Johnny cursed at himself, grabbing his hand in pain. He had sliced it on that stupid piece of glass he was trying to pick up so that a bird or some other helpless animal wouldn't get cut. And for saving the birds, he got himself a fine slash across the palm. He hated blood; it came out thick and splattered across the snow-covered street like a sprinkler gone wild. He got up from his kneeling position in the middle of the street, and walked over to the sidewalk where he sat on the front step of a house, analyzing the wound a little more.
He wasn't more than 16 years old at the time. And the high winds were making his teeth chatter. His skin was too thin and his muscles were too weak to keep him warm. His parents...
Where were they?
Most likely, they would be drunk, renting a storage garage as a home. He had left them not too long before, and while he didn't miss them at all, he regretted it. At least home would have a band-aid or some Neosporin.
Nothing like ice cold winds and snow flying towards you at the speed of sound to make a cut sting more. Johnny dug his hand into the snow, hoping to numb it/wash off some of the blood. His face cringed when it only stung more, bringing his hand from under the snow as fast as possible. Now folding both arms against his chest, he tapped his knees together and watched the cars go speeding by.
A happy-looking man walked by. He was a middle aged, stepford-Dad-kinda-guy, and he stopped to take a look at Johnny. His face went from an expression of glee to one of confusion.
"Say, any reason you're sitting on the front step of my porch?" the man asked in an overly friendly tone.
Johnny got up from where he was sitting, and answered, "Trying to figure out what I'm going to do about this cut." He held up his hand for the guy to see.
The man grimaced and jumped back. "Augh-- how'd you do that?" He took another look at Johnny, and realized he was a 'minor'. "Wh.. where are your parents?"
Not looking up, Johnny replied, "I wish I knew. All over the place, sort of."
"They left you? You poor kid."
"No, the opposite. I was tired of them always yelling at me, I was tired of living in a garage... the likes. But I suppose living somewhere is better than living nowhere." Johnny made a hand motion with his good hand.
The man looked at him sympathetically. "Why don't you come inside? You can sit down for dinner with my wife and me, and at the very least, we can get a bandage on that thing.."
"Well, it's okay, but..." Johnny said uncomfortably, not wanting to do any of what the man had just mentioned. But the man dragged him into the house anyway, completely ignoring the words Johnny had just said.