GS Notes: To be warned. This chapter will either be butchered or amazing. There is no in between. Be honest, this was soooooo hard to write and I'd like some feedback on it. Positive if it applies.

Chapter 6

Hurting Innocents

I slipped my warm but wet feet back in my boots, the soles uncomfortably cold now. After a couple seconds, I took them out again to go barefoot. The floor was much smoother and softer then outside and my feet were hard from walking on it. I carried them with me though, no telling when this lady would try to throw me out and when she did I wanted them with me.

As soon as I opened the door, the dusty, full air it me with a wonderful scent. I sniffed and my mouth watered. I stood for a minute, eyes closed, mouth watering as the unearthly aroma swirled around me. Almost unconsciously, my hands loosened and my boots fell with a thump on the floor. My feet edged closer to the stairs near the bathroom door. the smell was coming from the old wood staircase that wound sharply down into the old floor.

Unsure, I gripped the crafted iron handle and peered down into the dark hole. I placed a small, bare foot on the top step. I pulled back sharply as it creaked but when nothing dropped out of the ceiling on me, I placed it back on the step and my other foot followed. I stood uncertainly on the top step, hands gripping the railing as I waited tensely for something to happen. Nothing did. I moved down the first ten steps or so, until the ceiling was fully over my head and the only light was the one shining on the lowest steps. The scent was even stronger here.

I hurried down the rest but peered cautiously around the doorway. There was a large kitchen. It had a stone floor with old wood cupboards that reached from floor to ceiling. A door stood near the stairs looking misplaced with its un-peeled white paint and metal. I touched it but pulled away as it was very cold. The wall opened to another room but there wasn't a door and was set between the cupboards. At the far end of the room there was a black wood stove and beside that the wall gave way to a door I couldn't see from this angle. I put my foot on the cold stone floor.

Sister Helen was opening cupboards and pulling out stuff. There was another stove in the room by the cupboards. There were more cupboards around that one. It was amazing, it seemed like this place could hold everything! I hovered in the warm room feeling out of place. I shifted nervously as Sister Helen lifted the lid of a silver pot on the second stove and stirred. It was a good few minutes before she turned around and noticed me.

"Ah! There you are! Nice and clean now?" she asked brightly. Somehow I suspected she was doing it for my benefit but I didn't have a lot of people skills. I tugged at the bottom of my shirt as she hurried over and ushered me closer into the room off of the cupboard room. It was still all made of stone. Bright lights were strung around the low ceiling, wires were free and unclosed. It was very crude. It was so different.

There was a huge wood table. I was pushed into one of three chairs placed at one end of the long table. I fiddled with my shirt again as she hurried out, back into the kitchen. I could hear her behind me and my nerves were on edge as I looked around the cold and empty room. She came back in holding the pot with gloved hands. She set in down in the middle of the table across from me on a woven circle I hadn't noticed before. She took her hands off right away and flapped them in the air scowling as she muttered how the oven mitts weren't nearly as effective as the saleswoman told her.

"Here's some food," she said as he opened the lid of the pot. Steam poured out but I wasn't as interested with that was I was with the smell that followed. I lost all nervousness I had as soon as the smell hit my nose. My hollow stomach quivered expectantly and I suddenly felt painful cramps. I rose out of my seat, one hand raised to grab the delicious food waving out of it…

"Sit!" Sister Helen pushed me back down right before my hand entered the heat above the food. I fell back, dazed and feeling weak in my joints as I gazed at the pot. "I'm sorry, it's only oatmeal and I've been told everything else I make leaves something to be desired."

I barely heard her as she dipped a ladle into the pot and stirred, making more aromas come out. My eyes closed briefly in pain and bliss before I was started when she banged the ladle clean on the side of the pot and put the lid back on. She said to wait a minute and not to touch it. She left again. I looked at the pot, quickly weighing my pros and cons of disobeying her. Almost immedently I started to reach to take the lid off the pot again. Right before I touched it, she came back in holding two bowl and spoons. I snatched my hand away before she could see.

She put one of the bowls in front of me and handed me the spoon, which I held awkwardly as she lifted the lid again. She spooned a full thing into my bowl and hit my hands gently as I reach to eat it. I pulled back and scowled, not from the pain but from the fact that I hadn't gotten anything to eat yet. She waved one of the oven mitts over it until the steam dissipated. Then she stepped back.

"Go ahead, eat up," she smiled and sat at another chair. I didn't even hear the last bit of the sentence. I dropped the spoon and picked up the bowl. Using my clean fingers, I scooped the still-hot food directly from the bowl to my mouth. In a mere few seconds the bowl was clean and I was licking the last morsels off my fingers. I looked up to see Sister Helen, her spoon poised over her own bowl of oatmeal, eyes wide as she just looked at me. I paused, guiltily, the held out my bowl.

"Um, cin I hav' more?

That shook Sister Helen out of her shocked stupor. "Uh, okay, sure."

