Alive (One Direction)

one

Unknown

"Shit."

I remain, crouched behind the tall, looming dumpster, shivering in the cold. I don't have a thick winter coat, let alone money to pay for one.

My shirt is barely intact and worn, jeans ripped up and destroyed. Instead of makeup covering my thin, pale face, there is dirt, scars, and grit.

I don't try to look this way. If I could change anything about my life, it would be everything.

Covered head to toe in wood chips, gravel stones, and, occasionally, blood, I don't try to pretend I have the best life.

My appearance and lifestyle show how much I've given up.

At one time, I was one of those lucky girls. I was once one of those lucky girls with enough money to buy a mansion and fashionable clothing. 

But I had to leave it all behind.

A man, with a voice as deep as a bottomless pit, curses again, and I hear a couple heavy objects clatter to the solid concrete beneath the both of us.

I squeeze my dirt-encrusted eyes shut, trying to block the horrid noise out.

He quickly drops to the ground in attempt to pick up the remains of whatever he managed to stumble upon, cursing as he works.

This has to be a nightmare. No one comes to this part of town, no one.

I had made sure of that before permanently settling in this dark enclosement for the past couple of weeks.

I had made sure no one would find me here, lurking in the shadows.

What does this idiot want from me?

I peer over the short, iron-rusted fence over at him in fear. He stands near the stack of old schoolbooks, or is it the worn-out ragged clothing?

"What the fuck?" I hear him say to himself, and from all the gagging I know he must be holding the muddy can of chicken-noodle soup, or perhaps the slightly rotten tomatoes. "This is disgusting."

There is more commotion as he shoves it aside and picks up the trash lid, my usual dinner plate, and I hear him moving closer to my trembling figure and dumps it all in the dumpster three feet away.

I hold in my breath and prevent myself from bursting into tears.

There goes dinner for tonight.

I worked so hard to get those. Hours of preparation, all into a carefully executed routine.

But it's not like I have anything else to do, anyways.

The stranger backs away, slowly, clearly distracted. He pulls out an object from his coat pocket and switches it on, emitting a blinding light.

I squint, shielding my eyes. It's that brain-washing device everyone seems to have- a cell phone.

"Harry Styles." He growls into the piece of plastic, kicking over a pile of newspapers in exasperation, and pauses. "Yeah? Well, good for them."

I slightly jump at the sound of his raspy voice so close to my own breath, not enough for him to notice me, thank God.

A faint voice argues in the background, but the skinny, tall man won't have it. "Fuck--just calm down, Louis. I'm coming now."

He bends down to pick up the papers, hanging up with the still-speaking boy on the other end.

His face, perfectly carved, along with his deep brown hair, looks expertly maintained compared to mine, and his eyes glint in the darkness.

I sink back lower into the corner away from him, his face nearly two feet away from mine.

After I slowly move over to give us a good distance apart, I draw a breath, slowly. 

And of course that's what does it.

"AHHHHH!"

He literally cries out in shock when he sees me, arms flailing as he falls backwards.

"Don't... Scream." I whisper faintly, and he simply stares at my dirty palm rested on his clean mouth.

"S-sorry... Didn't see--what happened to you?" The man says, trying to catch his breath and a glimpse of my clear blue eyes at the same time.

Up close, his voice is less creepy. More foreign.

It belongs not to a middle-aged man, more like a teenager's.

How could a teenager have so much authority as this? Thrashing into my home, my street, my alley?

"Nothing... I swear." I mutter, pulling away.

He studies my appearance, crouched behind the dumpster with him. There is barely enough light emitted from the streetlamps to cover into my territory, just the daylight that is nearly gone.

The single strip gives him the perfect amount to see me.

"We need to get help."

No. Not help.

Anything but help.

As he pulls out his cell phone, I reach out a trembling hand to stop him, which he stares at yet again.

Cuts and bruises cover it, along with blood from a ragged fingernail, and he winces.

"I don't need help. I'm fine." I plead desperately, and he gives me an odd stare. His expression gives off concern, worry, and confusion as he turns the dreaded object on again and I have to shield my eyes.

"Well, I can't just leave you like this!"

He raises his voice, and I recoil. My face contorts into a shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth weak.

"Go a-ahead. Leave."

"I can't." He shakes his head, looking me in the eye despite all the flaws surrounding them. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

"A-An hour away." I choke, instantly clamping my mouth shut. Why am I telling him this?

He glances around frantically as my mind goes into overdrive.

You can't let him go for help. They'll know...

"Just.. Leave. I'm fine." I manage, forcing a smile.

"You're not okay, look at you!" He almost yells, breaking out into a cry. "I'd be a terrible person if I left you here like this."

"No, you wouldn't."

Who would ever know?

"No," he repeats, clutching his phone again. "I-I need to-"

The teenager gulps, tugging at his hair, and eventually decides to stand up.

"Come back with me, at least." He says at last, offering me a clean hand to help me.

I decline, standing up slowly at my own free will, and discover how tall this stranger really is.

He is at least ten inches taller than me, give or take some.

His height scares me.

"I'll have someone pick us up." He declares, tapping the screen twice and pressing it to his ear.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. You can't make me." I tell him sharply, and he looks up, shocked.

"You're right. I can't." He sighs, defeated. "But... Why won't you?"

Oh, because this town has a picture of me engraved in a tombstone within the graveyard, date of birth and time of death included?

Nothing too gory.

"I-I can't tell you." I whisper, escaping his grasp and dashing down the dark and empty street.