It was cold as shit and this these thin ass nursing scrubs were doing nothing for me.

I'm gonna take note to never wear one layer of clothes when I have a busted Buick to drive around town in tons of snow and no cell phone to call for help in case the piece of shit breaks down. If it wasn't for the last two dollars I had in my pocket, I would've been walking a lot further than I am now, even though an extra dollar would've been nice for that bus transfer so I could just catch the 83 to my front steps rather than walking six blocks from Callowhill Ave.

Whatever. I'm halfway home and if my toes don't break off from frost bite, I think I can slide through this day without wishing I wasn't stupid enoughto get up this morning.

"Shit..." I grumbled as I pulled my jacket around myself tighter and trudged up the one way street to my house. It was only six, but it was dark as all hell already. That was the joy of winter time in Philly. Mother Nature wasn't fuckin' around. The snow was seeping into my shoes. I sighed and stepped out into the street instead since the cars had flatten the snow down to a reasonable level. It was much easier than the sidewalk that lazy ass neighbors couldn't bother shoveling. Not that I should be talking shit, my house wasn't looking much better, but I had worked from five this morning to five tonight, so I had an excuse. It wasn't snowing this bad when I left, but the weather has certainly met the meterologist's prediction of blizzard like conditions.

I wanted to cry when I realized I'd be up again in the morning doing the same damn thing without my car this time. It was a piece of shit, but it was a warm piece of shit. My tears wouldn't come though, knowing that they'd just freeze against my cheeks.

"Excuse me." I almost didn't hear the voice over the howling winds, but it came stronger the second time around. "Excuse me!" I strained my eyes to see through the snow as I looked around me. The streets looked deserted, like a ghost town, and the owner of the voice was nowhere in sight. I was always supersitious, so I walked a little faster. I didn't want to be front page news of Unsolved Mysteries.

I was ready to haul ass when I felt a hand on my back, but I stopped and screamed inside as the face came into view. It was a pale one; a really young, white male one, and covered in blood. I said a silent prayer to God, asking him to reliquish this demon from in front of me and backed away quickly from the figure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I cursed over and over as I turned to jog up the block.

"Wait!" His voice strained and even though my mind told me to run and never look back, something in me made me turn around. I watched as he held his sides and fell to his knees in the middle of the street, doubled over in pain. I was panting as I took in his t-shirt and jeans. He was far from dressed appropriate for this weather and I wondered for a moment what a white boy was doing in my neighborhood in the first place.

His cuts and bruises were telling me a couple of fools thought the same thing and the thought that he was beat up and robbed crossed my mind. Jesus Christ, why are you doing this? I thought as I walked slowly up to his form.

"Sir?" I called timidly as he suddenly fell over causing me to jump back. "Sir!" I was a bit more desperate now because a dead white boy in my neighborhood would be even worse than a beat up one.

"It..." he groaned and I kneeled down to his level, turning his face gently with both my hands. His skin was freezing cold against my fingertips and I was overwhelmed with sadness.

"It what?" I inquired and for a long moment he was quiet.

"It hurts." He let out a wheeze that I jerked back away from before I stood and sighed.

"All right, sir," I said, taking on a professional nursing role like I had been taught to do so many times, "I need you to stand up." I held his arm and assisted him as he struggled to get off of the ground. "C'mon... that's good..." I peeled my jacket from my body and threw it over his shoulders, thankful that I always got my jackets too damn big so I could snuggle up in them. He remained hunched over as he looked over at me. His eyes were so blue that I had to look away at his feet, which I now saw were only covered in socks.

Damn, they jacked this boy good. What the fuck was he doing down here anyway? He must not be from around here because he'd know better... I wonder where he's from and as I glance up at his shivering face, I wonder where I've seen it before. He looked familiar, but not like I knew him, but seen him around somewhere.

Maybe at the hospital? I'm not that good with faces.

"Take it easy," I guided as I approached my front stairs. We took them slowly as I dug through my pockets for my keys. I found them and we entered my townhouse, which was so warm against my skin. He sighed next to me, but was still shaking. We took the stairs to the upper level of my two story home and my cat meowed as we passed it in the hall. It looked up at me as if to say Who's this? and I looked at him to say I wish I knew.

The bathroom was small, but accomadating and I left him at the door as I ran over to the tub and started to run a warm shower.

"Okay, we're gonna get you warmed up, okay?" I explained, "You just have to undress." I walked over and hesitatantly removed my jacket from his shoulders and he stood and let me remove the rest of his clothes. I was unfazed by nudity after all my years as nurse, and he didn't seem to care much either. Maybe he did work in the hospital.

