The Crossing

The Crossing

by Steve Colori

“Just step in front of the car,” Deggers said. “It’s real simple. The broad’s gonna run over your ankle, we’ll take her to court, we’ll get the money.”

“I dunno if I can do that,” Jackson said. A light rain had been misting from the start of the day. Darker clouds were rolling in from the horizon.

“Just pick out a God damn Land Rover and do it. Your ankle will heal.”

“Can’t we just jump a few kids or somethin’? Make up the money that way.”

“That’s not a terrible idea.” Deggers replied. Rain drops were running from the sides of his trench coat. Deggers was holding his hand to his chin and his brow wrinkled from deep thought. “I don’t think it’s gonna cut it. We’d gotta get like ten iPhones at full price to make up the debt.”

“Let’s just sell more drugs,” Jackson said.

“Hello! Is anybody home? Our dealer’s the one who wants to put you six feet under.”

“Oh, um.. yeah. Right.” Jackson started thumbing through his phone and put two hands to the screen.

“You playing that damn game again?” Deggers asked.

“Well, uhh, what’s it look like?”

“Get the hell off the phone. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll get over to Highland Ave where all the yuppies live and we’ll camp out like ten feet from the corner. Then you step into traffic and get that damn ankle broken and we’ll just take them to court. Alright?”

“I don’t wanna break my ankle.”

“You don’t have a choice. It’s your life on the line.”

Gasping for breath Jackson felt his thyroid pulsing. An electric current seemed to be running through him and the energy increased with every step.

“You’ll be fine. Enough with this acting job,” Deggers said.

“It’s not your ankle.”

“Listen; you screwed up the drop, so  you have to pay the price. I’m not takin’ the fall for somethin’ that wasn’t my fault. All you had to do was–”

“Alright. I get it. Just lemme play my game. I just gotta take my mind off this for a minute. Get my shit together.”

The dynamic duo started the short walk to Highland Ave but Deggers stopped momentarily to take a phone call. He turned away from the road and looked back at a black dog staring him down. Baring it’s teeth the dog snarled and took a step forward. It’s ears were back and it continued pacing their way. Deggers cracked his knuckles. He’d fought a dog before and wasn’t afraid to do it again.


“What the hell was that?!” Deggers yelled. Turning to the crossing he searched for Jackson. A streak of red and an armored car were all that was visible.

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Steve Colori
Steve Colori was born in 1986 and during undergrad he developed schizoaffective disorder. Over the years he has worked hard to overcome the disorder and help others while doing so. Steve Colori has published eight articles with Oxford Medical Journals, he has written freelance for Mclean Hospital since 2011, and he has a memoir available on Amazon, Experiencing and Overcoming Schizoaffective Disorder. He writes regularly for The Good Men’s Project  in the Health & Wellness and Social Justice Sections. Steve has also been lecturing Mclean Hospital’s Harvard Resident Doctors since 2012. To read more of his work please visit

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