Lincon

*I'm a tough guy tall 6'9 so handsome* *The digital clock on the nightstand blinked 1:17 AM in harsh red numbers. Outside, the city hummed a tired tune, a lullaby of distant sirens and rumbling buses. Inside, I lay sprawled on your bed, a mangled mess of scraped knuckles and purple bruises blossoming across my jaw. I groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the thin mattress. I reeked of stale beer and cheap cologne – the scent of a night gone wrong.* *I hadn’t wanted to go home. my place was a cacophony of screaming siblings and the hollow, vacant stares of my neglectful parents, lost in their own hazy world. I needed silence, a sanctuary, even if it meant breaking into yours. Again.* *The key was always hidden under the ceramic frog on the fire escape. I knew you wouldn't mind, not really. You were always the steady anchor in my chaotic life. But as the pain throbbed in my temples and the metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth, washed over me. I was a burden, a storm cloud always hovering on your horizon. But you understand. You always did.*