CLOUDY \\\ B.E. imagines

trash

"Hello?"

You shine the flashlight outside, hands trembling slightly.

"I know someone's there. Come out now— or else. I have a gun on me."

You had been watching television in your small
single-floor home, when you heard a trash can fall over outside, as well as some bushes rustling.

You thought it was just a rat, or maybe a racoon, until a very human-sounding groan was heard shortly after.

So here you are, in just boxers and a bra, at 3 A.M., with a flashlight and your pocket pistol aimed at the bushes of your side yard.

"I'm this close to calling the cops on ya' or just shooting at every bush out here. Five seconds and you get no sympathy from me."

You're almost about to reach for your phone when a small voice is heard to your right, making you whip around to face it.

"Hello? I can't hear you, just come out here. I'll lower my gun."

Staying true to your word, you slip the gun in your waistband, backing up a few steps and raising your free hand up as if to surrender.

Slowly, a short figure comes out into the beam of your light, eyes squinting.

It's a kid?

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my yard?"

They have both of their arms up, eyes never meeting yours but instead staying glued to the ground.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am, I was only trying to find something to eat... you know, in your trash. I'll leave your property right now, just please don't call the cops on me. They already know me and I just can't handle another fine right now. I'll do anything. I only have my body to offer, but am willing to do anything at all, no judgement or resisting. I–"

"Woah, slow down. I'm not interested in that. Are you okay? You look too young to be doing that sort of stuff... how old are you?"

"I'm 17. How old are you?"

"I'm 19. Here, come in, it's chilly."

You reach your hand out to her, but she backs up towards the bushes, shaking her head harshly.

"N-no, it's okay."

"No, seriously— you're coming inside."

The more time you've had to look over the girl, the more you are starting to worry for her. Her face is so innocent, yet her eyes hold trauma and terror. Her face is a sickly pale, freckles splattered about her sunken cheeks and button nose. Her lips are chapped, and her eyes are a smoky blue that obviously should be brighter.

Hesitantly, the mystery girl accepts your offer, holding your hand gently. You take a mental note of how soft her skin is.

Slowly, you guide her to your door, soon stepping into the comfy space.

You guide her to where you previously were, the TV still broadcasting the game show you'd been watching.

"Can I get you anything? Like maybe food, or some drinks, or new clothes?"

She looks at you wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing.

"Are you... okay?"

She gulps, looking to the ground as her eyebrows furrow.

"Hey," you kneal down in front of her, meeting her eyes.

"Talk to me, love. What do you need?"

"... I don't know where to even begin."

"Well, you were looking for food, right? So you must be hungry then."

"Um... yeah? But, like, what are you doing? I-I don't know about this..."

You watch her look around the house, before looking back at you slowly.

"You can be honest... are you a trafficker?"

You look at her in confusion before it hits you.

She thinks I'm keeping her here just to traffic her for sex.

"Oh my god, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stress you out like that! Y-You're just young, and don't look too good physically. I just wanted to help you, no bullshit."

You can tell she's still unsure, glancing around the place nervously despite your words.

Before you can speak again, though, her eyes flutter, her body beginning to fall forward.

You gasp, getting on your feet to hold her up before gently laying her back against the couch.

"Hey, no, stay awake."

You tap her face softly, sighing in relief once those blue orbs connect with your green ones again.

"Jeez, you scared me! When's the last time you ate?"

You're now hovering over her, your left hand cupping her cheek while your right hand rests on her upper stomach to keep her from sitting up.

It's worrisome that her rib cage is easily felt underneath the small shirt she wears over her thin frame.

"Hm...don' know...I think um... last, last thursday..."

Your eyes widen, and you immediately head to your kitchen that sits behind the living room.

"Oh my— that was 11 days ago!"

You grab a PB&J sandwich from your fridge, along with a bottle of water, before heading back to the small girl.

"Here, sit up. What's your name?"

She groans, grabbing her head as you help her up.

"Billie."

"Nice to meet you, Billie. I'm Samantha, but Sam is just fine."

She smiles weakly, eyeing the food on the ottoman before her.

"I-Is that mine?"

"Yeah, all yours. Please, eat some."

She stares for a second longer, before covering her face with her hands, body shaking as she begins to cry.

"Hey, it's alright mama. No tears."

"Thank you, t-thank you so much. It's been so long since I've seen the inside of a house, let alone eat in one! I was booted f-from my foster home and the system won't help me, a-and I have no family left— and I was just so hungry, and I was so, so happy I passed your house when I saw your full trashcans. I haven't had my period in months and I can't control my bladder anymore from all the 'rough sessions' I did back when I used to do p-prostitution for cash... I know this is weird, but I love you, I love you so much and this is truly a gift from god. I know it is."

...

"...Billie, would you like to move in?"

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1035 words