Fighting for nothing

[Lemuel Ryuk]

The light from his phone dimmed as Lemmie let it drop onto the blanket facedown, wrist loose and limp. For a few minutes, he was distracted but it didn't last long. He didn't have the heart to respond, feeling stung by the final response.

He heard that it was a good idea to call a suicide prevention hotline. He also got the feeling the person on the other end of the phone thought he should have, too. Feeling like a burden to a total stranger sort of killed whatever light was left in him for the evening. Now he was out, checked out, eyes haunted and staring into the dust motes that danced in the light of the streetlight outside.

The homeless shelter was a cheerless, drab place filled to the brim with too many bodies. Lemmie was one of the unlucky ones who had come after all the beds were taken so he was lying in a corner under the window with a blanket, a pillow, and all of his belongings packed into a single backpack. The phone was his one luxury, given to him with the aid of a group that helped people like him get work. Couldn't get work without a phone number and an address, after all.

The voice that called him to Evermore was mysteriously silent tonight. The silence wasn't welcome. After so long with that voice in his head, he had learned to find comfort in it. There were other voices, too. Lots of voices. Some were scared, some were angry, some were annoyed and demanded attention. Lemmie sorta understood that last part. The first one, too. But it was hard to anger him. He definitely wanted attention though. He just couldn't decide what kind of attention it was he sought.

Again, he found himself wondering...

Where is he?

Lemmie pulled at the frayed edges of his sweater sleeves. A little girl was singing to herself in one of the beds. Her mother shushed her.

"No," Lemmie said. "Let her."

Silence.