Then streets looked pretty much the same. She remembered walking through the town with that bitch. It was strange to be able to do things of her own steam, to not have the woman who had held her with an iron grip for so many years, controlling her. She stepped out into the road, from the side alley and looked up and down.
There were plenty of people around, some parents, some couples. There was an old man across the street, sitting cross legged on the floor, playing a manderin. The girl cocked her head to one side and focused on listening to his music. It was a strange song, more of a lulluby. It was undoubtebly his own creation. As she watched, he turned his head and looked at her. She smiled and he did the same, then he looked away. She felt her breath catch. She felt her heart strings tug as she watched the old man, who had nothing, smiling up at the people who walked past him. He never said a word, never asked for any money. He just sat there, playing.
Walking forwards, she saw that, in his open mandarin case, there were a few small coins. Nothing of significance. He looked up at her with heavy eyes that sparkled. She rooted in her pockets, knowing she had nothing to give.
"I'm sorry...I don't have anything!" She said, her voice low and guilty. The man went on smiling and looking at her. He nodded, slowly.
"I know!" He said, with a grin. She looked down at her hand and turned to walk away, "You are a good person!" She heard him say, and she turned to look at him.
"Thats a matter of opinion..." She began, but he interrupted.
"I can see, in your eyes. You are a good person and whatever you are searching for, you will find it!" He said, slowly, nodding as he spoke, and the girl looked away, at the floor, her expression curious.
"Thank you..." She said, unsurely turning, once more, to walk away. This time, as she began to walk, she heard the man start playing his instrument once again. He was playing a slow, mornfiul song this time, which contrasted harshly to what he had just told her. She contemplated the man as she wallked through the town, gaining looks from people she passed. She realised it was probably because of the way she was dressed. She could see teenage girls of about her age walking around in denim shorts, short dresses or skirts, belly tops. She herself was wearing long, combat trousers with rough, ruined military boots and a white vest-top. She had a jacket over her clothes that she had taken from her captor. It matched the trousers.
As she walked, she peered randomly into shops. She knew where she had to go. She knew everything about the place for godssake. She was putting it off. She had to hurt the people that had hurt her. She would force herself to do it, she didn't have a choice. It had been drummed into her. This was what she had to do.
She stepped out of the way of three girls walking past her. They were all three blond, tanned and taller than her. As she stepped out of their way, the girl closest to her went out of her way to shoulder barge her.
"Do you mind!" She said, and the girl looked at her.
"Yeah, actually, I do!" She said, then her eyes travelled down her outfit and her eyebrows dissappeared beneath her fringe, "Whats with the outfit?"
"Whats with the orange face!" The girl said, and the taller girl's mouth fell open.
"You are so gonna pay for that!" She said, pulling back her fist.
The girl ducked and grabbed the fist that shot towards her, grabbing and crushing it with her hand. She pushed down on the girls shoulder, making her cry out in pain. Her friends just watched, their mouths handing open.
"Alright, now!" A voice said, and she felt her shoulders being pulled. A hand reached out and pried her hand away from the girls wrist pinning them behind her back.
"Whats your name?" The police officer asked, cuffing her hands behind her back.
"Alex...Green!" She made up, wildly, glaring at the girl in froln of her, who was nursing he wrrist and her shoulder.
"Ok then, Alex, you're going to have to come back to the station with me!"
Alex sat in the car, her mind working, wildly, to try and figure a way out of it. She thouhght of the ARC, of how she could contact them. The officer handed her the opportunity.
"You get a phone call!" He said, uncuffing her and leading her to a phone that had been put up on the wall, "You only get one, so make the most of it!"
"Oh, I will!" She said, watching him walk away before typing the number wildly.