I'm Not Trash

Lowest Point

Three days had passed since Bill was kicked out by Miranda. His first day on the streets, he had to sleep on a park bench because he had no place to stay. On the next day, he joined the queue at the homeless building to get a room, so he also needed to sleep while enduring the cold air again. As for his stomach, Bill had to endure hunger all day, until it was time for the free bread distribution near the bakery he was passing by at the time.

"How long do I have to live like this?" Bill grumbled to himself as he ate the peanut butter-filled bread he'd gotten after fighting with the homeless people.

Bill felt annoyed with his current situation. Whereas before, he had been determined to prove to everyone if he was not a sampau, but if the situation continued like this, how should he change his fate? In fact, just to fill his stomach he had to wait for bread that was no longer sold.

"If it continues like this, being successful is just nonsense." Bill grumbled again. He chewed roughly, but a moment later, his mouth stopped chewing as he remembered someone.

"Alexander." Bill muttered softly. His eyes lit up instantly, as if he had just found a forgotten treasure.

"Yeah, right. I need to see Alexander." Bill muttered to himself. "Although he still can't return my money, but at least, he can help me get out of this situation. He can definitely shelter me for a while."

The worry in Bill's heart eased a lot as he felt that he had found a solution. He quickly finished the bread in his hand and returned to the Tunawsima shelter where he had been staying for the past two nights.

The next day, Bill left the building early in the morning. The late-autumn air, which was starting to get cold, felt prickly on the man's skin. He didn't even have a coat thick enough for the winter that would soon arrive. Only a small portion of Bill's clothes were in the suitcase Miranda was currently dragging. Even then, it was only summer clothes.

With those thin clothes, Bill was forced to busk on the streets first using a musical instrument he borrowed from a fellow homeless person. He had to go somewhere to meet someone named Alexander. And to get to that place, Bill had to use the subway, so he needed money to buy a ticket.

By the time daylight broke, Bill had enough money to go to the address Alexander had told him he lived at.

"Who are you looking for?" A tattooed man confronted Bill and asked him in a very unfriendly manner as Bill arrived at an unsafe neighborhood, which turned out to be his destination address.

"I'm looking for someone who lives here. His name is Alexander." Bill said.

"Alexander?" The tattooed man seemed to stare at Bill while squinting his eyes slightly. "There's no one named Alexander here."

"Really?" asked Bill incredulously. He had made quite an effort to come to that place. He couldn't leave empty-handed. At the very least, he had to meet Alexander first, the man he'd trusted to manage his money for investment a year ago, but instead used it for fun.

"Nothing. You have the wrong address." The man said again.

"The last time he contacted me, he said he lived here with his distant relatives." Bill said again.

Previously, Alexander had indeed contacted Bill and promised to reimburse Bill for all the money he had misappropriated. He also gave his new address as a symbol of his good faith. However, Bill has not had time to come to the address given by Alexander because lately he has been busy looking for work.

"I told you, there is no such thing as Alexander here." The tattooed man insisted. For some reason, he seemed to object strongly to Bill entering the neighborhood. Very suspicious.

"What's wrong?" One of the tattooed man's friends came over and asked.

"I'm looking for someone named Alexander. A while ago, he told me that he lives at this address now. I have an urgent need with that person." Bill replied, trying to remain polite even though he was starting to feel annoyed.

"My friend told you that no one named Alexander lives in this neighborhood." The tattooed man's friend had said the same thing.

Not at a loss for ideas, Bill took out his cell phone, which was almost out of power, and showed a photo of himself with Alexander.

"This is the guy. Have you guys really never seen him in this neighborhood?" Bill asked, showing his phone screen.

The two men looked a little surprised, then looked at each other for a moment. Bill guessed that they both knew Alexander.

"You guys know him, right?" Bill asked.

The two men looked at each other again, before one of them finally opened his mouth.

"That man hasn't lived in this neighborhood for long. His name is Josh, not Alexander." The tattooed man told Bill with a different intonation than before.

Bill flashed a relieved smile. Although Alexander had apparently disguised his name, Bill was still able to meet the man.

"Apparently, he introduced himself to us under a different name." Bill said.

"Yeah, but you still can't meet Josh." The tattooed man said again.

Bill's expression immediately changed. He frowned slightly.

"Josh is dead." The other man said, before Bill could ask another question.

"What?" Bill gasped with a look of disbelief.

"A while ago, he got into an argument with someone, and was found lifeless the next day." The tattooed man explained.

Bill was still stunned with a look of disbelief on his face. Alexander was dead? Then what would happen to him if he really was dead?

"You're not wrong? He's really dead?" Bill asked again to make sure.

"Yes. I heard that he has a lot of debts everywhere. A lot of people have been scammed by him too, so maybe one of them has a grudge." The tattooed man said.

Bill was silent. What the tattooed man said made sense and fit Alexander perfectly.

"Alright__" Bill muttered finally as he let out a long sigh. "Thanks for the information."

Bill left the place with weak legs. His last hope was gone. Now he really didn't know what to do. He just kept walking, without knowing the direction and destination.

After walking for a while, Bill sat down on a bench at a bus stop because he felt tired. Since earlier, his stomach also felt sore and twisted, while the money he got from busking earlier was only enough to buy a subway ticket. Once again, Bill could only sigh rather roughly. If he didn't remember his determination to prove that he wasn't trash, he might have crashed into a passing vehicle by now. Bill could tell that this was the lowest point in his life.

"Bill!" Bill's reverie was interrupted when he heard someone shouting his name from a distance.

"Bill! Gosh, you really are Bill Davish, aren't you?" A familiar female figure in Bill's memory seemed to be approaching towards him with a pleased expression.