Disclaimer: I don't own it. If I did, I would be rich.
He's sitting in a back alley, waiting for his mother. Its past dinner, and he's been sitting there all day, waiting for his mother, as she had instructed him to do last night. She was supposed to meet him at lunchtime, but she still hasn't arrived. It's not the first time she's been late, it's just her work. She tells him where to meet her the next day, and she runs off with some man, often not coming home until late the next day. He just assumes it's what all mommies do. But how can she explain what she does every night with a stranger to her nine year old son? She can't. Because she's a hooker and she beats herself up over it everyday. She used to have it all, now all she has is a little pink backpack with a few belongings in it and a son.
The wind's picking up and he really wishes he had something to cover himself with, but he doesn't, so his frail body shudders in the wind. His cold is getting worse and he coughs for what seems like several minutes. Finally he looks up and sees his mother standing there, watching him. Slowly, the frail child gets up and hugs his mother. He doesn't see her wince in pain from the impact of the bruises hidden under her clothing. "Hey, honey, sorry I'm late. Look, I brought a sandwich and a blanket." She had stolen both from last night's costumer's house. Her greasy blonde hair blows in the cold wind as she wraps the blanket around her only son. He's extremely pale and is at least twenty pounds underweight. She often doesn't sleep because she's too worried if he's going to make it through the night.
Several hours later, a man walks out of his apartment and onto the streets of New York. Its quite chilly out, it usually is in November. He's out for his nightly walk, a technique his psychologist taught him to help him forget her. After eight years of staying in his apartment, his parents wasting all their retirement money on him, and his son staying back from university for him, he's getting out. Every night he walks past all sorts of different people, showing him that the world isn't just him and her, its all sorts of people, living all sorts of lives. From the homeless to the millionaires, everyone makes mistakes, he just made one that took away his love and child.
As he walks past, he sees a woman. She's got a small child next to her, a very sick child, and blonde hair. He can't see her face from where he's standing, but she looks very familiar. Almost too familiar. He walks around to the other side of her and almost lets out a gasp. No, it can't be, how did she end up like this? The child's staggered breathing sounds worrying, he should go to the hospital. The man takes a deep breathe and does what any good friend would do, he wakes her up.
Her blue eyes turn towards him, this man looks very familiar to her, slightly paler and skinnier, but none the less, familiar. Suddenly his name pops into her mind, can this seriously be him? What's he doing here? He looks at her and says only two words.
"Hey Pheebs"
She only stares at him. He even remembers her name! But why is he talking to her? Shouldn't he be mad at her for ten years ago? Finally she replies.
"Hey…Ross"
"Come on, we're going"
His voice shows concern, and she softly speaks.
"Where?"
"My place."
"Why?"
"Because you're my friend and I'm not going to let you stay out here in the freezing cold! Its not right and you deserve much better! How would you react if you saw one of your friends in your condition? Wouldn't you help them?"
He's yelling now. Why does she always have to be so stubborn?
"I'm fine Ross, really I am. I don't need help, I've survived like this for ten years, and I can survive like this for ten more."
"Maybe you can, but will he? He looks like he won't even make it through the hour! If you're not going to do this for you, then will you at least for your child?"
He points towards the child, still sleeping despite the arguing going on around him. Phoebe thinks, he's right, she knows her son won't make it for much longer, she doesn't he'll make it to his tenth birthday. Maybe she should go with Ross.
"How do you know he's my child?"
"He looks like you."
"Well I think he looks like his father"
For some reason they both laugh.
"So are you coming?"
"I guess so."
He helps her up, as she is still sitting on the pavement, she has her son in one hand, and her backpack in the other.
"Do you want me to carry the backpack?"
"Sure"
They walk in silence until Phoebe decides to speak.
"hey Ross?
"ya?"
"thanks"
Okay, so what do you think? Please review! I really like ideas on how to improve my writing, so if you have a suggestion, do tell!