Breathing heavily, I try to make the oxygen last. It could not be the first time I have done it, I have been for some time now, almost three years. Dodging the tons of people in the crowd seems easier than the times before. My feet lightly skim against the asphalt, barely making a sound.
"Come back here!" a husky voice yells in my direction; the 'healthy' figure running after me, glomping onto the pavement, "I will call the cops on you, kid!"...
I laugh, it is not the first incident. You see, my life has been pretty hectic. Being thrown out of the house at eleven, has really changed my perspective of things.
...I come to a dead end, brick wall to every side. Except for one door to my left, which I try my luck upon; open. Rushing inside the dark room, I slam it behind me, and my backpack gets caught in-between. I pull with all my strength, knowing if I get caught I am dead.
Once it breaks free, I lock the door; then back up slowly, making sure the coast is clear. I take one last step, maybe one too far, and hear, "Oumph!" I take out my flashlight and turn it on, scanning the room, a person comes to sight.
They are on the floor, knees to chest, a tee-shirt and baggy pants, dirty across their face. Squinting my eyes, easing closer, I make out more of their physical appearance, freckles, frizzy-red hair, a teenager like me, maybe fourteen.
"Heyo," I say as she gets up, then staggers back, "I am not going to hurt you." I kneel down, unzipping my backpack and picking out a fresher piece of bread than the others. Holding it out, I repeat, "I am not going to hurt you."
She takes a step closer, then back, then closer, finally snatching the bread from my hand; snarling, "Only because I could not get anything to eat these past few days." After scarfing it, she wipes the crumbs off her face, onto her sleeve.
"Okay, there is more if you want," I beckon.
"No! I do not want anymore. I would rather die than take food from you. This was a total last resort," she snaps, "Pride in gathering my own--"
"Woah, chill out. I was just offering," I put my hands up in a 'do not kill me' fashion, taking out a orange. She plumps to the ground in a huff, "Are you not afraid I could mug you?"
"I guess I could be scared," Replying, I hold up her no-finger gloves that were hanging out her back pocket just a moment before, "But, this is proof you should be worrying about me."
Grabbing it away, she stuffs it back, "So.. What is your name?" I look her up and down slyly, "Adam."
She brushes a strand of hair out of her face, "I am Nicole."
