Chapter Twenty Four - [Kira's House.]

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I found Kira not far from the farmer's market.

There was a park about a block away, and when I looked a few other places and could not find her I decided to think like an eight year old girl. She was sitting on one of the swings, eating an apple. As I approached her, she made no acknowledgement that I was even there.

"Where did you get that apple, Kira?" I asked gently.

I didn't think that she was going to answer. For a long moment, silence stretched between the two of us. The solemn look on her face broke my heart. She was much more grown up than a girl her age should be.

"My dad doesn't really buy food."

This wasn't what I expected. She was clearly smarter than most kids her age, being able to answer the question I'd really been asking: why had she been stealing again? I hesitated, not sure how to respond to this.

"Why doesn't he buy food?"

"He uh...He spends a lot of money on beer."

"Does he leave you alone a lot?"

"Yes, but I like that."

"Does your dad hit you, Kira?" I asked.

She looked at me then, making eye contact for the first time in the conversation. There was a fear in her eyes then, one I can tell she was good at hiding. Her voice shook as she spoke.

"Only when I'm bad."

I hated him. I didn't even know him, and I hated him. How could he do this to a defenseless little girl? Someone who loved him, who needed him to be there for her, to protect and provide for her. Not to abuse and neglect her.

"Is your dad home now?" I asked.

"Daddy is at the bar now," Kira answered.

"Can I see where you live?"

Kira hopped off the swing then, tossing aside the apple that she had finished. She started walking toward a neighborhood the other way from downtown. Reaching the other end of the park, we reached an intersection. With out a word,  she reached up and grabbed my hand.

She trusted me.

I realized this then that Kira was an introvert, and she probably wouldn't talk or let me anywhere near her if she didn't trust me. I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve her trust. All I'd been doing was asking questions about her home life, which I'm sure was intimidating to someone who was trained to hide it. Once we were across the street, she let go of my hand.

We walked for a while in silence, and I watched as the houses got steadily and steadily less nice. Finally, Kira stopped in front of a house that had a dilapidated metal fence surrounding the yard that had dead grass and an even more dead tree. The house was a light blue, and the paint was chipped and one of the shudders was almost falling off. The stone of the porch was broken in pieces.

"I'll show you inside," She said, reaching forward and pushing open the metal fence.

The inside was not much better than the inside. It was sort of bare, the living room holding nothing but a couch, a coffee table and a TV on a small stand. The coffee table was littered with beer bottles. The kitchen was about the same, and the entire house was in need of a good cleaning.

I followed her up the rickety stairs to her room, which had only  a few toys, a dresser and a mattress on the floor. It was easily the cleanest room in the house, much more organized than the others.

Over the course of the next hour, I took every empty beer bottle and threw it in the trash can at the end of the driveway. I cleaned up what I could and Kira and I went to the nearest store and I bought a good amount of food for her. I put what needed to be cold in the fridge and hid the rest in her room.

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