Agent 13 (New Draft In Progress!)

Prologue

Prologue

Sirens ring loudly through my ears as I sink closer into the cold, metal wall of the building behind me.

"Dammit." I whisper-shout as my finger gets cut on the side on the trash can next to me.

Tonight I chose this spot to sleep. It is secluded and no one is around from as far as I can tell.

My head leans against the building as I run my finger along my tattered jeans, worn and ripped. I roll my eyes at myself and sigh, my cheeks puffing out like a blow fish.

I close my eyes momentarily, feeling my lashes brush right below my eyes and the cool freeze nip my cheeks

Images flash in my insomniatic mind. Gasping, I open my eyes and wrap my arms around myself.

No.

I need to stop. I can't keep doing this to myself.

If I would have just not looked back and ran or maybe not left at all, I would have been fine.

Not like..

This.

God, when did my life become such a mess?

I went from living with a loving mother and father, to living with my mother, then to losing something so precious to me, and now this.

Living by a dumpster.

Tears sting the back of my eyes as my lower lip wobbles in worry. Even the thought of trying to get myself out of this mess brings unwanted emotions to the surface.

I guess because I know that won't happen. One can only hope though, right?

My head snaps to my right as I hear a crunch. I frantically scrape my dirty hands along the black asphalt, feeling for anything that I could use to defend myself.

Something sharp pokes my finger and I whip my gaze towards the unknown object.

A pocket knife.

I quickly switch the pocket knife open and stand up, my weak and fatigued body leaning against the building for support.

Now, I am not going to call out like those white chicks in horror movies. Off topic but it is so fucking racist that the African American characters are the smartest out of everyone in the movie, yet they are killed off first.

"I am not here to hurt you." a deep voice snaps me out of my wandering thoughts.

I swing my arm in the direction the voice came from and hold the pocket knife close to me. There is absolutely no way I am holding it out and giving the person a chance to grab it from my hand.

"Fuck off." I spit out, looking in the direction of the sound.

A shadowed figure starts to slowly walk towards me, hands up as the street light, lights up the back of their figure.

Fog lays thickly around in the air making it almost impossible for me to make out what this person looks like.

"Shh. I won't touch you. I am here to help you." the now distinguishable voice whispers as they approach me.

I run around the other side of the garbage can, putting a good amount of distance between the stranger and I.

His face is now visible from the angle he is standing at, the street light glowing on his face. The man sends me a soft smile that seems to relax me a bit.

"How do I know that you are not lying?" I clench my jaw and hold the blade with two hands, keeping it out of the strangers view.

The man chuckles. "Well, I guess you are just going to have to trust me, aren't you?"

"I don't have to do anything."

"Exactly." the stranger nods, sending me another smile. "Everything here happens on your own terms. I just want to help. I have helped a few other kids on the streets and I hate seeing someone so young out here in the cold."

I glance down at my clothing but snap my gaze up with I hear a footstep. A single footstep.

"Your clothes are all torn.." the guy mumbles.

My guard is let down as I notice the sincerity in the strangers eyes. He must have noticed because he proceeds to take a couple steps towards me.

"Can I at least buy you a meal? You must be starving and there is a diner down the road." the stranger pleads.

My nostrils flare for a moment as I consider the idea, my shoulders relaxing slightly as my naivety takes over.

"Will you hurt me?" I whisper.

Having lived out on the streets for so long, I know some people don't simply help you out of the good of their hearts.

It leads to..

Bad things.

Very bad things. Believe me.

"I promise." the man crosses his heart with his finger, truth evident in his brown eyes.

I stare at the older looking man, taking in his soft eyes and faint wrinkles.

"Okay." I whisper. "Okay. But if you try anything, I will carve your eyes out with a fork if I have to."

The man doesn't seem fazed by this, rather amused actually seeing as he laughs, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Now come on. Let's get something into that skinny body of yours."

Closing the pocket knife, I shove it in my boot discreetly before walking out from behind the dumpster.

And without realizing, I shook the devils hand a practically sold my soul to him.