Genes are not the central driving force of human nature. There is a different legacy that is passed down to each successive generation. It echoes through the ages. The grandparents and great-grandparents of many generations long forgotten still have a tangible influence on their descendants today. It is the sad reality that the progenitors never know the fate of their offspring. They go to their graves with hope that their children thrive and live well. So, the legacy is not a genetic one. The true legacy is a legacy of love, a legacy of the spirit. It is a chain of compassion, which if broken has dire consequences....

I woke up in a clammy sweat on the morning after our little cafeteria adventure. All the other beds were empty. It was after eight in the morning and I was late for breakfast. I moved as fast as I could, but I felt like my ankles were dragging a ball-and-chain behind them. My eyelids were heavy and I was looking out at the world through half-opened eyes. I went in to the bathroom and threw some cold water on my face. The shock revived me somewhat, but I still felt lead-footed.

By the time I got to the cafeteria everyone was halfway through their breakfast. I quietly got a bowl and sat down at a table away from Janet and Bradley. There was a super-sized box of sweet crispy rice cereal on the table. I took some of that, added some milk, and snap-crackle-and-popped my way through a quick sugary breakfast. It sure hit the spot, and it got the lead out, I guess because of the sugar.

Pretty soon the nurses came into the cafeteria and gave everyone their morning cocktail. I took mine with happy enthusiasm, hoping that the words of Doctor Cleaver would come true and that I would become a more relaxed, easier going me. It went down easily. Having done my part, I was free to have an hour or two to do what I wanted to do.

I went to the Quiet Room to read. The blinds painted my skin in zebra-stripes of diffuse morning light. I began to drift. I began to think about all the things that I'd done in the last few weeks, which wasn't a lot really, but it was still a lot for me to process. It seemed surreal, as if it wasn't really me that got into that fight; as if it wasn't really me who got put in the hospital. I guess the medication was doing its job: it was helping to give me some detached perspective from myself.

I drifted further as I sat in the dusty twilight of the Quiet Room. With all the books lying around it seemed more like a library than a cubbyhole in a hospital. My thoughts became disjointed and separated, like a jigsaw puzzle coming apart piece by piece. I saw images from my thoughts floating out in front of me. They disassembled like building blocks getting knocked over by an upset two year old child.

Just as I thought my mind couldn't get more disjointed, I fell asleep entirely and ended up having a strange dream. I was standing in a parking lot in the middle of the night. I was wearing all black and I was waiting for my accomplice. She appeared out of the fog: Janet, a bubbly, overly vivacious woman. She was dressed in black, just like me. Then, in my dream, I began to panic. Wasn't Jen supposed to be meeting me here? I started blubbering and stuttering as Janet got closer. I turned to run. Of course in dreams you can never run when you really want to. So I ended up moving slowly, as if I was running through a swamp. I ran and I fell down, and I heard Janet's voice, her hideously excited voice, calling to me. I called out to Jen several times, hoping that she would come to my rescue and save me from my peril.

I was so terrified in my dream that I woke up, and there in front of my opened eyes was Janet. She was looking at me with concern and affection.

"Are you okay?" Janet asked. "You were shaking in your sleep."

"Oh," I said. I tried to hide the lingering feeling of fear. "I was having a dream."

"Oh, I dream! What was it about?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't remember. Nothing really."

"Oh.... Are you sure you can't remember?"

"I'm sure," I said.

"Fine. Well, I'm going to get a snack. Bye."

She swiftly evacuated the Quiet Room.

I felt a sense of acute relief to see her go. Alone once again with myself, I found that I was just as tired as I was before. But my heart was beating faster. I guess it was all the fear.

My stomach felt upset, so I went to the bathroom. Bradley was standing at the bathroom sink, counting the imperfections on his face.

"Have you ever noticed the rate of error in the human form?" he asked without looking at me.

"Yeah. Well no, not that way."

"What way?"

"You know, I think about how flawed we are as a whole. I don't think of all the little things."

Bradley smiled. "You think about the errors after they've all been added up."

"Yeah, I guess so. And sometimes I–"

Suddenly I felt a wave of nausea wash over me from head to toe. I ran to the toilet and retched repeatedly.

"You okay?" Bradley asked from behind me.

I responded by propelling sugary crispy rice cereal into the toilet.

"Oh boy. Looks like you're coming down with something."

I finished vomiting and stood up carefully.

"I'm not feeling too good Bradley."

"You don't look too good either. Here, here's a paper towel," Bradley said, handing me a towel to wipe my mouth with.

"Thanks," I said. I began to clean up when I felt the ground turn into mush beneath my feet.

"Whoa, what's happening," I said. I started to fall. I felt big strong arms reach out to break my fall, and then I fell asleep.

