Elizabeth kept running, even after she was a good distance from the Jacob's home. She didn't care. She didn't know why exactly she kept running, but she did. She felt bad about screaming at Mr. Jacobs', she felt bad about not wanting to go home right away, to run to the police station and have them take her home. She didn't know why she had suddenly changed her mind, and that made her scared.

" Hey, careful," some said as Elizabeth felt herself bump into someone. She looked up at the owner of the voice. The boy smiled warmly at her. " I see we meet again," Preacher smiled warmly at her.

" Preacher?" Elizabeth breathed, brushing her hair out of her face. She felt awful for the way she had treated him before.

" Glad ta see ya remembered my name," Preacher replied.

" I'm sorry about last time," Elizabeth blurted out, remembering about how the girls had said that Preacher was one of the sweetest boys in all of New York.

" Don't, don't worry about it," Preacher smiled warmly at her, almost making her forget about her problems. "Forgive and act; deal with each man according to all he does, since you know his heart," Preacher recited. "1 Kings 8:39." he smiled patting at his vest pocket which Elizabeth could see a small tattered brown book with the title: Holy Bible written on it.

" So I guess that's how you got your nickname then," Elizabeth asked as Preacher gave a nod.

" What seems to be bothering you?" Preacher asked. " I mean, you were running pretty fast from something, what?" Elizabeth stood there for a moment, stagnant, not sure what to say.

"Do I want to tell him?" she thought frantically as she gave a weak smile at Preacher, as if trying to tell him she wasn't sure she trusted him or not.

" Look, if ya really don't want to talk about it, I understand," he said, as if reading Elizabeth's mind.

" It's not that I don't' want to tell you," Elizabeth said as Preacher nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "It's just that-- Well, I'm scared." she blurted out, not believing that she had just confessed to a complete stranger how she was feeling.

" It's normal to feel scared--but I think the question is, what are you scared of?" Preacher replied.

" I'm-- I've wanted to go home for so long, since that first day you met me, and well, now I have a chance to, but I'm not sure if I want to, and that scares me." Elizabeth confessed, sitting down on the curb as Preacher slowly lowered himself next to her.

" Why don't you want to go home?" Preacher questioned, trying to get a better understanding of Elizabeth's situation so that he could maybe give her some good advice.

" Because. I'm don't want to be cooped up again, having my parents tell me how to live my life, how to act, what to wear...who to marry," she signed, placing her head in her hands as she felt herself begin to cry. She waited for Preacher to say something, but he didn't. The only thing he did was place his hand on her shoulder, allowing her to cry freely now with some comfort. "It's just that, I miss home, but I don't want to go back to the way things were. I mean, now that I've been on the street, seen things," Elizabeth sobbed, letting her mind speak freely now. " I hate my parents for making me think that all I need in life is money and a wealthy husband! I hate them for...for..." she sniffed, thinking hard about everything her parents had done. "For caring for me," she said half confused, sitting up and whipping her eyes. " Why do I hate them for caring for me?" she asked looking at Preacher.

" Maybe," Preacher breathed, taking a small moment to gather his thoughts. "Maybe it's because they care for you in a way that you've suddenly realized isn't that important. They believe that, and were raised to believe, that money, is the way to go. That money will always equal happiness, or buy happiness." Preacher answered. " So they raise you and care for you the way that they see the world. They bring you up to see their world. The same as my parents brought me up on the Lord's Word. Not everyone sees the world the way I do. But I was raised that way. Maybe, if I would haven't have been raised by them, say someone else, or even given different views by other people, I would think differently than I do today. You had a chance to get out and see the world from a different view, a view that your parents look down upon. Maybe it's just growing up, you know? Not a lot of people get a chance to see two sides that they were brought up on." Preacher looked at Elizabeth. "Am I making any sense, or am I just rambling?" he asked.

" No, I think maybe your right. I was too busy caught up in how my family lives, and their values that I actually never considered anyone else's views. Then I was thrown into this other life, one that I used to look down on, and my view has chanced," Elizabeth said looking at him. " I mean, I thought that all street people were trash, nothing but vile things that would fed off me. I think that's why I was so mean to you the first time. I didn't realize that someone lower than my status could be nice and, well, nice as you. I've learned a lot during my time, and I guess I'm just afraid that my parents wouldn't like the way I think and see the world now."

" Even if they don't like it, they'll still love you. My older brother, we never really talk about him, because he lived a different life. He got killed in a bar fight, because he was an alcoholic. Even though he drank, and didn't care about the Bible, or the Lord's Word, my parents still loved him." Preacher confused. Elizabeth smiled at him. She knew what he had just told her he had never told anyone else. She could see it in his eyes, which were full of pain, and relief for finally getting it off his chest.

" Thank you," Elizabeth whispered as stood up.

" Where you going?" Preacher asked.

" Medda's. I have some things I need to take care of," she smiled as Preacher nodded, standing up and watching her walk off into the crowd.