Runaways »»L.H.««

Runaways

I hold my head as I lift up. The crook in my neck hurts from laying like this for the second night. I look at the cheap watch that I brought with me, it's 2:30am. I look up to see few people in the substation. I sigh.

"You're doing it wrong." A thick accent captures my attention.

I turn to see a blonde, sitting at the bottom of my feet.

He wears black shoes, black pants,a navy blue shirt, a heavy jacket, and a backpack on his shoulder. He fittles with a cigarette between his finger, then puts it in his mouth and looks at me.

"I'm sorry?" I ask quietly, moving my red hair from my face.

"I said," He inhaled the smoke of the deadly stick, then blows out. "You're doing it wrong."

I look at my surroundings: A quilt that I decided could be folded up for a pillow, and a suit case by my side, filled with my belongings.

I look towards the stranger, waiting for him to tell me exactly what I was doing wrong.

He points to the suit case, "You're supposed to lay on the suit case so no body takes it, and you use the quilt to keep warm."

I nod awkwardly, "Oh."

Who is this stranger?

"Oh yeah, one other thing, when you run away, you're supposed to leave the city."

I feel my stomach drop and my heart beat pounding. My eyes widen. I scoot back away further from him.

"How do you know that I ran away and live in this city?" I ask timidly.

He sighs before putting his smoke stick into his mouth and pulling out a folded paper of his jacket. He hands it to me.

It's a flyer, it has my picture, name, and foster parents name on it and a bunch of other information.

I stand. "I'm not going to cooperate with you, I'm not going to do anything you want, I'll just run away again, so don't even try to make me go get in your car to take me home or something!"

He chuckles. "I wish I had a car... but I don't, nor do I have the motivation to play hero." He blows smoke from his lips, the grey mist flies in the air, and to the stars."But I do feel like role playing, and today, I'm playing mentore, or host, what ever you may want to call it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, stepping backward when he stands.

"It means, I'm going to make you a fair go." He clears his throat, "You can tell me to rack off, and I'll be on my way, but remember, the fact that you have not the slightest clue of what you're doing, people will recognize the girl in the photo there, and furphy's will quickly spread."

"Or?" I ask, partly understanding what's going on.

He smirks. "Or, you could come with me on the next train and I'll show you what it's really like out here, what it's like to really do this."

"And by 'really do this' you mean?..."

"Be a runaway of course!"

I blink a few times. I let out a sigh. "How do I know you're not trying to take me back to my foster parents, or you're not going to rape me or something?"

"Well, I guess you're right. This could come a guster, but this could also come good." He explains. "You see, I'm hot, and I know I am,"

He is, he so is! But cocky much?

"So when it comes to raping there is no need for that, and if I'm taking you to your fosters, you're going to end up there either way, yeah?"

I cross my arms. I don't even know this guy, why does he have anything to offer me?

A train loudly rides by and screeches as it stops.

"Come on, give it a go." He encourages, "I have heaps of good oil!"

I scan him. He's a good looking guy who clearly gets what he wants, why would he want me?

"No." I answer.

"Alright then." He nods. "Very well. Thanks for letting me waist my time. Have a good one."

He turns and starts to walk off with the back pack clung to his shoulder. He walks in big steps and was just about to make it to the doors of the train.

What if I just turned something really good down? Who doesn't want to learn the strings of life from a super attractive guy?

"Hey!" I call out, "wait up!"