Melancholy

“I said, I don’t care,” I snap.

“Santana.”

“Maddox.”

He makes a low hissing sound, and presses his forehead to mine. This has always been his way of showing me affection. It’s strange, but it’s his. He smells so good, and I want to wrap myself in him. The ache in my chest is getting bigger, and I feel so frightened.

“I’m sendin’ Mack in, and maybe Tyke.”

“Mack is back?” I whisper, pulling away.

Maddox grunts. “Yeah.”

I smile; I can’t help it. I adore Miakoda ‘Mack’ Williams. He’s Maddox’s adopted brother, and somewhat of a nomad. He travels around, joining in different chapters instead of sticking with one. He enjoys traveling, and being alone.

“Then yes, send him in.”

“You got a thing for my brother?”

I snort. “Would it matter if I did? You have a thing for my friends.”

“Santana,” he warns.

“Maddox.”

With a grunt, he stands. “I’m goin’ to get some things for you. I’ll send the guys in now.”

I nod.

He walks to the door.

When he gets there, he turns back to me. “Santana?”

I stare up at him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

CHAPTER TWO

2008 – Santana

I’m cold, so cold my entire body has stopped hurting, and now I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel my sister’s hand in mine, I can’t feel my toes or my legs, or even the hard concrete beneath us. I could die like this, and I know I wouldn’t feel it.

We’re going to die if we don’t get warm soon.

I sit up, crying out in pain as what feels like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into my skin radiates through my body. I need to find shelter, I need to find warmth, and I need to get us out of this weather. I rub my hands over the holes that have appeared in my old blue jeans.

I turn and stare down at Pippa who has grown frail and weak. Her eyes are sunken, her hair is dull, and her body is so tiny she’s got nothing to fall back on. This is all my fault, I took her onto the streets, thinking we had a chance at freedom. Instead, we found ourselves trapped once more, only this time it was from hunger, desperation, cold, and dangerous people.

“Come on, Pippi,” I whisper, reaching down to take her hands. “I’m going to find us somewhere warm.”

She stares up at me, her lips cracked and a dark shade of blue. She’s freezing. We need to get warm or she’ll die. Or worse, I’ll die, and she’ll be left with no one. I can’t allow that. I pull her up and she comes, slowly. Her knees wobble as she holds onto me. I wrap an arm around her, trying not to become fearful at how cold her skin is.

“We’re going to get some help, you hear me?”

We’ve been out here for around six months now, and more often than not we’ve been able to get through. It’s only been in the last month that we’ve started to struggle. People are heartless when it comes to the homeless. They don’t want to help; they just want to keep walking and pretend they never met our desperate eyes.

After all, the people with homes have a warm bed to sleep in each night. What do they need to worry about, aside from what to eat for breakfast?

Breakfast.

My stomach rumbles as I pull Pippa down the pathway. My parents raised me never to trust strangers, but now I’m going to do the only thing I can think of. I’m going to beg. I’m going to knock on as many doors as I have to, and beg until someone gives in. Until someone gives us something warm, or some food.

I lead Pippa into the housing area closest to where we were sleeping. She’s slowing, her body struggling to even take a step. I pull her up the first driveway, and lean her against a pole while I knock. An elderly man answers, his eyes narrowing in disgust as he takes us in.

“Not interested,” he barks, slamming the door.

That’s it?

I knock again, but he doesn’t answer.

“It’s okay.” I smile weakly to Pippa. “There are so many more houses.”

I lead her through a solid fifty houses before we reach one that gives us a chance. The man in this house is younger, only about thirty-five or so. He’s got a light scattering of grey in his dark hair and eyes the color of champagne. He’s quite attractive, and seems friendly enough as he looks us over.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“My sister and I . . . we’re homeless. We have nowhere to go, and she’s freezing. Please, sir, if you could spare a blanket or some food, I would be forever grateful,” I whisper.

He stares at us, his eyes scanning over me and then Pippa. A smile appears on his face as he shoves the door open. “Come in, let’s get you warmed up.”

My eyes widen. All I can think of is the old saying that states if it’s too good to be true, it probably is. What if this man is going to murder us? Or rape us? It’s clear he can see my hesitation, because he gives me a warm smile and steps forward. “I’ve lived a hard life before—I understand. I’m not going to hurt you. Come in, please.”

I turn to Pippa, and one look at her frail body has me reaching for her.

“What’s your names?” he asks as we step inside his warm house.

“I’m Santana,” I whisper. “And this is Pippa.”

“Welcome girls. I’m Kennedy.”