"Easy..." I warned as he lifted his leg to climb into the shower. He got one side in and then the other and he hissed a bit as the warm water stung his cuts, I'm assumed. It took just a moment for him to relax and suck up the pain in order to warm up. "Use whatever you need," I informed him as I closed the curtain. "I'll be right back!" I jogged down the hall to my room and dug through my drawers to find him something to wear. I was glad to own so many sweats and t-shirts. I grabbed him a gray pair of swears and a yellow t-shirt. I found some white tube socks a clean towel. I went underneath my pillow and grabbed my pocket knife and first aid kit. It was for protection (the knife) because I lived alone and not in the safest area. Nothing has happened yet, but I don't want to start today. I don't know him and he's in my house with nobody but me. If he was crazy, he was gonna get cut as far as I was concerned.

As I made my way back up the hall, I heard the shower was still running. I placed the towel and clothes on the closed tolit seat before gathering his blood stained clothes. I dug through the pockets, looking for anything like an i.d. or drugs or weapons, but I got nothing but gum, wrappers from the chewed gum, and keys.

Figures.

I folded up his clothes and washed my hands just as the shower water turned off. I looked over at the shower and steam clouded out as he moved the curtain back. He wobbly held the wall for balance and I stood with his towel in hand.

"Let me help you," I demanded gently, opening up the towel and wrapping it around him. I held his waist and beneath his arm as he climbed out of the shower, slowly and in pain. When he settled, I turned and let him dry off and dress.

"Are you decent?" I asked as I slowly spun around. When I faced him, he looked down at his sock covered feet. "You don't talk?" I teased and he shrugged shyly.

"I dunno," he mumbled, "Do I?" I shrugged this time.

"I guess so," I commented, "Your mouth's moving and words are coming out."

"Yeah..." he trailed off and silence came over us for just a moment.

"Okay, well, I think I better patch you up." I gestured toward the toilet. "Have a seat." He did as told as I walked over and placed my kit on the edge of the sink beside him. I opened it up and pulled out all the bandages and alcohol I could find. "This'll sting a little," I warned. "Not that bad though." He nodded and I tilted his head upward to get a good view of the cut on the side of his head. I was ugly, but didn't need any stitches and it wasn't swelling; that was a good sign. I took out an alcohol pad and placed it against his skin.

"Ow!" he howled, pulling away and I swatted his hand when he went to touch it.

"Calm down," I told him before I blew over his cut, cooling the burn. I continued to blow on it as I reapplied some alcohol. He still hissed and whimpered, but it was better than before. I had patched him up completely and sighed when I finally finished.

"You used everything," he observed as I put back the three bandages I had left.

"Well, somebody fucked you up good," I said as gently as possible, "But you can buy me a new kit later. If your wallet ever shows up." He smirked.

"I'll remember that." I nodded.

"Okay, now I have to check your sides," I told him, "You were hunching over pretty bad." He stood from the toilet and towered over me by at least a foot. I was practically leveled at his rib cage as I pulled his shirt up. "Hold this." I instructed, giving him a chunk of his shirt as I gently pressed my fingers to his left side. He hissed.

"That hurts," he whined.

"Scale from 1-10."

"A billion." I pushed a bit firmer to feel if there were any weird gaps where bones should be and then did the same to the other side.

"I don't think anything's broken, but you're bruised up," I sadly shook my head, "You need to get an x-ray or CAT scan done at the hospital."

"I don't like hospitals," he quickly declined, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," I said, "You could be really bruised up in there."

He put down his shirt, covering up the abs I had taken notice of. "I'll live."

"Are you a nurse or am I?" I rhetorically inquired.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess you're the nurse."

"You've guess right..." I trailed off, realizing I didn't know his name. "Wait, what's your name anyway? You didn't have any I.D."

"It's..." he began, "It's..." I watched as he looked down and racked his brain for a moment. "Shit... what the fuck is it?" My eyes widened slightly.

"You don't know your name?" I asked slowly and he struggled for a while longer before shaking his head.

"No." He ran his hands over his slightly curly hair. "I don't know my name."

"Well..." I stammered, "Where... where are you from?"

"I... I don't know," he gasped, "Oh, god... I don't know."

"What do you do for a living? Who's your mom? What's your favorite color? Why are you here?" A million questions flew from my mouth and only one answer came from his.

"I don't know!" he panicked. "I don't fuckin' know!" I tried to regain a normal breathing pattern as I looked at his pacing form.

"Okay..." I said as calmly as possible. "We can figure this out... just... relax."

"Relax?" he questioned. "I don't know my favorite color and you expect me to calm down?" I halfway shrugged and sighed.

"Well, freaking out won't help, okay?" I reasoned. "Lets eat and then get a lot of rest. We'll be able to work this out in the morning and have all day to get this shit sorted out." He quiet for a moment and I was halfway expecting him to throw his hands up in the air and scream in horror. Hell, that's what I wanted to do.

There was a penniless, wallet less, white boy in my house in the middle of North Philly with cuts and bruises and memory loss and all I had was a pocket knife, three bandages, and a cat to protect me.

He'd probably kill me in my sleep, claim he doesn't remember anything, and get away with it.

Fuck.