Someone Should Call Stop, but....

Someone Should Call Stop, but…

Her black curls were falling in her eyes as she ran in the rain to get away from the voice shouting from a second story window. Her hazel eyes were holding back tears that were just on the bridge of falling over the brink of no return.

Five blocks away sitting on the stoop of 350 5th avenue, she didn’t know that there was someone who could help her; no she didn’t think anyone could help her. She walked right past the man in black, running her fingers through her hair her beanie falls to the New York street side, which was practically flooding right now, right in front of a certain man in black. 

She keeps walking trying to get the yelling voices out of her head, what she needed was to get out of this darned city. The lights burned her eyes and she ached to be back in the home town that she swore she would never return to. The cars drove in straight lines, cutting through the lakes of water accumulating around them, spraying the dark liquid onto everyone who would dare walk in this weather. When she reaches a small run down building in China town she can’t walk anymore. She sits at the bench just barely covered by a canapé that has long since been breaking and ripping, it’s already bleached white from years in the sun and now it’s letting a fair amount of the rain in but keeping some out, so she stays burying her head in her knees.

Her curls have gone slack and the strands sit shock straight and cling to her head. The once light blue skinny jeans are now almost black from the rain and dirt and oil that’s been splashed on them, her black boots are untied half way down and the zipper on the left one is broken, her shirt is clinging to her thin form. She holds her black jacket to her for what little warmth it’ll provide.

Slowly the lights go out on Little China and she is left in only the light of the street lamp. Lying down on the bench she tries to fall asleep, a nice endless sleep…that would be good.

He comes strutting down the street his black full length coat pulled tight around him, the rain has since stopped and the puddles move out of the way and the shadows cloud around him. His footsteps are muffled against the cement as he approaches the girl. A small part of the bench is left empty beside her feet; he takes the space beside them and softly hums a lullaby. He places one hand upon her foot and closes his eyes, when he opens them they are in a small dark apartment with a bed dresser, kitchen, and small dinning table.

**

Waking up to the smell of eggs, bacon and brown sugar pop tarts isn’t what I had expected, honestly I expected screaming. I expected people saying how lazy I was, how I needed to do better or I would fail at life and die alone, that’s what I expected. I didn’t think I would ever wake up in a place I didn’t know, that smelled amazing, and had an extremely handsome man doing the cooking… This is just crazy.

I sit up and watch as he dances slightly, with his back turned to me, to music I don’t hear while making food that makes my stomach yell and ache begging to have some of it.

I shake my head and slowly the night before comes drudging back to the surface, but the last thing I remember was falling asleep on a bench in China Town, not here!

I stand up and the floor boards thankfully don’t creak. I tip toe out of the one room apartment and towards the tall black door.

“What, aren’t you staying for breakfast?” A deep dark voice coos from behind me.

I stiffen and lunge at the door ahead of me pulling at the doorknob trying to pull it open but it won’t budge. The voice laughs softly from the kitchen area; I put my back against the door and look at the area in reaching distance of me. Sitting on top of the dark dresser is a sharp letter opener; I hold it out in front of me and look at him shaking.