Steal His Innocence - Completed

Chapter 39: Before We Knew Our Names

ASHER POV

I was nine the first time I saw her.

I didn't know her name.

I didn't need to.

This is a small hospicio and this is my first time going here. Paint peeling. Swings slightly rusted. My father had just finished speaking to the head nun about a donation when I slipped away toward the playground, bored and restless.

That's when I heard the crying.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

The kind someone tries to swallow before anyone notices.

Three older kids surrounded her near the slide. She was small, messy ponytail, knees dusty, eyes red but furious.

"Wala kang magulang!" one of them laughed.

She didn't answer.

They pushed her.

She fell.

For a second, I thought she would stay down.

She didn't.

She stood up, wiped her face aggressively, and shoved the boy back harder than expected.

"eh ano naman!" she yelled, voice shaking but strong. "Kayo? Meron nga, hindi naman kayo tinuruan!"

Silence fell over the playground.

Even I froze.

The bullies muttered insults and eventually walked away, defeated not by force—but by her refusal to break.

She stayed there, breathing hard, fighting her tears like they were enemies.

I stepped out from behind the mango tree.

She noticed immediately. "Ano tinitingin mo?"

"You didn't stay down," I said quietly.

"Eh ano?" She sniffed. "Hindi ako umiiyak."

"I know."

She eyed my clothes. "Visitor ka."

I nodded.

She crossed her arms. "Tapos?"

I didn't know what to say. So instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small silver compass keychain my father had given me earlier that day.

"For you," I said.

She stared at it suspiciously. "Bakit?"

"So you don't get lost."

She frowned. "Hindi ako nawawala."

I shook my head slightly. "I mean... so you remember where you're going."

She looked at me longer this time.

Then she dug into her shorts pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic pink star keychain, one corner chipped.

"Sa'yo," she said firmly. "Para patas."

I took it carefully.

"It's broken," I murmured.

"Hindi," she replied. "May kulang lang."

From a distance, I saw the nun watching us. Beside her stood a couple—well-dressed, quiet, observing her the way people observe miracles they're scared to touch.

"Halika na," the nun called gently.

The girl glanced at me. "Babalik ka?"

"I don't know," I admitted.