Chapter 8: Mini Cole Michael Harrington

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Wayne has always said being broke is an evident sign of poor planning.

I am broke.

But is it a result of poor planning?

The answer lies in my list. I have a few things I need to do and my father's brutal business sense keeps echoing at he back of my mind like a bloody broken record. First things first, I need a house. My baby is not coming home to this run down shelter. It is strange to share a common space with over a dozen people. I have always loved and preferred my own company and my personal space. I had a lot of that at the Manor. But having forgone certain luxuries to get by on my own, I had to learn to adjust. Adjusting is not easy.

I tried to focus on my list but at the corner of my eye I could no longer fail to notice the young girl seated on the floor looking slightly terrified. She has been there all night and I havwn't slept as well as I had hoped because I kept wondering whether to help her or ignore her. I have been leaning towards ignoring her.

She came in last night and chose to sleep on a rag on the floor. She chose the spot next to my bed and I'm not sure why. There were many other spots.

She looks younger than I am. I would probably think she is sixteen at most. Whether it us my maternal instincts or basic empathy that moves me, I called out to her and gestured her to come over. She seemed a little scared at first so I smiled to make myself more approachable.

The shelter isn't that large a place. Whoever founded it must have had good intentions obviously but it is really cramped. People who don't have beds sleep on the floor and they don't seem to mind. I guess the important thing is having a roof over your head. Looking at life from the 'daughter' of a billionaire's point of view never really allowed me to see the other side of the coin which was heavily endowed with destitution. I am living it now thanks to taking up a new role of being 'Lyn', the nineteen year old pregnant homeless girl. Life is harder on this side of the coin. The struggle is real, the anxiety heavy not knowing when the next meal will come or when you will literally sleep under a bridge. It has made me realize that I have been taking every pleasure life offered for granted. I don't want to be that girl anymore.

"I don't bite." I assured the timid girl when she finally came over. I patted the empty spot at the foot of my bed. She sat there her hands clasped together. Her clothes are old and dirty. I have a few of my clothes from back home and I am tempted to share. We are destitute but surely the girl could enjoy a designer sweater or something. "My name is Lyn. What's your name?"

It should be noted that I am the youngest in my 'family'. With two older 'brothers' I have never known what it means to be responsible for anyone but myself. It is part of the reason why being a mother scares me to hell and back. Even this girl seemingly scares me as I try my luck at being an older sister.

"Melanie but everyone calls me Mel." Her brown eyes flickered when she spoke.

I can already tell she is probably more trusting and optimistic than I am.

"You don't have a bed yet."

"They are out of beds. I have to wait a few days."

"You don't have to. We can share mine for the time being."

It is a single bed. We will have to squeeze but I can't stand seeing her lying alone on the cold floor.

"Are you sure?" She asked eyeing the small bed. "It's kind of small."

"Yes it is. Grab your things."

She flung her arms around me. I have to admit it feels great to help someone or care about someone other than myself.

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