Page 6 of Save Her

The fallen leaves and broken branches will alert me if anyone walks this way, giving me time to become alert and ready for them. Dropping my backpack and guitar, I lean back on a fallen tree trunk and stare up into the leaves above me. My mind wanders as I try my best not to fall asleep yet.

Allie Cat fills my mind, images of her flash behind my eyes, showing me all the good and the bad times we had. I wonder if she got a good family, or what she’s doing right now. There’s a part of me that knows I’ll never see her again, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing anyways.

Would she smile at me, the sweet, loving smile she only gave me, if we’re ever reunited? Would she laugh and push my shoulder, sayingDecin an annoyed and drawn out way? Would she finally whisperI love youagainst my lips as I kissed her like she’s my reason for living? Every single part of me yearns to see her again, to hear her laugh and see her eyes light up when I sing to her. Too bad my dreams never come true. I’m just not that lucky.

Dozing off, I run through memories of that beautiful girl, each one breaking my heart more than the last. The image of her screaming my name as she gets ripped away from me drags me back to consciousness, silent tears rolling down my cheeks as I relive it over and over again.

Soon I realize that the nightmare wasn’t the only thing to wake me up as I catch the sound of leaves rustling in front of me. Moments later two young guys, maybe three or four years older than me, walk into the clearing. Their clothes are ripped and dirty, their eyes bloodshot and unfocused. They stop suddenly when they see me, looking between each other and back at me.

“Fuck, no one was supposed to be here.” The taller one standing behind, nudges the other guy. They both stare me down, unease in both their faces.

“You one of Hosey’s boys?” the shorter one with long, greasy blonde hair asks, eyes darting all around.

“N-no,” I stutter out my answer, pushing myself to stand while grabbing my stuff off the ground. “I don’t know who Hosey is. If this spot is yours, I’ll leave. I was just looking for somewhere private to catch a little bit of sleep.”

The two guys look between each other again before the taller one nods and looks back at me. His green eyes stand out against the red, his brown hair short to his head. He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a switch blade and popping the knife out. The shorter one follows suit, both of them pointing knives at me as they stare me down.

“You have anything interesting in that backpack?” The taller one steps forward, holding out his hand for my bag. I twist, pushing it further behind me and glaring him down.

“No. Do I look like I would have anything? I just left a bad foster house, I have nothing to my name,” I explain, my exhaustion and irritation from everything that’s happened lately, making me bolder than I would normally be. “If you’re going to fucking stab me, just make sure it’s a guaranteed kill. I can’t fucking do this anymore. Just take me out of my misery. ”

The guys step back suddenly, they’re faces shocked and uneasy again. In one quick movement, they both turn and book it back the way they came, not bothering to try for my backpack again or come after me in any way. It seems I’m even too fucking crazy for the strung-out street thugs. That’s fucking fantastic.

Securely placing my stuff on my back, I head out in the opposite direction as them, no longer feeling safe in that little clearing. This is just a small glimpse into what my life will be like from now on. A shelter is out of the question until after I turn eighteen because they will most definitely call my case worker and I’ll be placed in a group home or with another family. That means for six more months, I’ll need to get used to not feeling safe or getting much sleep.

Pushing through the trees and bushes, I finally make my way to the edge and come out by a small stream, just small enough that I can hop the rocks over it. The city starts back up again, this time a lot more industrial than bars and nightlife. The streets are barren, my best guess is that it’s around four o’clock in the morning by now. The sky is getting brighter, but not bright enough that it could be sunset yet.

Making my way down the empty street, I look for anywhere I can call home for a little while. Just long enough so that I might be able to catch some more sleep. This concussion is dragging me down, making the exhaustion even more prevalent than normal. Safety has to come before my other needs though, so until I find somewhere I can feel protected, I won’t be getting any sleep.

My stomach grumbles as I walk, reminding me of yet another need I’ve been neglecting for a while. The dizziness and nausea hasn’t set in yet so I know I still have about five more hours before I have to cave and eat one of the few things I managed to steal before I left the Miller’s house. Learning when I can and can’t put off eating has been a survival instinct I perfected before I was even ten years old.

Stealing is something I only do when I have no other options, and eating is one of those things you can’t live without. I left the new sheets, the new toothbrush, even the brand new electronics that they had just lying around. Those would help me, but they aren’t mine and I refuse to be worse than I need to be to survive.

Coming up to an old stone building that looks like it’s still in good shape, I walk up, checking the doors and windows to see if I can get in to close my eyes for a bit. It still looks functional, but no one is here and it’s the safest place I can see around me. My head is pounding and pushing past the next row of shops and stores to find a more suitable place isn’t going to work.

Pushing up an unlocked window near the back of the building, I slip inside, dropping my bag and guitar in first and then pull myself in. The room smells like wheat and beer, the concrete floor cleaner than any of the places I’ve ever lived. There are large machines all around me looking like tall, metal ice cream cones.

Finding a small alcove near the window, I huddle into myself and close my eyes. It’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it’s warm, clean, and fairly safe looking so it’s the best I’m going to get. The moment my eyes close, I’m out, my body so drained from everything that’s happened in the last few days.

It feels like minutes that I’ve been asleep before I feel someone nudging me, pulling me from the dreams that star my sweet raven-haired Allie Cat. An older man is standing in front of me, concern etched on his face as sunlight streams in from the window behind me. My sleep must have been much longer than I thought it was if it’s already morning.

“I’m sorry.” I panic, standing up and grabbing all of my stuff together as I track the room to see how I can get out of here. “I just needed somewhere to sleep, I wasn’t stealing anything. I’m going to go now. I’m so sorry.”

The older man stands up, his over six feet of height making me extra nervous. After running a hand through his thick grey hair, he looks at me, moving his hand in front of him abruptly, causing me to flinch, curling myself into as small a ball as I can while I’m standing. A woman gasps, her sound drawing my scared eyes to her. She holds a hand over her mouth, the other hand over her heart as her eyes fill with tears.

The man quickly drops his hand, taking a step back to give me space. “You’re safe here. I’m not going to hit you, son. When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Shaking my head, I push my back against the wall, wanting to believe the man when he says I’m safe, but also knowing trust is something I can’t do anymore. The woman steps beside the man, her blonde and white hair tied up on her head as her warm brown eyes focus on me. They’re both dressed casually in jeans and plaid shirts, like young grandparents who own a farm or something.

“It’s okay, dear. My name is Poppy and this is my husband, Finn, a grumpy looking teddy bear. We just want to help you, however you’ll let us,” she says, genuine concern and understanding on her face. Something about the two of them makes me want to allow them to help me, to put some trust in them. The bigger part of me is screaming to run away because there’s no way anyone can help me.

“I don’t need help,” I mumble, shuffling my feet and looking away from them. “I just needed somewhere to sleep and I’m better now.”

“At least let us feed you and then you can go wherever you were headed,” Finn suggests, pulling his wife into his side to comfort her shaking form. “There’s a coffee shop just down the street and it has some great breakfast options. Poppy was just going to get things up and running while I ran to grab stuff. Let us get you something. You don’t even need to eat it here with us.”

Looking between the two of them, I finally relent and nod in agreement. As much as I just want to run and get out of here, the truth is I need to eat. If I take them up on this offer, then the food in my bag will last longer before I need to figure out my next food source.

“Did you have any favourite foods? I want to make sure we get you something you’ll love,” Poppy explains, clapping her hands in front of her with a big smile on her face.

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