Jam.

Chapter I: Jam.

My name, that's easy. My age, again easy. Where I live, I can give you the exact street and which direction it faces. But ask me what I'm doing here, and that's another thing. Well, I guess I should start off by answering some of the things I mentioned first. My name is Joanna Annabeth Martinez, or Joan for short. Some of my friends call me jam, but mostly, I stick to Joan. I am exactly 6432 days old, or 142 days from being 18. I live on East Wolbrook Street and the front of my house faces west. Or rather, the house used to face west. There is no more house. Instead, I sleep with the stars, on the sidewalk 2 blocks away from that house. I have little left. I have no parents, no house, no real reason to be here anymore, so why, I must ask, am I?
I shall tell you a story of what happens in the next part of my life, starting with a month after the house burned down. Here's how it happens.
So, as I said, it was a month after the house burned down, and I was on the sidewalk three blocks away, again, as I previously mentioned. It seemed like a normal day, walk to the school, walk home, quickly work on any homework I have, go to my job, earn as much money as I can, and go to my spot. A while after it got dark, I started to feel myself falling asleep, which wasn't entirely weird. But what had happened next was. A young man, probably a few years older than myself, sat next to me. He had something in his hands, but I couldn't see what. He had a weird presence to him, not exactly menacing, but not comforting either. He said nothing, and I scooted away a little, trying to be subtle about it, but he still noticed. Now, he was a large man, not fat, but built well, and tall. I, on the other hand, was not. I lacked in the physical strength portion of life, and excelled more in the flexibility and intelligence. I was small, 5'2.5 the last time I checked, and this man towered over me. I'm talking a good foot or so, even though I was on the ground I could tell. I scooted again, and he scooted closer, mumbling softly, "Thanks for making room."
I was not making room. I was about to stand and leave when he opened his palm to reveal bread crumbs. Well... Not exactly crumbs, but they were tiny little pieces of bread that could have been misinterpreted as mini croutons if you were the kind of person who didn't know the difference. He asked me, "Would you like one? I've seen you around a couple times, and I figured you're probably hungry."
Well, of course I was hungry. Who wouldn't be after an 18 hour day with little food. But I was hesitant about taking one. At least, I was until he popped one in his mouth. I assumed they were safe, and I slowly reached over and grabbed two, not wanting to be greedy. He was being so kind and sharing with me, but they were his. I slowly ate one, and watched him carefully, not saying a word.
Let's get this straight really quick. I am not mute. Or have any other 'disabilities' for that manner. I just prefer not to talk when I don't need to. It's better to take in information than to spew out nonsense. But thanks to this, I knew sign language, how to count to 9 in French, and quite a few words in Spanish. Not nearly enough to actually have a fluent conversation with someone, but enough to where I could probably understand the gist of what someone was saying. Anyways! Back to the man.
The man ate his too, and I felt myself quickly falling asleep. I thought nothing of it. The man's words were soft, but also thick like molasses. It comforted me in an odd way. I didn't think it had anything to do with the bread, though it probably was. I closed my eyes for a second, only to find myself being carried when I opened them again. The hands were soft but strong. I started to panic. Who was this. I turned just enough to see the face of the man from before and I felt my breath catch.
What do I do! I started to squirm in his grasp, but the only thing he did was hold tighter. I flailed my arms in fear and panic, ending up nearly whacking him upside the face. I tried to wiggle away, but he kept his grip. I was going to be raped. I knew it. I was going to be murdered or raped or some other unspeakable thing and nobody would notice. I was underage but I hadn't gone to the orphanage. Why hadn't I done that! I felt warmth start to blur my vision, and slip down my cheeks. Great. Now I was crying. I felt myself let out a scream as I kicked and swung my arms, trying to get free. He stuck me in a car, or van, rather, and I tried to get a look at the license plate, but my eyes kept on being blurred too much for that to work.
I heard him say 7 words before I felt a painful pinch in my arm and my eyes closed.
"It's okay, Joan. It'll all be okay."
My body went limp as I felt the car lurch forward and I drifted away into a slumber.

(A/n! Hallo everyone! This is my first book I am actually publishing here and I really hope y'all like it! I'm excited to see how y'all respond! I have school, so I'll be doing that and homework and stuff, but I'll also try to update this as often as I can! Have a wonderous day! See y'all later!)