Chapter 22: Burner I stared out the window. Duke cage. I traded one cage for another. A cage of expectations, a cage of pressure, a cage of my own making. I turned away from the window, the loneliness pressing down on me like a physical weight. Then I started pacing around again, the apartment felt like a prison cell. My reflection stared back at me from the dusty TV screen. I looked like shit. Hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, the usual arrogance replaced by a hollowed-out look. I needed a shower, a shave, something to scrape away the grime of the last 24 hours. I went into the cramped bathroom. The mirror was cracked, the sink stained, but the water ran hot, and that was enough. The hot water beat down on me, momentarily washing away the tension in my shoulders. I scrubbed my face, trying to erase the image of Valeria and Miguel from my mind. It didn't work. Their faces were burned into my retinas, a constant reminder of my humiliation. I finished showering and grabbed one of the towels. It was scratchy and thin, definitely not the kind of luxury I was used to. I dried off quickly and went back into the bedroom. The only clothes available were an old grey sweatsuit. It was clean, but shapeless and unflattering. I put it on anyway, not like I had any choice. I looked like a bum, a far cry from the image I usually tried to project. I went back to the living room and plopped down on the worn-out couch. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off things. The dusty TV was my only option. I picked up the remote and turned it on. The screen flickered to life, displaying a fuzzy image of a daytime talk show. I flipped through the channels, but it was all garbage – reality TV, infomercials, reruns of ancient sitcoms. I turned off the TV in disgust. This place was a dead zone, a sensory deprivation chamber. No phone, no internet, no decent TV. Just four walls and my own thoughts. I started searching the apartment. There had to be something, anything, to break the monotony. I rummaged through the drawers in the living room, finding nothing but old magazines and takeout menus. I checked the kitchen cabinets, finding only a few mismatched plates and cups. Then, I opened the drawer in the bedroom's nightstand and found it. A burner phone. Small, cheap, and anonymous. Wrapped in plastic, like it was waiting for this exact moment. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me. Relief, excitement, guilt. Rich had explicitly told me to stay put and not contact anyone. This phone was a direct violation of his orders. But the need to connect, to reach out, was too strong to resist. I unwrapped the phone and turned it on. It sprang to life, displaying a generic wallpaper and a handful of basic apps. No contacts, no messages, no trace of its previous use. Who to call? My parents were out. Greg would just lecture me. Kenny and Zion would be supportive, but they wouldn't understand. Valeria was out of the question. My fingers hovered over the keypad. There was only one name that came to mind. One person who had been consistently supportive, understanding, and non-judgmental. Demitra. But calling Demitra felt… complicated. It felt like I was crossing a line. Like I was admitting that I needed her, that I couldn't handle things on my own. And wasn't she probably still pissed that I had ignored her calls and texts? Still, it was either her or I'd go crazy here. I punched in her number, my heart pounding in my chest. Each ring felt like an eternity. Finally, she answered. "Hello?" Her voice was cautious, hesitant. "Demitra? It's Jim." There was a pause, a beat of silence. "Jim? What's going on? Are you okay?" "I'm… I'm fine. Sort of. Listen, I know I haven't been the best lately, and I ignored your calls, and I'm sorry. I just… I needed to talk to someone." "Where are you, Jim?" Her voice was softening, concern replacing the initial hesitation. "I can't say. I'm… laying low for a while." "Laying low? What happened?" I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "It's a long story. Basically, I kind of… lost it. At the café. And now I'm hiding out." "You lost it? What does that mean?" I took a deep breath. "I saw Valeria and Miguel. I lost my cool. I might have smashed my phone and flipped a table." I paused. "Okay, I definitely smashed my phone and flipped a table." There was another silence. "You flipped a table?" Her tone was incredulous. "Jim, you know that wasn't the right thing to do." "I know, I know. But I was angry, Demitra. I was seeing red. I just wanted them to feel some of the pain I'm feeling." "And did they?" "I don't know. I didn't stick around to find out." I laughed humorlessly. "Now I'm stuck in a safe house in the Bronx, with nothing to do but stew in my own anger." "A safe house? Jim, you're spiraling. Have you talked to Dr. Klein?" "No. I haven't talked to anyone, except you. And that's probably a mistake." I was thinking out loud. "Why do you say that?" "Because I always mess things up and hurt people. With you, with Valeria, with everyone. It's what I do." "That's not true, Jim. You're not a bad person. You're just… going through a hard