With a Little Bit of...Something
1
It was darker then usual. Sitting next to the garbage can in the next alley over, the sounds of the night started to scare me. I slid up against the side of the dumpster, disregarding the smell. The worn and torn blanket that my grandmother had made me was draped around my shoulders, not really doing much.
This was my safe zone. My "home". My parents, very strict and bussiness-like, kicked me out of my house for getting pregnant, unknowing that it was forced upon me. "We are VERY dissapointed in you, Lilly." My mother had said, sternly, crossing her arms. My father's face wasn't as hard, and I could tell he was holding back tears as he said, "Get your stuff." I didn't beg, or plead to stay. I just walked up the stairs calmly, expecting Bradly to let me stay with him.
He pushed me away violently, causing me to run into the large oak tree in his front yard. "Get the fuck out of here, slut!" He shouted. "That thing isn't even mine!" And, thus, he slamed the door in my face. I had no where else to go but here. I wasn't starving, just lonely. I got food from an old friend that worked at a resturaunt down the street. He was kind hearted. He even suggested I stay with him. His wife didn't approve.
I alternate from alley to alley, shelter to shelter. It's been about 3 months. I had a miscarrige and Bill -the old friend- sped me to the hospital. "You lost your baby..." I remember the nurse saying, expressionless. She was glad, I assumed. I was too young to have a baby. I cried into Bill's chest for hours, until the doctors finally told me to get out.
So, I'm here. This is my favorite alley. Usually quiet; now filled with the sounds of cats screahing and banging from the apartment a few stories up. All I can say is that I didn't want to know what was going on up there, even though I had a pretty firm idea.
I leaned on the brick building behind me, hiding my face in my arms and letting a tear fall. Please, get me out of here.
"Woah," I heard above me. "You must be fucking FREEZING!"
I uncovered my face, looking up, startled. He wasn't clear to see, but his voice gave his gender away. The only thing I could really see is that he was smiling warmly. I didn't say anything, I just stared. After a minute, he coughed.
"Sweety, how old are you?" When I didn't say anything, he sighed, kneeling down to me. The lights that shined down from the building lightly shined on his face, dimmly showing his features. He had black hair, just above his shoulders. His eyes were brown and caring, with a hint of worry, and his smile was now a bit concerned.
"How old are you?" he asked again. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling the dryness.
"S-Seventeen..." I stuttered hoarsly. He blinked, realizing why I was being so squeemish.
"Honey! I'm not going to hurt you! I want to help." I thought about that for a second, tilting my head slightly.
'Y-you, want to HELP me?" I quesitoned almost silently. He had to strain his neck to hear me. He nodded, putting the warm smile back on his face. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I trust him? Maybe... Maybe not. Why would a stanger want to help me? No one's that nice... He doesn't even know me... What if he tries something? How could I tell? His eyes grew soft as he watched me think him through.
"I get it," he exclaimed softly, standing up, face hidden in the shadows once again. "I promise- I SWEAR I will not hurt you." He pasued. "You can trust me." And, I believed him. His voice was so kind, so much so that I felt like I was forced to believe him. Again, I tilted my head, but, as he reached his hand out to help me off the wet pavement, I took it. He pulled me up, now eye level.
"You have absolutely NOTHING to worry about. I keep my promises." He spoke softly, gentely sqeezing my hand. I nodded walking along with him. I trusted his every word, struck with a trust I'd never felt before. But, even as we walked, I wondered what brought him to do such a nice thing.
This was my safe zone. My "home". My parents, very strict and bussiness-like, kicked me out of my house for getting pregnant, unknowing that it was forced upon me. "We are VERY dissapointed in you, Lilly." My mother had said, sternly, crossing her arms. My father's face wasn't as hard, and I could tell he was holding back tears as he said, "Get your stuff." I didn't beg, or plead to stay. I just walked up the stairs calmly, expecting Bradly to let me stay with him.
He pushed me away violently, causing me to run into the large oak tree in his front yard. "Get the fuck out of here, slut!" He shouted. "That thing isn't even mine!" And, thus, he slamed the door in my face. I had no where else to go but here. I wasn't starving, just lonely. I got food from an old friend that worked at a resturaunt down the street. He was kind hearted. He even suggested I stay with him. His wife didn't approve.
I alternate from alley to alley, shelter to shelter. It's been about 3 months. I had a miscarrige and Bill -the old friend- sped me to the hospital. "You lost your baby..." I remember the nurse saying, expressionless. She was glad, I assumed. I was too young to have a baby. I cried into Bill's chest for hours, until the doctors finally told me to get out.
So, I'm here. This is my favorite alley. Usually quiet; now filled with the sounds of cats screahing and banging from the apartment a few stories up. All I can say is that I didn't want to know what was going on up there, even though I had a pretty firm idea.
I leaned on the brick building behind me, hiding my face in my arms and letting a tear fall. Please, get me out of here.
"Woah," I heard above me. "You must be fucking FREEZING!"
I uncovered my face, looking up, startled. He wasn't clear to see, but his voice gave his gender away. The only thing I could really see is that he was smiling warmly. I didn't say anything, I just stared. After a minute, he coughed.
"Sweety, how old are you?" When I didn't say anything, he sighed, kneeling down to me. The lights that shined down from the building lightly shined on his face, dimmly showing his features. He had black hair, just above his shoulders. His eyes were brown and caring, with a hint of worry, and his smile was now a bit concerned.
"How old are you?" he asked again. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling the dryness.
"S-Seventeen..." I stuttered hoarsly. He blinked, realizing why I was being so squeemish.
"Honey! I'm not going to hurt you! I want to help." I thought about that for a second, tilting my head slightly.
'Y-you, want to HELP me?" I quesitoned almost silently. He had to strain his neck to hear me. He nodded, putting the warm smile back on his face. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I trust him? Maybe... Maybe not. Why would a stanger want to help me? No one's that nice... He doesn't even know me... What if he tries something? How could I tell? His eyes grew soft as he watched me think him through.
"I get it," he exclaimed softly, standing up, face hidden in the shadows once again. "I promise- I SWEAR I will not hurt you." He pasued. "You can trust me." And, I believed him. His voice was so kind, so much so that I felt like I was forced to believe him. Again, I tilted my head, but, as he reached his hand out to help me off the wet pavement, I took it. He pulled me up, now eye level.
"You have absolutely NOTHING to worry about. I keep my promises." He spoke softly, gentely sqeezing my hand. I nodded walking along with him. I trusted his every word, struck with a trust I'd never felt before. But, even as we walked, I wondered what brought him to do such a nice thing.