Bitch

"So the deal is, you look as innocent as possible and then you tell them you're starving blahblahblah and then you ask for change. Don't immediately ask for money straight away though: they don't like that. The idea is to just ask for a few coins or anything spare they have left in their purse. It makes it seem like a small amount so they're more likely to actually give it to you. And another thing, don't demand and don't nag them too much, there's no need to get down onto your hands and knees and there's no need to grab hold of their legs so they can't run away. You have to look desperate at the same time as seeming a decent person. Remember, these people look down at people like us, they see us as more animals than humans. We live out on the street, we scavenge for food, they see us as no more than mere rats. So it's important that we seem as respectable as possible." The boy explained to her.

Chantelle nodded, not really listening, just nodding along with everything he said. Her mind was in other places and she didn't really have any interest of anything he was saying. She knew that as soon as he turned his back, she'll be gone before he can say the words "Please sir, may I have some more?". She didn't plan on staying out in this wilderness like this any longer and she didn't plan to grovel for food like this begrimed and bedraggled street urchin was expecting her to.

Chantelle thought about her escape plan. It was simple really, all she had to do was ask someone if she could borrow their phone so she could ring her parents and beg for their forgiveness. Well, not really beg, but just demand that they come and find her. Chantelle wasn't going to beg like a homeless person. She would never stoop that low.

Chantelle looked at the boy and realized he'd been staring at her for quite some time now. She raised an eyebrow as to question why and he cleared his throat.
"I asked if you wanted me to quickly show you how it's done?" He repeated, giving Chantelle an uneasy look.
Chantelle blinked. "I hardly think that'll be necessary." She muttered and the boy pursed his chapped lips together.

He didn't trust Chantelle, she could see that clearly. He was an older boy, around 20 years old with ruffled brown hair and deep grey eyes that seemed quite relaxed compared to most the kids Chantelle had seen hanging around the underpass. And also unlike most of the kids, he had actually washed not too long ago. There was still some specks of mud across his holey black checked shirt but other than that, he was clean. His hair and nails had been freshly cut too, the other children had long greasy hair and long claw like chipped fingernails while some of the boys were growing out of control long straggly beards.

Chantelle didn't know his name. In fact, she didn't know much about him at all. He was a stranger. The Isaac guy just dumped him on her and ordered him to show her how begging is done. Like Isaac himself, the boy hadn't been happy with it at all.
"I'll get Scarlet to help you out," The boy muttered and Chantelle's eyes went wide.
"Oh, there's no need for that! I'm perfectly capable of dealing with...this myself," Chantelle assured.
The boy laughed. "And what? Leave you to wonder around New York so you can go running to the nearest police station?" He barked. "I don't think that would be very wise."
Chantelle scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away. The boy looked at her with an amused grin playing his dry lips.
"Just because I may dress differently to you, live differently to you and I have to beg others for money that could buy me my next meal; it doesn't make me any less intelligent than you. Or human as a matter of fact, so you can stop it with that look you keep giving me." He snapped, his patience rising to a whole new level.
Chantelle looked at him, sticking her nose in the air. "And what look is that?" She asked blankly.
The boy cocked his head to the side. "You look at me like I'm dirt, and you treat me like dirt for that matter."
Chantelle turned her eyes down to the floor, tapping her foot with annoyance.
"And hopefully this little outing today will make you learn to give us some respect!" The boy muttered. "I've met people like you. You think you're better than us just because you have a warm bed to snuggle into at night and the pleasure of three delicious meals a day. You think that just because we don't have the luxury of fresh clean clothes or a nice bath everyday that we're beyond you, we're below you. You think that just because we don't live under a roof, we're not even considered as people." The boy sighed, looking down at his worn mud caked boots. "Well I'm just the same as you. I have a family, I have a life. And you'll find that you're probably going to have to get used to us because you're gonna be with us a while"
Chantelle's draw dropped, her usually nicely tanned skin lost it's colour and her eyes grew wide in fear. She looked mortified. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"What do you mean, you're gonna be with us for a while?" She gasped, her voice raising slightly and her hands starting to sweat.
The boy smirked, "You really didn't think you'd be home by tonight did you? Love, you're gonna be sleeping with us tonight in the dirt and the cold...just like a regular homeless person. So you might wanna get used to us pretty soon or you're gonna find yourself in a very uncomfortable situation."

