You know what she really hates about all this? Besides the obvious stuff like spending most nights on the street, never getting a decent meal, and owing money to people who'll probably kill her before she can pay it off.
"It's being a goddamn statistic." She shoves the last bite of hamburger into her mouth and crumples the yellow wrapper in her hand, and the man standing in front of her nods and scribbles something down on his clipboard.
This guy's been talking to her on and off for a couple weeks now, and he's always smiling down at her and taking notes, making her feel like someone's specimen. She figures he must be some journalist writing a piece about the plight of her kind or else he's trying to recruit her to some Young Fuck-ups for Jesus program. It kind of pisses her off, but he always buys her something to eat first, so she stays and answers his stupid questions. It's not like it's some big commitment.
The pen stills, and he looks up and prompts her with a, "Why is that?"
She scoffs and gives a lazy shrug. "Take a look around. I'm just one of a million stupid girls who managed to screw up this badly." She gestures widely and follows her own directions, scanning the streets dotted with strangers. "I can tell you one thing, this isn't what I had planned for me." Her gaze falls on another girl across the street, a little younger, a little less jaded. Her voice drops to finish, "I was going to be amazing."
The man is silent, staring at her for several moments. "Isn't there anyone who could help you?" he finally asks in a quiet voice.
She lets out a short laugh. "If you're talking about family, they disowned me ages ago. They'd probably never even realize it if I died out here."
"Surely there's someone to miss you."
She shrugs and wraps her arms around herself, looking off to the side again. "I have been thinking of leaving town. A couple people might notice, I guess. Eventually. They'd probably just figure I OD'd or something, though. That's usually what happens when people disappear."
This really interests her interrogator, who begins writing very quickly in a way that irritates her. She lifts her chin to try and see the paper, but his arm is blocking her view. When he's done, he looks up with a friendly smile and says, "I know this will sound suspicious, so feel free to ignore me and walk away. There's someone I'd like you to speak with. An offer I'd like you to consider. It may be able to help with your…troubles."
Now it definitely sounds like some religious cult. She knows that shouldn't really be encouraging, but something inside her wants to agree to this. She knows this guy, basically. He's nice enough, maybe a little intrusive, and she's walked into much shadier situations. And maybe it's just a soup kitchen and a bed for the night, but that would be worth listening to somebody preach at her for an hour. Maybe it's something else entirely. Maybe this guy really could help, has a friend with money to risk wagering on her vast potential. Why else would he bother with her so long?
She stands up. "What, would I have to convert or something?"
He chuckles. "You might call it that. But you're not obligated to anything. You'd just have to hear us out."
She nods slowly. What would she be if she left? Just the same statistic in a different town. All she needs is a chance to get back on her feet, and she'd be on her way up. "All right," she says. "Lead the way."
They'll give her that chance to be amazing.
She won't realize Number One is still a statistic.