Spryta was the first to awaken from her abrupt boob-knockout…

She was now sober but still didn’t remember much of what happened after Tyrone disappeared under the water.

Honestly, she thought he had kicked the bucket a bit early.

The last thing Spryta could recall was the boob attack of a strange blue woman.

‘Obviously, a hallucination...’

Spryta reasoned, As Tyrone’s defacto girlfriend, it was her responsibility to kill him for cheating with a sea creature.

Spryta hopped to her feet, correcting her balance a bit since the ACID in her system had not totally disappeared.

She stood in the same place for about ten minutes, just staring at the lake’s water as silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Honestly, when she thought Tyrone had drowned in the river, she took enough ACID to OD an elephant, but in the end, she was still here and it didn’t look anything like the underworld.

She was never planning to live so she was not equipped to deal with the aftershock of a suicide attempt, especially after realizing that Tyrone was somehow alive.

That made her feel even guiltier because, though they didn’t admit it, both she and Tyrone were feeling pretty hopeless all the time.

Actually, she knew that Tyrone secretly hoped that she would wake up sometimes in the night, find a gun and blow his brains out…

She knew that he wanted that because she also wanted him to do the same…

It was a fucked up reason to enjoy each other’s company, but misery likes company.

Spryta wiped the tears from her cheeks, practiced smiling for a couple of seconds before returning to her cheerful, mischievous self.

“Tyrone says I can’t fool him, but he still hasn’t seen through this mask…” she whispered, swinging her leg back and forth as exercise.

Spryta suddenly spun around, sending her most powerful kick towards Tyrone’s stomach.

Fortunately, Tyrone’s body shifted a bit as his eyes opened groggily, causing Spryta to miss her kick and tumble onto the ground once more.

Due to the swing of her kick, Spryta was lucky enough to avoid the ground and instead landed on Tyrone’s lap.

Though the position was a bit compromising so Spryta instantly became embarrassed.

“What the fuck happened?” Tyrone groaned, glancing at Spryta’s red face in his lap.

Tyrone felt the need to joke about how Spryta was trying to give him a blowjob, but he was instantly distracted by Spryta’s change in appearance.

Previously, Spryta looked eighteen years old, a small type of eighteen-year-old, but an eighteen-year-old nonetheless.

However, she seemed to de-age a couple of years, and simultaneously lost a couple of inches in height.

“Is this an illusion?” Tyrone questioned, not remembering anything aside from waking up on the shore after rushing to save Spryta.

Could Spryta be messing with his head again?

“Did you shoot me up with something or were you always that young?” Tyrone questioned, feeling a bit scared as one word came to mind ‘child-molestation’.

He would have to find a way to ditch Spryta soon because walking around with kids at this age was a straight prison sentence, it also didn’t help that Spryta was white.

“What the heck are you talking about?” Spryta questioned aggressively, pointing in Tyrone’s face like she usually would, but this time she noticed her hands were smaller?

At first, she thought her hands looked smaller because Tyrone was just so tall but something didn’t add up.

Spryta spun around and darted to the lake, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the water…

Younger – like fourteen years old, more beautiful – no more scars or blemishes, and a unique golden radiance glowing from her skin…

The most shocking thing for Spryta was the fact that she found this beyond-beautiful version of herself completely normal – like this was who she always was…

Tyrone sighed “I know we don’t ask each other questions but what the heck is going on with you Spryta…”

“Maybe the lake water is the fountain of youth?” Spryta mumbled in a daze, choosing to ignore Tyrone’s serious mood as she added “I can’t buy drugs anymore with this face… it’s too fucking cute… everyone is gonna try and fuck me now…”

“Some men like jail…” Tyrone snorted.

“What era do you think it is?” Spryta mocked “I get raped in some back alley and nobody gonna give a fuck during war…”

“Whatever, just know I won’t buy drugs for you… you don’t need more of that poison in your veins…” Tyrone shot down the idea as soon as Spryta thought it up.

But Spryta needed her drugs and she knew that she needed it more than anything else…

The fact that Tyrone refused to get drugs for her was nothing short of betrayal in her eyes, and that caused her mood to swing a complete 180.

“Poison this… Poison that… is all your whore mom thought you to say ‘poison’ all the time?” Spryta lashed out angrily, barely managing to cover her mouth after realizing what she had said.

---PA/TA---

A loud slap rang out as Tyrone’s heavy hand turned Spryta’s head to the right…

A couple of seconds of peaceful silence passed until Spryta mechanically raised her gaze to meet Tyrone’s eyes.