He suddenly looked across the street over Chantelle's shoulder and his eyes widened.
"Ah, here's Scarlet now," He smiled and Chantelle looked over to the direction he was waving over to.
A girl, around 16 years old stood across the street and was looking around for something or someone. Her eyes widened when she spotted the waving boy and she smiled, making her way over towards him and Chantelle. She was tall and wearing a worn old black leather jacket that looked as though it would have been quite expensive back in it's day but wouldn't be worth a penny in the state it was in now. She had long stringy dark hair and narrowing cold eyes which grew darker as they lay upon Chantelle.
"What do you want Kris?" She asked harshly, then coughing, trying to calm herself down.
She kept on glancing at Chantelle from time to time. Like it was hard not to stare. Well maybe it was hard not to stare, she currently looked like a common prostitute and it was probably hard not to run off screaming "Help, Big foot!" by the state her hair was in.
"I want you to show her how you work," Kris told Scarlet and Scarlet rolled her eyes.
"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Have you seen this girl?" Scarlet spat and Chantelle flinched. "It'll be like trying to teach a monkey how to play chess."
"But that's not impossible so this shouldn't be either," Kris pointed out and then sighed. "Come on Scarlet, I'm sure you can survive just one day with her."
Scarlet rolled her eyes. "And what do I get out of it?"
Kris paused, chewing the inside of his mouth as he crossed his arms. He cocked his head to the side again, Chantelle noticed that he often tended to do that while he was pondering about something.
"I'll buy you a subway," He finally said and Scarlet actually considered this, shrugging a little and nodding.
"Okay, fine. I'll show her how it's done." She pointed at Kris. "But don't you dare think this as an opportunity to dump every newbie on me like this. This is the one and only time I'm doing this." The girl conditioned and Kris nodded.
"Whatever, just bring her back to me before dark," He muttered. "I'll be at the underpass if you need me."

"So I have to just go up to them and ask?" Chantelle questioned Scarlet and Scarlet nodded.
"Yeah, don't just wait for them to approach you first because they wont. They'd find it a lot easier if you just went walking up to them."
Chantelle nodded, glancing around her at the people passing by. She couldn't do this. She wasn't going to do this. No way was she going to beg for money just so she could afford a meal tonight. It wasn't right. She had a home to go to, she had a family. This wasn't her fault. Sure, she felt sorry for the people who really did have to endure living like this blahblahblah. But to be honest, she really couldn't care less because she had no reason to be here at all.
"Right, you see that woman in the red coat over there?" Scarlet asked, pointing over to some middle aged woman carrying a designer handbag and wearing expensive custom shades.
Chantelle nodded, although not really concentrating at all. Her eyes were trained on the boy behind the middle aged woman who looked to be around 17 years old and had spiky blonde hair and a killer tan. They locked eyes and the boy squinted, trying to work her out over the long distance and the blinding sunlight. She gave him a smirk and the boy looked at her weirdly before shaking his head and walking away. Chantelle pouted, remembering that she must look like a state with her torn clothes and make-up smeared face. For once boys were rejecting her and it didn't feel right.

Suddenly a hand was waved in front of her face and Chantelle was snapped out of her trance. She glared at Scarlet who rolled her dark eyes dramatically.
"Are you even listening?" Scarlet snapped and Chantelle shrugged.
"Right, go up to that woman and ask her for money," Scarlet demanded and Chantelle shook her head frantically. "Do it or you'll get no food tonight," Scarlet growled and Chantelle rolled her eyes.
They couldn't stop her from eating. She was practically a guest for Christ's sake. It was their fault she was kidnapped in the first place!
"For fuck's sake, if you don't go and ask that woman for money, I'm gonna hurt you," The girl snapped and Chantelle jumped back in surprise of the Scarlet's sudden mood change.