I awoke late in the evening, or early in the morning. I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was dark. The lights were off everywhere and everyone was in bed. Suddenly I felt like the walls were getting closer together. I began sweating profusely. My vision was entirely distorted. I felt panicked. I did the only thing that you can do when you don't know what to do: I ran, but not before grabbing my keys.

I ran out of my room, down the darkened hall, past the nurse's station where there was surprisingly no nurse present, and out into the stair well. Stumbling over my own feet, I ran down the stairs faster than I could manage. I ran so fast that I passed by the first floor. I ended up in the basement, in a maze of pipes and doors. I turned back around and ran back up the stairs, and out the first floor emergency exit.

Freedom! The vast starry sky welcomed me warmly and I suddenly felt comfort under its gaze. So I ran onward without stopping, until I couldn't run any more. Somewhere in downtown Toronto I found a small park with some inviting benches. I laid there for a few minutes, staring up at the sky, which itself was staring back down at me with a smirk spread across its constellations.

I felt calm after looking up at the stars for an hour or more. I had enough sense about me to figure out where I was, and to realize that I was wearing my pajamas, and that I was freezing cold. I snuck my way home, sticking to the shadows the entire time due to my self-conscious lack of appropriate clothing.

After I got inside my apartment – having unlocked the door as quietly as possible – I stealthily got into my room, changed into more appropriate attire, and inexplicably ran out of my own home. I wandered the streets for the rest of the night, and despite the cold I went to sleep on a warm air vent in an alley.

I awoke to the sound of trash cans rattling. I lifted my head to see a raccoon climb out of an aluminum bin. I pulled myself slowly off the air vent. The side of me that was on the vent was warm, and the other side was cold. My nose was running and I felt miserable.

I stumbled warily out of the alley and found myself on Yonge Street. I stood at the edge of the alley. I looked around and tried to think of what to do. My mind was clouded. I felt like there was cotton between my ears.

"Dude. You look rough."

I turned around and saw three skinny teenage boys. They were maybe sixteen or seventeen years old.

"Huh?" I asked.

"I haven't seen you around before," the one standing closest to me said. He was wearing a tilted brown beret. "You new?"

"Uh, I guess," I said. My teeth felt like they were covered in cotton.

"Hey, why don't you come with us for breakfast," the beret wearing kid said.

"Uh, sure."

The four of us walked up Yonge Street to a centre for homeless teens. The place was shabby on the outside and shabby on the inside. A youth worker sat at a desk near the entrance. He didn't even notice me come in. Weren't they supposed to process the new arrivals? We shuffled coolly past clumps of teens standing around in little cliques. Some were oblivious. Others gave us suspicious stares.

We went to the cafeteria in the back and we sat down for breakfast. The room had a few small windows that were covered with so much dirt that they seemed frosted. Cheerios was on the menu and so was bread with peanut butter. I was very hungry, so I ate a lot despite my cotton-headed feeling.

My three companions were more weathered looking than I was. In fact, most of the people there were. I must have looked like a shiny new baby in their eyes.

"So how long have you been on the street?" the shortest and stubbiest of the three asked.

"Since yesterday," I said between chews.

"Wow," he said. "Fresh." The others chuckled.

"Listen," the beret wearing boy said, "you can hang with us if you want. We have a place on Liberty Street."

"Liberty Street? Like the television show?"

"Yeah, but this is the real one."

"Okay. That sounds like fun."

I felt my vision blur for a second, but I was able to refocus on my cereal. I suddenly saw an image of all the chewed up cereal that I'd eaten. I could see it floating on milk in my stomach and slowly curdling and rotting away. I felt slightly queasy.

After breakfast my new friends took me down to the Lakeshore. The one with the beret, who told me his name was Skinny, handed me a squeegee.

"Ready to make some money?" he asked.

I took the squeegee and Skinny said, "follow me."

He went out into the intersection when the light turned red. He went from car to car, holding up his squeegee. Most people ignored him or waved him away. A few nodded their assent, so he ran his dirty squeegee down their windshields – a service for which he earned one or two dollars. Then he ran back to the curb as the light was about to change.

"How come you didn't follow me?" he asked. I had just stood on the curb, watching him.

"I just wanted to watch," I said. I felt lightheaded, so I sat down on the sidewalk. "How much do you make?"

"Fifty to a hundred a day," Skinny said, smiling.

"Wow." I rested my head on my hands.

"Hey, are you okay?" Skinny asked. He leaned over and poked at my shoulder.

"Yeah.... I'm just feeling a little worn out."

"Wow, already?" Skinny sat down beside me. "Pace yourself. It's only your first day on the street."

"Okay."

I fell into some sort of stupor. I began to ply my customers like an automaton. I squeegeed all day long, and the whole time I felt like I was dreaming. I felt like I was cleaning the same windshield on the same car over and over again.

