What was it?
A toy, perhaps? A decoration? Possibly a tool of some sort?
Reaching out, I touched it with my index finger. When I didn't die, I picked it up and held it with both hands, brushing off a thick layer of dust.
Intriguing.
It was the size of maybe a baseball, blue and pink in a design not unlike oil on water. It was hollow and made of... glass?
Mysterious.
It felt heavy enough to not break if I dropped it, but I could vaguely see the outline of what looked like a black marble rolling around inside it.
I shook it. It rang out, like a crystal bell.
Beautiful.
Turning it over in my hands, I noticed there was a fine line, a crack in the otherwise flawless object. I traced it with my pinky, eyes widening when my nail detected a shallow crevace where the line was.
Breakable.
In shock, I dropped it, instantly regretting my actions.
But nothing happened.
The ball fell to the ground with a sickening crack, but it was as good as new.
Or so I thought.
Bending down, I picked it up and replaced it, back on the dusty table where it belonged.
I turned around and left it.
Alone.
I couldn't stop thinking about it. I still wasn't sure what it was. There were no tags in that antique store. No price, no explanation. None at all.
I had spotted it on that small wooden table, resting next to a heavily cobwebbed eagle statue.
I had looked around for someone, maybe a salesperson, to ask what it was. But it didin't seem like anyone was in the store.
As if as soon as I laid eyes on it, everyone just disappeared.
I pivoted and took another look at that dusty little shop, the one on the corner of the street, hiding in the shadow of the large building beside it.
It wasn't bustling, but there were a few people, tourists mostly, milling around aimlessly.
Hm. I wonder where they had gone.
My thoughts drifted back to the strange glass object as I resumed my walking.
It was all alone.
I didn't think anyone would have bothered with it, all dirty and hidden as it was. But I had wiped it clean, to an extent.
I probably would've bought it if I had money with me.
But I didn't.
So, can anyone tell me?
Go on, take a guess.
I felt rather silly, talking to thin air.
I wasn't even talking out loud; if anyone was there they wouldn't have heard me anyways.
Would they?
There I go again, talking to myself.
And I still am.
I wondered again... What was it?
Brushing back a lock of my brown hair, I thought on.
I wonder...
I stopped walking, just barely missing the wall on my left.
I should really stop spacing out.
But there wasn't time to think about that.
I saw a boy, a bit older than me, staring.
Hm?
Someone has grabbed my arm.
I'm pulled around the corner I just passed and into an alleyway.
I didn't like this one bit.
The person that took me there was male, very muscular. Not ugly, but not particularily handsome either. He was bald with a trace of stubble around his jaw. A jagged scar ran down the left side of his face.
I did not like being cornered by him.
"Listen here girly," he hissed. Spittle flew from his mouth, a few drops landing on my face.
Disgusting.
I wanted to wipe it off. But I was paralyzed. I couldn't do anything.
Nothing at all.
The man continued. "I see you have no purse." His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't had a drink in a long time. "But you have pockets. Cough it up."
I knew exactly what he wanted.
Money.
But I had none.
If I did, I would've spent it on that strange thing I saw earlier.
But he seemed very impatient. I might as well.
Slowly, I slipped my hands into my dress pockets.
The left one is empty. I pulled it inside out and let my arm go limp.
The right one had an old, crumpled reciept for something I bought and a pencil stub.
He growls. Jabbing his callused finger at my neck, not my face, he barked at me, spittle once again flying everywhere. "What? Nothing? I woulda thought you had more with that fancy dress of yours!"
Fancy? It was a rather simple sundress. I believe he thought 'fancy' meant 'clean'.
He smiled, and I resisted the urge to cringe. "I guess I'll just take that."
I blinked in confusion. Take what? There was nothing to take.
I was deadly wrong.
He grabbed at the ends of my dress and yanked upwards.
The dress came off without much resistance and I stood there in my underclothes, shocked out of my mind.
Grinning wider, he grasped my right wrist and pulled me close enough so I could hear him whisper.
"You are very pretty, girly."
I felt sick.
His hand skimmed along my back and I shuddered, tears forming in my eyes.
I let out a rather loud sob and he laughed.
I felt worse. But I, somehow, found my voice.
I screamed. A loud and shrill as my voice could go, I screamed with everything had. Which wasn't much.
The man slapped me and threw me against the wall. My head connected with the brick and I slid down, disoriented. Something wet trickled down my neck, and I knew I was bleeding.
But my scream had been enough.
A boy, that boy from earlier, had heard me, and so had a number of others.
They crowded around the alleyway's entrance and saw a girl collapsing against a brick wall and a large man with her dress yelling at her.
It was that time I was rescued.
Several police officers in uniforms stormed the place, surrounding the man. The boy came and helped me up, wrapping me in a warm jacket.
His face was blurred with my tears, but I could see he had beautiful eyes.
And they were lonely.