A Gray Life: a novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

sick remembering she would never see her father again, and her hand hovered over her pocket, ready to exact justice. She decided against justice, and moved on.
    Out on the street, it was dark and quiet. A few people sat slumped on sidewalks and against buildings, but she couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive. She walked down the sidewalk, hoping the people she passed didn’t wake up.
    Ashley checked her cell phone. Not quite midnight, but almost. Good thing she rebooked the next available flight to Bath before she left the apartment. The plane would leave at eight o’clock the next night. She had a lot of time to fill.
    She needed to get inside . Going to a friend’s house was safe. But, then the authorities would know the men hadn’t abducted her, and Ashley’s entire plan would go kapoot. No. She wanted to call Claire or Heather, but she couldn’t. For the duration of her stay in the city, Ashley would be on her own.
    Though, she had to go somewhere. A hotel could be the solution to her problems. The Four Seasons was two blocks away. The concierge might question why a twelve-year-old needed a room for herself on a school night. They might not even let her get a room. Ashley knew a motel like Coach Inn might not care about her age, only about her money.
    Coach Inn was a motel outside of the city.  For that reason and others, it held a questionable reputation. It was also the butt of many a school yard jibe. For instance,
    “Saw you and Sabrina holdin’ hands. You two goin’ to the Coach Inn later?”
    Or
    “Hey Alejandro, I saw your mom at the Coach Inn last night!”
    Place like that? Take her in with no problem.
    Ashley looked up the number of a cab company on her phone. She told the dispatcher where she would be waiting. She also told them to hurry.
    “A little please and thank you wouldn’t kill ya.” The dispatcher said.
    “Please hurry the hell up, thank you.”
    She hung up.
    It was rare for Ashley to use please and thank you in mundane situations; she certainly didn’t care to use them in life or death situations.
    A bench some twenty feet away called to her, and when she slumped down onto it, it amazed her how drained she was. She had only been awake for a few hours, but the night’s events had stolen her energy. Ashley felt ready for more sleep, and was halfway to dreamscape when the first raindrop hit her head.
    ****

4

    July 18th
    One of the Wasters died right in front of me today. I should be used to seeing people die, but I’m not.
    I woke up from a lazy afternoon nap to see a Waster on his hands and knees, throwing up blood. It went on for a few awful moments before he dropped face down on the floor. Months before, the Waster in question had been a healthy man. 
    He was one of the only male Wasters. I think he was gay, and I know this because The Man would fling names at him, names I’m sure you can imagine. Still, He didn’t kill him, and the cycle of torture and humiliation wouldn't stop. He must’ve thought of a way out, and his way out was to become a Waster. Time went by, and he showed up to the trough every few days instead of every day. Eventually, he stopped wearing his clothes and started sleeping near the Wasters in their own little corner of hell.
    When Erin saw what happened with (darn it, I don’t  even know his real name. All’s I can think of to call him is faggot , as it’s all I heard him called), she ran from the bathroom to see if I was hurt. I shrugged her off me and told her to check on the Waster. Was he dead? After feeling his leathery wrist, she nodded.
    I got a tarp from the other end of the basem ent and, with the help of Erin, rolled the body up into it. We dragged it to the bottom of the stairs. The Man would be sure to take it later.
    I thought that was the end of things, but Erin caught my arm, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes were big, full of tears. She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. She shook her head, tried again, but still didn’t say