Chantelle pursed her lips together, opening her mouth to say something before deciding against it and snapping her mouth shut again like a goldfish. Her lips twitched and she looked Scarlet up and down, deciding on what to do or what to say. Scarlet rolled her eyes once more before grabbing Chantelle by the shoulders roughly and steering her round so she was facing the rich looking woman. She pushed Chantelle forward.
"Now." She growled and Chantelle gulped, stumbling forward.
She stood up, straightening herself out and trying her best to pat down her hair before striding towards the woman who looked her up and down in disgust after noticing Chantelle walking towards her.
"Hey," Chantelle began, giving the woman a little wave.
The woman just frowned, obviously wanting to be elsewhere.
"So, yeah," Chantelle began, shuffling uneasily on her feet. "Got any money?" She asked, completely going against everything Kris had told her.
The woman just looked at Chantelle with a baffled expression before tightening her grip on that gloriously expensive looking handbag and scurrying away as quick as she could. Chantelle just pouted, spinning round on her heels and approaching a very mad looking Scarlet.

"That.Was.Pathetic." Scarlet scolded, tapping her foot and Chantelle shrugged. t kinda went with her favourite motto, you don't have to be good at something you don't want to do. "Looks like we're going to have to try a whole new technique with you." Scarlet muttered.
Chantelle frowned. "What are you talking about?" She asked curiously and Scarlet gave the girl a mischievous grin.
"Just a few things I picked up back when I found begging didn't really get me anywhere," Scarlet sneered.
Chantelle looked panicked. "What is it? We're not gonna steal are we?" She gasped and Scarlet laughed.
"It's not so bad, the idea is not to get caught." She gave Chantelle a wink. "But it's best if we don't try that today though. I don't really see you suiting them bright orange prison overalls."
Chantelle sighed with relief. Then an idea popped up in her head, she grinned at Scarlet. "Maybe you could give me a demonstration on how it's done?" She asked and Scarlet looked at her weirdly.
Scarlet pursed her lips together, obviously not happy with this. "Fine." She snapped "But if you still fail after this then I don't give a shit, you can starve tonight for all I care."
Chantelle nodded. "Understood."
Scarlet frowned before searching around and spotting a victim. She looked at Chantelle, motioning for her to watch before walking off towards a middle aged man in a suit and carrying a briefcase.

Chantelle smiled to herself. Taking the time while Scarlet had her back turned to leg it. Chantelle immediately took off in the opposite direction. At first she was unsteady running on her high heels but after a while she got the hang of it and was slowly sprinting through the street, shoving past passers by and charging through the heavily moving crowd. There was a few shouts coming behind her but Chantelle just kept on running. Faster than ever before. Her heart pounding and her breathing ragged. She did it. She was free from her kidnappers. Now all she had to do was either find her way back to the hotel or find someone to help her. She'd never felt better in her entire life.

Three hours later and still no luck. The night was growing nearer and all the light was slowly being sucked up into the red horizon. Chantelle was panicking now. There was no doubt about that. She hadn't been able to make her way back to the hotel. Obviously. And now she was really really wishing she'd just stuck with Scarlet to beg for money all day long, so she could live throughout the night without starving to death. But there was no chance of that happening now because she couldn't find Scarlet anywhere either. In fact, Chantelle didn't know where she was at all. She was lost in New York and there was nothing she could do about it but find a hole to crawl into and cry her eyes out. Cry away her troubles and wail about her past. That was Chantelle's survival technique and that was exactly what she was planning on doing.

Chantelle wandered aimlessly over to a nearby door step, slumping down onto the hard concrete and burying her head into her hands. It was cold, she was hungry and she was filthy. She was lost and she didn't know what to do. Chantelle was a wreck. She sobbed into her hands helplessly, confused and broken. Feeling more small and helpless than ever. A voice was what broke her away from her miserable crying.
"Miss, are you okay?" A British accent came.
Chantelle sniffed, looking up and gasping.
The boy who stood there had brown greasy hair and huge brown eyes. He was around her age and looked strangely familiar. Then Chantelle remembered with a sick gut feeling. This was the boy she had seen earlier that day in the town street when she was walking down the shops with her parents. The one who had been sitting there with a coffee mug and seemed strange to Chantelle because he had looked so bored. And Chantelle had just walked straight past him without paying him any attention.
"Hey." He smiled. "My name's Malcom."