At first, the sound was almost just my imagination, as I walked along the steady nights road, heading home from a long day at work. I had started to take the long way home after fighting with a lazy co-worker to blow off some steam, knowing that the town was lit and full of people in every corner, but I had stopped in the midst of waking. I know I heard it, I had to of. There was no way I could have made up a distinctive voice calling out for help. So I moved towards what I thought was a light voice.
He was laying down uncomfortably on the cardboard box, a red hand over his stomach to cover up what had to be a wound. The color of his eyes was draining as he stared at the sky, softly calling out for help, hoping someone would hear. The dark brown hair of his was sticking up in every direction and covered in a dried red substance that matched his hands and every other cut upon his body.
At first, I froze at the sight. I was surprised to see such a small person in my town. Although pocket people were not unheard of, my town was forbidden of having them, as it was seen expensive and not needed. We hadn't become accustomed to miniature people being sold at stores like pets.
But then I realized how badly injured the poor thing really was. His voice was very soft and groggy, continuously asking for someone to help him. The life was seemingly gone from his body as he laid helplessly on the box, waiting. Immediately I moved the box out from behind the garbage bin that was beside the small restaurant I worked for. The full body of the miniature person was before me and I sighed.
More bruises.
Biting my lip, I gently raise my pointer finger towards the person and nudge him. "Hey there," I whispered, worried he had some damage to him internally as well. His eyes maneuvered on to me and I cracked a small smile to reassure him. "Are you alright?"
His free hand grabs my finger, barely covering the tip with his palm. "Please, help me." The dark brown eyes of his met my own, swallowing me whole and drowning me in sorrow. I nodded to him and his breath caught in his throat. "I'm hurting."
My heart ached to hear him struggle. I didn't know what the situation was at all, nor why he was out here alone and in the cold, but I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life if I left the poor thing. "I'm going to see if I can pick you up, okay?"
He nodded, allowing me to attempt at picking him up without hurting him. But, I could see his eyes scrunching to the pain, so I stopped. "Oh god, you poor thing, I don't know what to do..." I trailed off, thinking of how much trouble I would be in if caught having a pocket person with me. But he was injured and leaving him wouldn't be wise.
I go to look around for something to help me, when I recognized the box he was laying on. It was an empty box I had thrown out just earlier today and was free to use, now. Taking the edges between my hands, I rip off the section he laid on and brought him closer to my eyes to see each wound. Most did not look deep, but who knows what was under that hand of his.
"Alright, I need to get you home now. It will be a little bit, just bear with me please," I inform the boy, glancing down at him with panic every few seconds. I was paranoid that we would get caught as there were so many people around me, but also that he may die on me at any moment. Not wanting either to happen, I pulled my glasses cleaning rag out from my purse and used it as a blanket.
Right. As if no one is going to find me carrying a random piece of cardboard with a glass cleaner suspicious.
Sighing heavily at my stressed thoughts, I quickly turned around from the direction I was heading and went the opposite way, which was quicker. I headed home with a heavy and worried heart, thinking of what to do with every step.
When I entered my apartment, I slapped on the lights anxiously and locked every bolt in place on the front door. I scurried into the bathroom for a first aid kit, trying to stable both my shaky hands and my racing heart. Gently setting him down on the sink rim, I scramble to find the first aid kit throughout my cabinet. I grabbed a small q-tip and antiseptic before turning back to him.
"This may hurt a little, but it will be okay," I whisper softly, trying not to freak him out in any way. Taking the q-tip, I lightly dunk it into the antiseptic before grazing it slightly over each wound. I took a deep breath at the sight to keep me from becoming upset, noticing I still had whatever it was that was underneath his hand.
Taking my pointer finger, I push away his hand that covered a wound upon his stomach. I attempted to have no reaction to it, but finally seeing what damage he had was hitting me hard. There was a ring engraved onto his stomach, and although it was not very deep, there was still plenty of blood on his ripped shirt and the open skin. I exhaled harshly, repeating my steps onto that wound as well before cutting a small piece of bandage wrap and taping it to his stomach.
I smiled at him in reassurance. "Everything is okay now, little one." I look at his dirty and rumbled clothes and shook my head. "We need to get you changed, okay?"
"Thank you, master," he says, struggling to sit himself up and give me a big smile.
Startled by the name, I start to choke a bit, having to pull back to cough a little without being too close to his small frame. "No need. Just call me Y/n. Let's get you some new clothes."
I picked him up slowly, being careful of his wounds and gently placed him into my palm. We walked into my closet in hopes that my barbie box was still at the bottom of all of my clothes. Lucky for us, I was able to easily slide the box from under my hanging clothes. Inside of it was full of miniature barbie outifts, ones my grandmother had made, along with other plastic doll toys.
"Look!" I pull out a dark red tee shirt that seemed to be his size, as well as some pants. "Try this on, yeah?" Handing him the clothes, I eyed the size to see if it was ok before moving my attention back to the box. He changed himself on my palm as I rummaged through all the toys and found silverware, a nice bed, and a tiny stuffed bear named Itty.
He taps my palm lightly. "It fits, miss." Awaiting my gaze, he sits expectantly with his dark brown eyes looking up at me. "Thank you very much."
I nodded. "It's all good." I stood up, leaving the closet to enter my bedroom once again. I placed him down onto the bed, my sheets almost engulfing him whole as he struggled to sit properly. "Now, tell me what happened."
His head drops, the hair I had combed earlier shading his eyes from my gaze. "My master...he got angry often. Many problems happened within his life, and I was a nuisance. Sometimes I just didn't do what I was told to, so I got hit."
Hearing this, I couldn't help but feel angry myself. To think that such a horrible being could even exist and do those things to an innocent living was beyond my imagination. My fist clenched around the bed sheets as my emotions were starting to get the best of me. "What happened to your stomach?"
Glancing at me for the second, the little person before me noticed the emotions in my eyes and flinched. Immediately he raised his arms above his head to cower away. "Please forgive me, master. I didn't mean to anger you."
My heart broke to see his reaction. Forcing myself to calm down, I took a deep breath. "Don't worry, little one. I won't hurt you. Just tell me what happened."
He nods slowly. "Well...he had been writing for hours that day. Work was very stressful to him, and I had done him wrong by messing a bit of it up. I slipped and knocked an ink pad for stamps onto his writing. As a warning, he pushed the end of his pen into my stomach."
I shook my head, trying not to get too upset and scare him again. But it was beginning to become more difficult the more he told his story. My heart was aching as I listened to his pain, knowing he felt guilty for things he shouldn't. By the end of his story, he was looking quite exhausted.
"Little one?" I call, watching his droopy eyes meet my own. "What's your name?"
"I don't have a name."
Frowning, I attempted to think of a name. But it wasn't long until I remembered the name my mother used to love. "I'll call you Wonpil. Sound good?"
His mouth forms into a rather large smile as he nods rapidly. "Yes, yes! I like that name very much." Wonpil's doe eyes squints slightly as he cocks his head to the side.
2018
