My feet are tired. All I can think about is the blood in between my toes, and the fact that I'm stupid for not putting on shoes before I left. I'm at least glad that I was too lazy to change into pajamas before going to bed. Seeing a dark alley ahead, I decide to stop running for the night. Letting out a huge sigh, I slide down the wall just as my mother had onto the ground. Haunting images of blood and bruises flicker in my brain, and I shake my head to get them away. I decide early on that I'm not going to get much sleep, since I was scared to death of being found. I could just imagine one of my mom's party friends coming into our house, expecting to find my mom dressed in yet another skimpy dress. I could see her walking down the hall and seeing my mother, and screaming at the sight. I hoped my mother would have too bad of a hangover to remember what happened, and not realize what I had done. I don't even realize what I did. It was out of anger. I was angry that she was drunk, that she expected so much of me when I don't expect anything out of her. I hate her. She was never a mother to me and she never cared what I did. So why start now?
I wake up startled. Upon opening my eyes, I see a boy sitting right in front of me, picking at his pants.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask.
"Oh, you're awake. I was just walking, and I saw you here. It kind of worried me because I noticed you didn't have any shoes on, so I went and bought some from the Kmart up the street and put them on you... They seem to fit okay, are you doing alright?" Looking down at the small navy blue moccasins, I can't help but smile.
"Um yeah, they're okay. Can I ask what you're doing here?" He looked at me, just staring. His eyes were extrememly beautiful, a deep blue. His hair was dark brown, barely covering his eyebrows. Still, he was not answering me. He seemed to be coming up with some brilliant response to give me. I couldn't imagine what reasoning he'd have that was so difficult to explain, but I waited patiently.
"Well," he began, "it's a pretty long story."
"Ha," I snorted, "I know all about that. I've got no where to be obviously, so you could tell me."
"Alright. I work at Jane's Deli in Silver Springs. I've got the weekend off, so I decided to go to good 'ol Oroville to hang out with some friends. Unfortunately, my car ran out of gas, so I was walking up town to find a gas station. I walked past this alley, and saw you sitting here. You looked really uncomfortable and cold, and I felt bad. I only brought ten bucks with me up here to get gas, and I didn't have much money to buy you shoes. I decided to just buy you some from the clearance rack, so they'd last you long enough to get to wherever you were going. I didn't want to just leave the shoes here and some hobo come by and steal them, so I decided to wait until you woke up," he explained.
"Oh," I responded.
"Yeah, so what are you doing here?"
"Well," I began, "it is a lot longer story than yours was, and I'm not sure that I should explain it being that I just met you."
"It's not like I would tell anybody. I'm a very trustworthy person."
"Maybe so, but I don't think I can trust a person that easily. It could take a while, so don't count on it. Thanks for the shoes though," I told him.
"Sure, not a problem. Now I just need to get some gas and get my car up and running again. Where do you have to be?"
"Nowhere in specific."
"Want to come with?"
"Sure." I got up, and the events of the previous night popped up in my head. I felt dizzy thinking of it, and stumbled backwards into the wall. The boy caught my arm, pullling me towards him just as I hit the bricks.
"Woah there, you okay?" he asked me.
"Yeah, I just got dizzy or something I guess," I told him. We began walking, and it was only then that I felt the dried blood in between my toes. I was disgusted, and once again regretted my decision of not grabbing shoes.
We walked for what only felt like a few minutes, even though he informed me it was about two miles to the gas station. Once we got there, I told him I needed to use the restroom. He nodded, and I walked inside.
"Excuse me," I asked the cashier, "do you guys have a restroom in here?"
"Yes, the very back left corner," the lady replied. She looked at me as if I was roadkill that came back to life. I didn't feel like I looked that bad, but apparently I did. I opened the door to the women's bathroom and locked the door. Looking in the mirror, I could see why the lady stared at me as she had. There was dust all over my clothes, and some blood.
"God," I exclaimed, "I didn't think it was this bad." I can imagine now why this boy felt sorry for me. I started by rinsing off my feet. I set my feet in the sink one by one, squirting soap all over them. Once they were spotless, I put my shoes back on and started scrubbing the blood off of my calves and shirt. I finally looked decent, and left the restroom.
