I'm running. I've run from everything since I was twelve, and I continue to run. No place anywhere is ever welcoming, so I walk the streets alone. The only name I have ever known of is Amaya, so I stick with it. For five years I have lived this lifestyle, and I see it never changing. I will never trust anybody, and nobody will ever trust me.
I practically remember nothing from my childhood, other than violence, and not that I would want to remember anything. I was forced to grow up when I began living on the streets which caused me to push away the thoughts of the past, and focus on the future. It was always easy to do that. Over the first few months of living alone, I matured enough to find ways to steal what I could from the shops in the town I was in. Once my face was well known in the area, I moved to the next city and began another cycle of theft. I've been doing it since I was twelve, up until now, when I'm seventeen.
I set myself down on an isolated park bench, and begin to unpack my backpack for the night. As I unfold my filthy blanket, I hear a rustling noise somewhere in the foliage behind me.
"It's just a squirrel." I tell myself as I bring out my pillow and set it behind me.
I lean my head back and gaze at the stars, wishing I could escape from this lifestyle of constant running. I have grown tired of having to steal for everything I need, and would much rather find better living conditions. When I was younger, I would dream of finding a warm family with beautiful parents that would love me forever. I secretly still do dream of it, but with less hope of it ever happening.
I lay there for what seems eternity, until the rustling starts again. I freeze, and cautiously listen as the noise increases, gradually getting closer. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I automatically reach for my pocket knife hidden the sleeve of my backpack for situations like this. I keep my eyes glued to the rustling plants. My heart feels like it's going to explode from beating too fast.
Suddenly, a young man walks out of the foliage and looks directly at me. I hesitantly sit up, preparing for what may happen. My hands begin to cramp from my tight grip on the pocket knife, but I keep my grip steady. I study his face earnestly, looking for any crazed signs, but I don't find any. He runs his hands through his dark curls and walks over to me.
"Can I sit here? I can't seem to find any other available benches around here." the guy asks me.
Surprised, I look him up and down, in search of any weapons, and make my decision. I nod silently as I make room for him on the bench. By the looks of him, it seems he also lives on the streets. He lets out a sigh of relief as he reclines himself down on the far end of the bench
We sit there, silent as he gets comfortable. Over the years I have gotten used to sharing my park bench with strangers, but they've never been as attractive as this one. The community of people on the streets are often kind to others like them, so I rarely have to worry for my safety.
I decide to zone out, deep in unknown thought, until I am brought back to reality by the guy waving his hand in front of my face. I blush when I realise I was staring at him the entire time.
"I was just saying thanks for letting me sit here, It's usually hard to find one in this part of town," the guy says, "My name's Eric by the way,"
I sit there staring at his face. From this angle, the light cast from the streetlight falls perfectly on his black curls, which frame his face. His jaw has a chiseled line which is defined greatly by the light glow of his skin. His face is not common to find on the streets, merely because the pretty ones are usually taken care of. I am surprised by how great his beauty is.
He sits there, expectant for a name from me, but I give him nothing. Eric may be attractive, but I know better than to trust a total stranger. I have heard stories from other homeless about children getting kidnapped by strangers.
After several long awkward minutes, he breaks the silence.
"I know what you're thinking, I'm a total stranger that you know nothing about, and you don't want to risk getting hurt. I understand what you feel, and I just want you to know that you can trust me. I will not hurt you" Nathan reassures me. "I used to feel the same way about people I didn't know, but I soon learned that when you're at this point, getting hurt is nothing compared to other things."
His words cut deep into me, and I open up the walls a bit.
"Amaya." I respond."My name's Amaya."
"Names are a good start, but I would love to know more than your name, and more about your pretty face." He says.
I turn away as I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. I am always weak around compliments from others.
I turn back around to find him unwrapping a flattened sandwich out of a wrapper. He sees me eyeing the sandwich hungrily and breaks it in half. He hands me the larger half of the sandwich, and I snatch it up. I bite into it and taste the rich flavor of peanut butter mixed with the sweetness of honey. I scarf down the rest of the sandwich, and taste an odd type of powder in it, but I ignore it and finish the sandwich. I look up at him and find him watching me, without a single bite out of his sandwich.
"Are you not going to eat yours?" I ask. A sudden sharp pain shoots my right temple and my vision begins to swim.
I stare at him as the pain increases, and a slight grin spreads across his face. He pushes himself off of the bench and faces towards me. I wince at the pain shooting in my temple.
"I wouldn't dare eat one of these." Eric tells me as he holds up his sandwich. "You see, that weird powder you might have tasted was a nasty drug which causes the consumer to become temporarily paralyzed once consumed." He finishes with a smug look on his face.
Once I process this information through a brain filled with hazy thoughts, I try to squirm out of the drug's grasp, but with no success, I am unable to move. I watch silently as Eric advances towards me.
"You may black out as a side effect of the drug, but only for a few hours. If you even survive after it." Eric tells me, the last part barely audible. He crouches down next to where I lie, slowly reaches down to my hand, and uncoils my fingers from around the pocket knife.
"You won't be needing this right now will you" He jokingly asks. I stare at him with a glare laced with venom, and it just amuses him even more. "I take your silence as a yes."
With swift movements, he is suddenly on top of me, with his hands holding down my wrists, my pocketknife still gripped in his hands.
"This might hurt a little." he says as he runs the blade across the skin covering my wrists. I let out a scream as the cut begins to react to the broken skin. Blood begins to run down my arm and into a bowl cupped in his hands. While the bowl fills with my blood, he whispers something in a thick language I don't understand. The blood in the bowl thickens, and he the blood a little with his fingers. As he blood flow begins to flow slower, and he removes the bowl. With tears streaming down my face, I try to glare at him, but my vision begins to form into black spots
"And now to the other hand." he says as the moves around the bench.
The moment he begins to crouch down next to me, he is picked up by some unknown force, and rammed into a nearby tree.
"What the-" he is cut off as he is picked up again from the invisible force and thrown into the ground. I hear several loud cracks, and he just lays there motionless. I look around, trying to identify the invisible force. My vision suddenly begins to blacken, and I shut my eyes. The last thing I remember before blacking out is being picked up by a pair of sturdy arms, and being lifted away.