A faint golden glow flickered in Spryta’s eyes…

“You ever touch me again…” she whispered, walking to Tyrone and placing her head on his chest to hide her terrifying expression “I will fucking kill you and everything you care about…”

Tyrone brushed his hands through Spryta’s hair emotionlessly “I already lost everything I care about…” he whispered, hoping Spryta would really do as she threatened.

“I know you think that you have lost everything but…” She paused, placing her palm on Tyrone’s chest, sinking her fingernails into his skin “… you can lose your heart more than once…”

Tyrone didn’t reply or respond to the pain, and Spryta didn’t continue the threats…

Actually, she was confused about why she threatened Tyrone in the first place – he was probably twice her size, and a casual slap could probably kill her.

A couple of minutes passed as Spryta’s tense body calmed down…

She calmed down enough to detect something moving inside Tyrone’s shirt…

At first, she thought he was having a natural reaction to her God-given beauty, but Tyrone seemed like a solid kind of guy, and this movement was too flexible.

Tyrone also felt it and was quick to remove a sizeable fish from his shirt.

“Cool…”

Sadly, before he could brag about his accomplishment, Spryta snatched the fish from his outstretched hands and tossed it back into the lake’s water.

“What the fuck Spryta?”

Spryta snorted in disdain “I wouldn’t eat stuff that was in your shirt…”

Tyrone would have continued to argue with the small girl had the bruise on her cheek not made him feel guilty enough about what happened earlier.

Maybe, he had slapped the common sense out of her head…

“You okay?” he whispered guiltily.

“It’s okay…” she murmured, a knowing smirk appearing on her face “I hear all black men like to beat their women…”

Tyrone frowned but didn’t take offense to the low-jab since he had earned it.

Seeing the discomfort on his face, Spryta decided to acquiesce a little as well.

“It’s okay… I deserved that…” Spryta replied, and quickly changed the conversation “Now it’s time to teach you some hustling… I eat every day by begging so I’m gonna teach you how to beg…”

“I look for-”

Mid-sentence, Tyrone lost strength in his knees and fell into Spryta’s embrace as his nose bled black-blood intensely…

“It’s quickening…” Spryta noted, already aware of Tyrone’s impending death date even if he avoided the topic like the plague.

---cough---

---cough----

Two mouthfuls of blood were coughed up by Tyrone, but something was different this time…

“It hurts…”

“What?” Spryta questioned.

“It didn’t hurt at first but now…” Tyrone paused, standing straight once more “it’s fucking burning inside me…”

“You sure it’s not the crabs?” Spryta joked “You have been wearing the same clothes for days now…”

Tyrone laughed and Spryta pulled him along so they could get fully dressed before departing.

------------------

About an hour later, Tyrone and Spryta were on the long journey back to the city…

“I feel unreal… like I’m being undone from the seams…”

Spryta shrugged “Join the club, I can’t even tell if my memories are real or fake half the time… sometimes I wake up screaming because my dreams become my memories and my dreams are terrifying…”

“Fewer drugs… less psychotic breakouts…” Tyrone suggested, “That seems to be the formula that works for everyone else…”

This was the third time today that Tyrone had said something offensive to her, and Spryta had the nagging feeling that he was trying to make a point.

Spryta frowned “Do you look down on me, Tyrone ‘From-The-Hood’ Johnson?”

Tyrone sighed “I try never to look down on another person…” he replied, and then took Spryta’s hands in his own “I just know that out of the two of us… only one of us has a chance of turning her life around…”

Spryta withdrew her hands from Tyrone’s grip and gestured to church some ways in front “We are here…”

“A church?” Tyrone questioned as Spryta pulled him around the side.

Spryta shrugged “Free clothing every day of the week… sometimes, if you are really lucky, the nuns would come out and do the Lord’s work…”

“The Lord’s work?” Tyrone repeated, finding the way Spryta worded the statement a bit ambiguous.

Spryta smiled mischievously “Yeah… they give holy blowjobs… want one? I bet you get holy HIV from it…”

Tyrone felt offended as a Christian and shot back “It’s still better than stealing…”

“Wear something nice…” Spryta recommended, ignoring Tyrone’s immature comments, and tossing different articles of clothing towards him without pause.

“Wear something that makes you look older…” Tyrone shot back, not wanting to be seen with the child-like Spryta.

Tyrone and Spryta rummaged through the clothing bins, searching for anything that could match their preferences.

By the time they were finished, Tyrone seemed even plainer than before – T-shirt faded jeans pants and brown sandals.

Spryta, on the other hand, seemed prepared for winter; she wore everything she could carry in layers around her body.

“Why?” Tyrone questioned, looking at the ball that was now Spryta.

