The Real Story, chapter 6

So, anyway, like I said, I thought I was alone and no one was there to help me. But actually, someone was and he was lurking nearby. Very nearby.
My arms were folded since I was still cold, as I trudged down from one boulevard to the next. Suddenly, something caugt my eyes. Or should I say, someone. I saw the light of his silhouette first in the alleyway before I saw his whole self. And he was coming right at me.
I panicked. I had no idea who the fuck this guy was and I wasn't planning to. I wanted to run, but for some reason, my feet were glued to the sidewalk. So before you could count to 4, he was right in front of me.
"Hello, Jesus," he said. I jumped back and my eyes were wide. How did he know my name?
"I know who you are and I know you know who I am," he answered, as if reading my mind and puzzling me even more.
"Sorry, but I don't think we've met before," I answered uneasily, getting more and more freaked out by this guy.
"Oh yes you have. I'm that dark shadow lurking in the back of your mind. The one you turn to for help and you never realize it. The one that gives you strength to stand up to your mother. The suicidal part inside you."
Ok, he was really freaking me out. I don't ask anyone for help and it's not strength that made me stand up to my mother, it was the feeling of being fed up with her. And I have never felt suicidal...well, maybe once or twice, but not much. Who was this joker?
"Still don't know who I am? Here's one final hint: What was the name you thought of before leaving Jingletown?"
I felt like I was slapped in the face. No, it couldn't be. He wasn't real. It was just a name that I randomly thought of in that bathroom the night I ran away.
"Saint Jimmy?" I asked timidly.
"And you better not wear it out," he replied giving me a grin that gave me shivers down my spine.
"No," I breathed, backing away a little. "Are you a figment of my imagination or something? You can't be real; you just can't. You're not real."
"Oh, but I am, Jesus. You're not freaming me up. Go ahead, touch my arm. I'm as real as you can get." With a shaky hand, I slowly reached out to him and grabbed his arm, which I had expected to be ice cold due to his pale and pallid skin, it was actually quite warm. I looked around me to see if the people were staring at me weirdly if it looked like I was holding thin air, but they took no notice. Again, as if reading my mind, Jimmy flipped off a passing person, and offended, flipped him back before hurrying away.
I couldn't belive it; I would've fainted then and there if I wasn't so curious.
"So, you've been helping me or something?" I asked, trying to get things straight.
"Yeah. I've watched you back in Jingletown, seeing you struggle with your life and whatnot. I've sent help before, half the members of the Disciples were sent by me to help you out."
"And you've never shown your face, why?"
"Me? I like being in the shadow. Not much into the spotlight. Have others do my bidding. Until now."
"What do you mean?"
"Hello? You ran away, away from home and into a whole new life in the city. Knowing you had no experience and would eventually need help, I followed and decided to help you out directly."
"Experienced with the city, now are you?" I asked. I had to get to know this Saint Jimmy before I could trust him.
"Yeah. I was raised in the city. But now I'm a roamer, helping people here and there who need it. Indirectly of course. My helpers think of me as a leader, so we started a group called the Lost and Found, since that's what we do, help those are clueless and get them started, like you and you're friends."
"So why do they call you a saint? You don't look all that saintly to me."
"Yeah, well, a bunch of the people we help out deny that they're in need and that they can survive on their own. We persuade them to get their fucking heads out of the clouds and come to earth because they need our help. So the gang calls me the Patron Saint of the Denial.
"Because of my background, I've grown up fending for myself and I'm just used to telling people to fuck off and shut their mouth before I shoot them down and when they don't I just blast them," he nonchalantly, gesturing to a gun on his belt. My eyes widened.
"You've killed people before?" I asked, horrified.
"Hell yeah I have. But it's strictly buisness. I only assassinate if I have to. But I have done it for fun before. It's very entertaing, actually," Jimmy said, acting like what he was saying was no big deal and treating the subject as if they were talking about the weather. He saw the look on my face.
"Don't get me wrong, Jesus. I'm basically a good person with issues. Killing people doesn't happen very often and when it does, it's like, what, only three people, five at the most." For some reason, this soothed me a bit and I started to like Jimmy.
"So, you have other people work with guys who are clueless, and yet I'm such a special case that you come directly to me?" I asked, changing the subject.
"What can I say, Jesus," Jimmy replied, leanind against a building wall. "you're just like me. Like you eating only soda pop an ritalin when you're depressed, all i have is some ramen noodles, dope, and a packet of cigarettes. You're the leader of the Disciples and I'm the leader of the Lost and Found. And my mom's a bitch, too."
"Really? How about you're dad?" I asked, getting more and more comfortable with Jimmy, now that he was opening up.
"Him? My dad's like Edgar Allen Poe."
"Why's that? He into poetry or something?"
"Nah. Just like good old Mr. Poe, he was addicted to opium."
"Got it."
There was a brief moment of silence before Jimmy spoke again.
"So, you gonna let me help you?"
I thought for a moment and answered, "Yeah, I will. And my friends too?"
"Yes, I will help Johnny and Tunny. Of course I know them, I've been watching you, don't you think I'd know who you hang out with?" he asked, seeing the surprosed look on my face. "But indirectly. You'll be helping them?"
"How?" I asked. "i can't fend for myself, let alone help them fend for themselves."
"Have you not heard what I just said? I'll be helping you and you'll know enough to help them. And you can tell them who I am if you want. It shouldn't be a secret. I don't see why it should."
"Cool. So I guess I should head back now?"
"Guess you should. And I know you're car broke down, so I had some friends fix it up and drive it back to the motel you're staying at. Here," Jimmy said, pulling out a wad of money. "Take it and get a taxi back. Buy some groceries tomorrow, all the good stores are closed now. We'll be in touch. Right now, I have to figure out how to get you out of that flea pit you're staying at and into a decent apartment."
"You don't have to do this," I mumbled, pocketing the money.
"Don't worry about it. I know what you've gone through and it makes me feel better to know I'm helping someone who went through what I did as well. But you'll have to find a job yourself, got it?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Oh, and welcome to the Lost and Found, Jesus." And with that, he walked back toward the alleyway where he came from.
"Thanks, Saint Jimmy," I called out to his retreating back.
"That's my name," he replied. "And don't wear it out."