The dumpsters rot along the streets, harbingers of decay, presenting themselves in a fashion to the onlookers from their windows. They were there for the trash, a receptacle for everything that could be thrown away. What it was didn t matter, whether it was waste, broken dreams or the remains of a person long lost to the nature of society. Some fall under the churning beast, grating them into the ground, and so was the truth about Gabrielle. She couldn t pay for her pleasure and suffered the pain of it. Like all of them, she was a destitute wanderer that allowed only the sky to be her overhead shelter. But she thought better of herself, not offering what little she could provide to substitute money. And it was this train of thought that brought her down, this one simple, humane belief. Andrew found her, tattered and torn asunder, lying in the only bed she had ever known well enough to call home: the dumpster behind Rocco s. Of course you re here at Rocco s Probably asleep Did he come to collect? Did you see him yet? I saw him and ran He chased me, of course But I drove my legs With death as the source Gabrielle, Can you wake up please? I feel like I m talking to a dead person.
2 And there she lay, forever in a gracious sleep, never to be disturbed like a damsel in so many fairy tales. He gathered her, Andrew did, and searched for help. But no one would help, he was just a forgotten memory clad in rags that a bartender wouldn t even use to wipe out a toilet at the end of the night. He was the unwanted, the worst of the worst. A homeless drug addict with a future that meant nothing and a past that meant even less. And he crawled through the streets, grabbing on the arms of others that knew nothing of his kind of life, of people that only gave him sideways glance from their windows during diner time as he dug through the garbage in search of food. He found one person, though, a born-again christian. God, help her Please You, you could help her She s been hurt And I don t know what to do No, I won t let go of your shirt I m only asking you. Gabrielle, I m taking you to the hospital. And he ran, Andrew did, the four blocks to the hospital, kicking up broken glass and cigarette butts on his way. People moved out of his way and watched the blood trail that
3 carried behind him and added to the filth of the city, a small red line of guilt. They were guilty of giving into their vices. Of giving into the very things they knew would ruin them forever in everyone else s eyes and their own when they looked into a mirror while shooting up. Andrew gave into one more vice that everyone was born with: his freedom. And with the thought of that one simple, humane belief being stripped from him, he made a decision. He had to ditch Gabrielle s body at the emergency room doors and run. This is my last goodbye to you Gabrielle You didn t deserve this It s my fault I should have provided the service You shouldn t have had to of crawled To your bed Behind Rocco s Now lay down your head I ve lost you. And the trail of blood ended with her body. The nurses and doctors and police rushed outside and shouted and some even chased Andrew. He was more than a vagrant now, but no good would come of it for him. So he ran and pumped his legs until nothing was left in them before collapsing in an alleyway. But it wasn t just any alleyway; it was the one behind Rocco s, where Gabrielle had made her bed. The outline of her body
4 remained intact like a snow angel in the winter. And then the sirens sounded and the foot falls of men intent on holding Andrew accountable for the death of Gabrielle rushed the alley. They arrested him after a small scuffle and shoved him into the back of their car. He was taken to the station, where he awaited the beating he knew would happen in the interrogation room. It was, after all, his umpteenth time visiting there and the routine had become predictable. He knew how they would hit him, how many times it would happen and even knew what level of pain he could expect from afterwards. And afterwards was always the worst. Afterwards he would be released into the custody of his father. And his father would belittle him and his life and tell him what a waste he was. His father was a war veteran, a hard man with an even harder face. Andrew had always perceived him as cold and calculating, never giving way to emotions. Not even after his wife, Andrew s mother, had died of cancer. Not even when he had needed his father to be the one thing he had never been his entire life; a loving person. And his father came and picked him up, giving him the same scowl he had always given him. Andrew followed his father out to the car, looking at his feet the whole time. Shame was a prevalent feeling everyday for him. He was ashamed of his lifestyle, of the things he had done to get his fix, of the people that he associated with on a regular basis and, most importantly, of how he let is father down. Dad, I understand that your upset I just need to explain I don t know what happened I found her and she was just in so much pain
5 Gabrielle Her name was Gabrielle She was my friend She was the only person I could tell About my troubles No, she wasn t a whore She had problems just like me We both chose to be poor And now she s dead and I have nothing Nothings left Not a thing And I don t know what to do I m sorry, I can t talk to you About this, all you do is get mad I know you tell me the truth But all that does is make me sad I can t handle this And I can t come back home I m sorry Dad I need to be alone. And he opened the door and threw himself from the car on the open highway.