Spryta snorted “You don’t know shit about being poor… you are only allowed as much clothing as you can carry, and we need clothes so I carry as much as I can…”

Tyrone felt a bit stupid since Spryta was clearly accustomed to the nuances of being poor in the 1940s…

“I just realized something…” Tyrone murmured, “I was really blessed compared to you…”

Spryta continued to stack more layers of clothing…

By this time, she had five scarfs around her neck and three coats wrapped around her body…

She glanced at Tyrone “Not all white kids got it good…” she snorted, finished wearing as much clothing as she could carry “The only difference between you and I is that you have it difficult by way of spite, while I have it difficult by way of fortune…”

“I couldn’t say it better myself…” Tyrone laughed, removing some layers of clothing from Spryta and wearing them himself “I think it’s time we share the burden…”

Tyrone walked off before he could get Spryta’s reply…

“You don’t have enough time left to share all my burdens…” Spryta whispered, following after Tyrone.

-----------------

About an hour later, Spryta was having fun showing Tyrone the ins and outs of the ‘hustle’…

She started by showing Tyrone the basics of trash surfing until a group of angry dogs chased them away from the ‘lucrative’ trash bins.

Then Spryta had Tyrone help her into high windows, stealing whatever was in hand’s reach: pencils, staples, flower vases, and sometimes coupons.

Tyrone thought that Spryta’s funny way of dressing was in preparation for winter, but now he realized that she had just enough pockets for all the stolen merchandise she had pocketed.

It took a couple of hours for Spryta to visit all her usual hustling locations, but with night quickly approaching, she decided one final hustle would end the day.

“Be the lookout…” Spryta instructed, darting to a corner to set up her ‘operation’.

Honestly, Tyrone suspected that Spryta hadn’t hustled a day in her life, all she did was take from those who hustled.

Tyrone canvas the area like Spryta told him…

By the time he was finished, Spryta had already laid several collection hats at conspicuous locations along the busy street.

People passed by the hats and dropped whatever they could afford inside.

Tyrone walked to the opposite side of the road, keeping an eye out for anything strange; though this was the 1940s and everything seemed strange in his eyes.

After a couple of minutes passed, he grew tired of playing the lookout “What exactly am I looking for?” he shouted, walking over to the carefully hidden Spryta.

“This is not how you do secret shit!” She replied, darting from her hideout to pocket all the spare change dropped in the hats.

“These are some sketchy plans…” Tyrone shot back.

“Listen, Tyrone…” Spryta wanted to explain, but her face changed the next moment “Fucking run!” she yelled and moved her small feet in a blur before anyone could catch a glimpse of her figure.

Tyrone was about to chase after Spryta, had a kid not dropped immediately in front of him…

“You okay, kid?” he asked, offering a hand to help the kid up.

The kid smirked as he took Tyrone’s hand “And you’re fucked!”

Before Tyrone could process what was happening next, he felt several hands on his shoulders, and then a feeling of weightlessness assaulted him as he was tossed into an alley.

He covered his head and loosened his body to prepare for the inevitable impact.

Tyrone first felt the wetness of mud, followed by the constant bombardment of kicks and punches.

He had no time to retaliate…

No time to think about what was happening…

No time to protect anything aside from his head…

Just punches and kicks, one after another like a never-ending nightmare assaulted him…

Tyrone was not unaccustomed to being ‘jumped’ but this time, he could tell he was attacked with the intention to kill…

“Raise the nigger up!” someone shouted, and Tyrone was pulled up by his arms.

---PA/TA---

---PA/TA---

---PA/TA---

Tyrone felt three slaps against his cheek, rousing his drowsy mind awake… and waking him up after beating him so severely was a mistake.

Using the leverage of whoever held him up, Tyrone raised both feet and kicked outwards wildly.

He could feel the kicks connect with human flesh, earning grunts of pain from his attackers.

The grip on his arms loosened, and Tyrone began throwing wild punches like a machine gun…

Still, for every punch he threw, at least three punches came in retaliation…

Sadly, the attackers forgot that an animal backed into a corner would lash out with everything it had.

---BANG---

---BANG---

---BANG---

Tyrone didn’t know how a piece of wood got in his hands, but he swung it with all his might…

Even when the attackers stopped fighting back, Tyrone didn’t relent… he could not relent because his eyes were swollen to the point that he couldn’t see…

Tyrone wasn’t sure how many swings he made in total, but he guessed it was at least a million swings…

When he finished with all the swings, Tyrone fell to the ground unconscious, every bone in his body aching, and the toxicity in his blood was felt even more vividly.

Still, Tyrone was certain of one thing – Spryta was conducting a very violent hustle.