She spooned another helping into the bowl. This time she didn't get a chance to fan it before I was shoving it in. It was warmer then the last bowl but no more then I could handle. I got a third, then forth bowl when my stomach began to feel strange. It made strange rumbling sounds and I paused on my fifth helping and placed the food down too hold my stomach. Sister Helen had gone to get a loaf of bread and was sitting at the table cutting it with a large knife. She paused as I put the bowl down.

"That's enough for you," she said sternly and picked up the half-finished bowl to my protest. "Any more and you are going to be very sick! As it is you should go lay down for a while."

"But-" I began to protest.

"Just wait here and I'll show you to Father Maxwell's bed, you can get some rest. Now wait here so I can get you a cloth to clean up."

I sat there as she whisked the pot, bowl and spoon away, leaving me with only the loaf of bread and the knife she was cutting with. Before she could come back I grabbed the few piece of bread she had cut and shoved them in one of the pockets on my shorts. The knife I stuck along my side so the handle was clutched in my armpit. Sister Helen returned and hurried me out of the room before she noticed that something was missing.

We went back up the long winding staircase and down the dusty room with the couches to a new door I hadn't been in. She opened it to an L-shaped hallway lined with doors. She opened the second and last one on the left. Inside was a tired old bed with several blankets, the top one a knitted afghan. My jaw dropped as she pushed me towards it.

"I sleep 'ere?" I asked astonished.

"Until Father Maxwell comes back. Then we'll have to fine another place for you to sleep until the authorities can find you a home."

At that word, authorities, my brain froze, then whirled back to life at lightning speeds. Fortunately, Sister Helen wasn't looking at my face.

"Oh," I said casually. My heart beat wildly in panic. It was very rare I found myself backed into corners. Running and hiding almost never placed me near my pursuers. I had little practice in the ways of acting. Sister Helen noticed right away.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, innocently.

"Na!" I said falsely, pasting an unused grin on my face. It felt fake and plastic as my muscles stretched into ways I never used before. She didn't buy it.

"No, I'm sure something is wrong," she said thoughtfully and looked down at me. I fidgeted. "If you're worried about the authorities, don't. They are actually very nice. We called them yesterday to ask for a home for Solo and we got a lot of information. After you sleep I'll tell you more about it."

I wasn't reassured. Authorities meant police. Police meant stealing. I stole a lot so I had met police a lot. They weren't very nice. I nodded for Sister Helen though, the strained smile still on my face. She looked at me for another minute before blinking and moving towards the closet.

"I can get you something more comfortable to wear," she asked, hopeful to be helpful. I had food and a knife. I wanted to leave, now before the police came to take me away. But it always helped to have extra clothes. I nodded and she hurried away. As soon as she left, my stomach gave a few gurgling noises.

I didn't feel hungry but I pull out the bread I had taken. I took a huge mouthful and swallowed. It didn't help. My food flipped around in my stomach and I felt sick. I didn't wan to throw up on the floor though. Not only would the food go to waste but that might make that woman angry. Maybe I was still hungry.

I pulled out one of the crumpled pieces of bread I had swiped. With a nervous glance, I stuffed it in my mouth.

She returned with a bundle of clothes in her arms. "These should be all right for you to—what are you eating?"

I swallowed the half-chewed food quickly and it lodged in my throats. A choking cough came from me but I gamely force the rest of the food down and returned her glare. "Nuthin'."

"I'm sure. I thought I told you no more food right now," she dropped the clothes on the bed and held out a hand expectantly. "Give me the rest."

"Whadda talkin' about?" I growled, the words coming out harshly. "I dun have any more."

"Yes, you do. And the worst thing you can do is lie about it. Now, hand it over!"

"I tol'ya I dun have any!" I yelled back, forcing panic down. My eyes searched for an escape and landed at the door behind her. She must have seen my face light up. I looked at determined eyes.

"Trying to escape? What, you don't like help from others?" she took a step forward and I took one back. "Give me the food and we can just forget this."

Seeing her eyes change from forceful to pleading, I made my decision. I tried to duck to the side, intent on leaving. In instinct, her slender hand flashed out to grab my arm. Reacting before my brain caught up, I lashed out. With the knife in my hand.

I was just as shocked as she was when my punch didn't roll. It stuck. I froze just for an instant, enough time for her pretty, so blue eyes to lock on to mine. They were filled with pain, shock and…fear. That made me let go and jump back.

She hissed and pulled the knife out of her side, using her hand to hold the place where it had been. All I could see was the blood on the knife, the blood seeping through her fingers and the blood on my hands.

My brain shut down after that. Without thinking, I dove under the bed, huddling at the back with my knees curled up to my chest. I buried my face in to my knees, holding myself in a trembling hug.

No one had ever been afraid of me. Not my mom, dad or the other people on the streets. I looked at my hands, stained with the innocent blood of the nun.

If making people afraid of you meant doing that again, count me out.

I'd rather be terrified then terrify.