time." "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just a ticking time bomb. One wrong word, one wrong look, and I explode." "You're not going to explode, Jim. You're going to take a deep breath, and you're going to calm down. And you're going to figure this out." "Easy for you to say. You're not the one hiding out in the Bronx, wanted for vandalism." "It's not a good look, but I am here for you. I care about you, Jim. You're one of my best friends." I didn't say anything. I didn't deserve her friendship. "Jim?" "Yeah?" "Are you really okay?" "No. I'm not okay. I'm angry, I'm frustrated, I'm lonely. And I'm scared. I'm scared of what I'm capable of. I am scared that I am a bad person." There was a long silence. I could almost feel her weighing her words, trying to find the right thing to say. "I think you should talk to Dr. Klein as soon as you can." She eventually said. "I know," I muttered. "I will." "You promise?" "Yeah, I promise." Another silence stretched between us. I could hear the faint sounds of music in the background, the muffled voices of people talking. Demitra's life was going on without me. "Listen, Jim," she said finally, "I should probably go. I have… a lot of things to do." Her tone was distant, detached. Like she was already mentally checking out of the conversation. "Yeah, sure. I get it." I knew she was pulling away. "Just… be careful, okay? And call Dr. Klein." "I will. Thanks, Demitra. For everything." "Anytime, Jim." She hung up. The line went dead, leaving me alone in the silence once again. The connection had been brief, fleeting, and ultimately unsatisfying. Instead of feeling better, I felt worse. More isolated, more alone. I stared at the burner phone in my hand. It was a useless piece of plastic, a temporary fix that had only amplified my loneliness. I lifted my arm and threw it against the wall. The phone shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor. I watched the fragments of plastic and metal, a physical manifestation of my shattered emotions. I was done hiding. I was done waiting for Rich to fix things. I was done feeling sorry for myself. It was time to take control of the situation. I stood up, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew what I had to do. I walked to the door, grabbed the key Rich had given me, and slipped out of the safe house. The grimy hallway was empty, silent. I took a deep breath and started walking towards the stairs, each step filled with purpose and determination. I was going to find Valeria and Miguel. And this time, I wasn't going to hold back. I would confront them, I would say what I needed to say, and I would finally get some closure. Consequences be damned. I reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out onto the street. The South Bronx was alive with activity, people bustling about their daily lives. I blended into the crowd, a ghost in the city, invisible and unknown. I started walking south, towards the heart of Manhattan. Towards Times Square. Towards Valeria and Miguel. Towards whatever waited for me there. I just hoped I wasn't walking towards something I'd regret. I kept walking. I didn't know where to go, so I just walked. South. It took me about an hour to get to the subway. The Bronx was far away from where all the action was. I swiped my metrocard and went through the gates. The smell of the subway was horrible, but I was too focused to care. I got on the 4 train heading to Manhattan. It was crowded and I was smashed in the middle of a bunch of people all going somewhere. I got off at 42nd street. Times Square. I walked up the stairs and into the bright lights. The energy of the city hit me like a wall. People everywhere, billboards flashing, music blasting. It was sensory overload. I pulled my hat down low and started scanning the crowds. I didn't know where to start, but I knew I'd find them. They were always together, Valeria and Miguel. It was disgusting. I walked around for about an hour. Nothing. I was starting to get discouraged. Maybe they weren't here. Maybe they had left the city. Maybe... Then I saw them. Across the street, standing in front of a souvenir shop. Valeria and Miguel. They were holding hands, laughing. I wanted to kill them. I started walking towards them, my heart pounding in my chest. I was so angry I could barely see straight. I crossed the street, dodging cars and people. I was getting closer. Closer. I was just a few feet away when I stopped. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I was angry. I took a deep breath and walked right up to them. Valeria saw me first. Her eyes widened in shock. "Jim?" she said. Miguel turned around, a look of confusion on his face. I stared at them, my fists clenched. I wanted to scream, to yell, to hit them. But I didn't. I just stood there, staring. "What do you want, Jim?" Valeria asked, her voice trembling. I didn't answer. I just kept staring. "Jim, please leave us alone," she said. "We don't want any trouble." Still, I kept looking at them. "Jim, go away!" Miguel said, stepping in front of Valeria. "Leave us alone!" I didn't move. I just kept staring. I didn't know what to say. That's when I noticed. Valeria was pregnant.