I woke up from this dream as night was falling. I found myself following Skinny up a fire escape that was attached to the back of an old building with lots of broken windows.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"What, haven't you been paying attention?"

"What?"

Skinny chuckled. "We're home."

"This is Liberty street?" I asked.

"No, this is an alley." He pointed off to the right, and said, "Liberty Street is back there."

"Oh." I followed him into his home. The space inside was enormous. It was one big cavernous space, like a cathedral.

"Wow," I said, looking around.

"Neat, eh?" Skinny asked, smiling. He walked off to one corner of the huge space.

"We live in there," he said, pointing to a door on the far side of the room.

"Come in." He opened the door and we went in. I was amazed. Inside this gigantic building there was a smaller room that was itself the size of an entire apartment. There was a ratty old sofa against one wall and a dirt-stained old carpet on the floor. A cheap torch lamp lit up the room and provided a little warmth. It was cool inside the room, but not as cold as the rest of the building.

"Welcome home. That's Jessica," Skinny said, pointing at an incredibly thin teenage girl sitting on the sofa.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I replied. She had rather oily looking dark hair. There was a piercing on her tongue that she kept poking out between her lips.

Skinny patted me on the shoulder. "There's some food in the cupboard, if you want some. I'm going to sleep."

"Uh, okay," I said. I watched him go off down a short hall into what must have been a bedroom.

"So, how did you meet Skinny?" Jessica asked. She was smiling and twirling a finger through her hair. She crossed her legs and she dangled her ankle rhythmically. "Hey, come sit here."

I went and sat down beside her on the sofa.

"I met him on Yonge Street."

"Cool," she said. "Want some hash?"

"I guess so," I said. Jessica picked up a pipe that was sitting on a small table. She put a bit of hash in it. She lit the pipe and sucked on it. She smiled.

"Here," Jessica said, passing the pipe to me. I filled my lungs with the burning smoke. After only a minute I felt like I was floating.

"Boy am I horny," Jessica said. She moved in closer to me and took my hand and put it between her legs.

"Feel my pussy," she said. I moved my hand around a little, but I was only half aware of what was going on. But I know that it felt warm. She was moaning softly.

I mostly just laid there; mostly unaware of what was happening. I could feel Jessica get on top of me. I could feel her unwashed body pressing against mine. I could smell her. She used me as her own personal toy.

I woke up early the next morning. Jessica had her legs wrapped around me and I felt very uncomfortable. My head felt a little clearer and I didn't like the idea of staying in an old warehouse and washing cars for money and getting used for sex by dirty teenage girls. I remembered that I had a home and that I should go there.

"Fuck this," I said to myself. "Fuck this shit." I pulled Jessica off of me. She was either passed out or in a deep sleep. I put on my clothes and checked my wallet. Then I dug into Jessica's pants and pulled out some money from her wallet. She had almost two hundred dollars.

"Fuck, how'd she get so much money?" I said quietly.

"Fuck, I have to get out of here," I said.

I stuffed the cash into my pocket.

I walked quietly out of the apartment, through the cavernous warehouse space and down the fire escape. My gait was a little unsteady, but my feet didn't feel heavy. I wandered through the alleys until I found Liberty Street. I kept walking until I eventually reached Queen Street. I waited for the streetcar. There was a light snow flurry, but the temperature was above freezing.

I sat at the back of the streetcar, talking to myself quietly.

"Fuck," I said. "What the fuck am I doing?" I looked out the window as I passed through one of the poorest neighborhoods in Toronto. "What the fuck am I doing?"

I got off the streetcar and walked north, back to my home, my real home. Mom was at work and I was alone. I felt so good to be home. I started to get a splitting headache, so I went to the medicine cabinet and took a few aspirins. I went into my bedroom and as soon as I got to my bed I felt the room spinning. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I hadn't even thought that the hospital would have told my mom that I had gone missing. I hadn't even thought that she might have been out looking for me. Needless to say, I was surprised when I woke up to the feeling of mom kissing me all over my hands and face.

"Oh! My boy! My little boy!"

"What?" I asked, all groggy.

"Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!"

I looked at her and I saw that her face was streaked.

"I don't know," I said weakly.

"Oh, God. You're going to be okay," Mom said. She hugged me.

Later, I heard mom talking on the phone. It sounded like she was talking to the doctors: He's not going anywhere, you hear me? Silence. That's right he's my son! Silence. From now on I'm taking care of him! I heard the handset crash down onto the receiver as she hung up the phone.

"How did this ever get so bad," she said when she returned.

"I should have paid more attention. I'm going to take care of you," Mom said.

I went back to sleep.

Next chapter will be published 12/6/2015.