I had a love/hate relationship with New York.

You can tell someone's not from New York by the way they view it - chances are, if they're enamored  by the so called 'concrete jungle', then they're not from here.

Here's the thing, New York isn't all that fucking great. Besides Manhattan, it's a shit show. Staten Island is only good for it's tanning salons and graffiti, Brooklyn houses hipsters, Queens is forgotten about unless the subject of 50 Cent is brought up, and the Bronx is only good for its zoo.

People like to believe New York is more than it really is. People want to fall in love with something, and New York is the place they pick.

Everyone's like that - needing something to love. It doesn't make you weak, it just makes you fucking normal.

Normal. What even was that?

I'll admit, I was in love with New York in October. Park Slope had just enough trees to make the sidewalks littered with red and orange leaves. It reminded me of my suburban neighborhood in Jersey, it reminded me of when Luca -

"You act like you've never seen leaves before," he wore a grin, straight white teeth showing behind plump lips. He was wearing my favorite outfit - his Adidas joggers that hung on his hips, his denim-and-cotton jacket that had sleeves stopping to the crook of his arm, his intricate tattoos showing  just right.

"You know as well as I do these will be gone by tomorrow." I picked up the brightest leaf I could find - a bright orange color, fading more into brown by its edges.

He laughed, short and husky. "You amaze me everyday, Cai."

I blinked a few times, getting out of my trance and wiped my hands down my knit sweater dress to straighten it. I just needed to get to the bank, get a money order, then get home to watch Stranger Things. Fuck these leaves. Leaves fucking suck.

With Luca gone, I was left to find another roommate. Since the area wasn't terrible and the location was good, it didn't take long. A male that had nothing on Luca, he had a genuine smile and a love for all things nerd. He could tell you everything wrong with the Avengers movies and how they didnt match with the comic books, all while cooking the best meal you could ever eat.

No, Giuseppe Schuch was no Luca Blackburn. I didn't share stolen moments under the hallway with him, but I did steal laughs in the kitchen with him - that would have to be suffice.

The walk to my bank was never long - it was right off of 5th Ave by the botanic garden. Maybe one day I'd actually go and see it.

I was greeted with cool air when I walked in, something that, apparently, all banks do - blast the AC even in the dead of winter. I was grateful, however; this sweater was making me sweat in places I didn't want to think about.

I made my way to the marble counter top, smiling at the attendant as I began to take my cash out of the pink satchel purse that was attached to my shoulder. 800 dollars gone - that could've been 800 towards a vacation, 800 towards -

I heard it the same time everyone did, the loud bang of lead leaving it's steel holder; a bullet leaving its home. I turned around just in time to see it fly straight into the ceiling, pieces of plaster falling into the ground and getting dust on the bank's patrons.

There was 4 of them - tall, muscular, and dressed head to toe in black. Their face masks looked to be made of the same material my dress was.

"Listen up!" One shouted, moving towards the center of the building. "No one will be hurt as long as all of the money behind the counter that's UNTRACKED is put into these bags within the next sixty-seven seconds. Let's go!"

It happened quickly, and I was unable to move. I stood in the same spot - hand halfway out of my purse, gripping my rent money tightly. I couldn't afford to lose my rent, I wouldn't be able to make 800 dollars before the 1st.

The men were moving quickly, moving from attendant to attendant before they finally were at my spot.

I moved backwards, my eyes wide before I realized I bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry, please, I didn't mean -"

"Wixtrom?" I didn't recognize the voice, and that along with the fact that they knew me only frightened me more.

Relax, Chaya - you've been through worse, they said they won't hurt you.

The mugger in front of me now got close, practically filling the empty space between me and him. "The  Wixtrom?"

Honesty would be the best way out of this. I didn't owe anyone money, I was generally well liked at NYU.... "Chaya Wixtrom." I was happy at the confidence in my voice, even if it was all a farce.

"The Wixtrom." The guy behind me agreed.

And that was all I heard before I was being dragged somewhere with hands covering my eyes.