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$5.00
StoryMy

My Name is Niko.

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My story is a complicated one.

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I’m not here to write about how I became homeless.
That’s another story. Instead, this is about
something good, bad and horrible: the shelter.

I went there after getting out of the hospital for
depression. I was like an infant on the floor having
to learn to crawl and then walk.

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It was new to me, yet familiar, after living in a
shelter most of my life in Brooklyn as a child. But I
still wanted to avoid it all.

My thought was to sleep the days away in the
shelter, and keep the people at bay. I slept more, ate
less, and lost myself in music and books.

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I was alone—no family, no friends, just a man
plagued with the stigma of homelessness.

I remained in a small cubicle area with another
man, CJ, who also laid aimlessly in bed. One day, I
decided to say hello. With that, I started to claw my
way out of the murky abyss of depression. CJ and I
then began to chat with JR, who was nearby. .

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The first week I knew JR, I didn’t realize that he
was blind because most days he didn’t use his cane.

I related to both CJ and JR. They became family to
me in a matter of months. The depression and men­
tal issues all seemed beatable now that I had these
great guys in my corner.

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Then that night happened.

It was 2:00 am in the shower room and I was
alone—or so I thought.

The mental medication I took made me woozy, so I
didn’t see them coming.

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A group of men pinned me against the wall and
held a rag over my mouth to muffle the cries for help.
They raped me. When I fell, they kicked me.

I wanted to black out. I was weak and it hurt to
breathe. I stumbled back to my bed.

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I couldn’t sleep all night, and I spiraled even deep­
er into the shadowy damp pit. CJ knew something
was up that morning. I had a bottle of pills and was
mumbling to myself.

He told the shelter’s director about my behavoirs. I
had to sit down with her and my case manager.

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They listened to what I had to say—but I only told
half the truth because I was scared and ashamed to
let the whole story be known.

I told them I’d be okay.

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CJ and JR were all I had. They began caring for me
and trying to rescue me from the pit.

One morning, JR dragged me out of bed and made
me get dressed. He took me to see a movie. It was a
wonderful time because he treated me like a son and
gave me words of wisdom like a father.

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I learned about him and learned from him. It felt
so surreal to be out of that place and to get a sense of
normalcy.

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I was recently released from the hospital for the sec­
ond time in the last year after a mental breakdown.

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Thank you to CJ and JR for providing the laughs
and words of wisdom that have helped me learn to
crawl again.

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A voice and a job
for people facing
homelessness.

They buy magazines for cheap, sell them to you
and keep all of the money. It starts a cycle of
income, dignity and hope.

Since 2011. Nonprofit. Please doante!

501 Hawthorne Lane
Charlotte, NC 28204

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