Runaway Part I

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

Summary: Rivetra Week 2016 Day 1 Prompt

Amber eyes darted around nervously, hands almost white from gripping the straps of her backpack so hard. She tugged the hood of her jacket lower.

People glanced her way every now and then and every time they did, her breath caught up in her throat. Keeping her eyes low, Petra kept moving. The buildings around her were rundown and covered in graffiti, and the streets were littered with trash. Dirty, miserable looking people talked in low tones, some sleeping on pieces of cardboard. Scantily clad women moved in packs, towering over her in their massive heels. Petra was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

Then she remembered why she was in such a dangerous part of the city at such an hour. Less dangerous than staying at that hellhole. The surge of anger gave her courage.

She continued to wander, looking for a good place to sleep. Eventually, the weight of the heavy backpack was too much for her to continue. Her back ached deeply, her shoulders felt like lead, and her neck was stiff. You won't find cleaner or softer ground. She sat on the cold, hard concrete. To her right, a group of five was warming up from the fire in the metal trash can. A few feet to her left, an old woman snored under her ratty blanket.

Petra opened her backpack and dug around for her own soft blanket. Despite the warm layers and the blanket wrapped around her, using her backpack as a pillow, she could not fall asleep. The ground was uncomfortable but it was only part of the reason.

Terrible thoughts of people sneaking up on her while she lay asleep and vulnerable plagued her. But bodily exhaustion eventually overwhelmed her fears and she lost herself to sleep.

When she woke up in the morning, her heart was racing at her new environment. It's okay. You're okay. Packing up, Petra wandered around until she found a fast food place. The restroom was mercifully empty and she hastily took out her travel toothbrush and some toothpaste. She brushed her hair, trying to appear as presentable as possible. Her stomach growled.

Petra hoped they thought she was a high school student playing hooky. She was worried her short stature and young face would garner attention, attesting to her true age.

"Thanks," she said when her order number was called. After her stomach was no longer growling and demanding to be fed, she sat quietly, subtly watching the patrons. What to do now?

Grabbing her things, pulling up her hood, she walked without purpose or destination. She had succeeded in running away from home—her face twisted up with disgust at the word—and she had no idea what to do.

I can't get a job. No one was going to hire a fourteen-year-old. And where would she live? She couldn't sleep on the streets forever. Petra was smart. She knew the police busted areas like those and if she was caught, they'd send her back there.

She wandered around the foreign city, clueless. Her eyes brightened when she saw the public library. She had a library card but it wouldn't work there. It doesn't matter. She would take a book and sit down in a corner somewhere and read. No one would disturb her if she didn't make trouble.

Petra didn't leave her cozy spot until it was time for lunch. I need to clean up. She had done her research before running away and planned carefully. Smiling, feeling proud, she pulled out the tablet she had taken when she left. With free wifi available everywhere, it was easy to find a public pool where she could wash in the locker room. It took a while to walk there but she had nothing but free time on her hands.

Where do I sleep? As much as she hated it, she knew she had to sleep on the streets. She wanted a bed but shelters filled up very fast, people often getting in line early in the afternoon to grab a spot. But more importantly, she was afraid that since she was a minor and unaccompanied by an adult, they would ask questions.

Going back to the library, unable to find a solution other than sleep in the street again, she pushed everything back and lost herself in her book.

Petra sat at the park bench, swinging her legs back and worth. She really wanted to go to the library, but she couldn't. She had set up a nice routine for herself: wake up, brush her teeth and eat breakfast at alternating fast food places, go to the pool to shower, the library to pass time, lunch, wander around familiarizing herself with the city, library again, dinner, and finally back to where she started the day.

The routine brought comfort to her. She knew what she had to do, where she had to go, and despite the nagging worry about money in the back of her head, she was okay.

But she couldn't go to the library now.

It had been nearly a week since she started hanging out there. Naturally, someone had taken notice. No one had approached her yet and she didn't want to risk it. She had to change her routine. Every other day. From four to closing. And all day Sundays. Petra thought that seemed fair for the middle school student she would pretend to be if someone asked.

The park was her alternative choice. She could sit there, eating her hot dog, watching the parents and nannies chat with each other while keeping an eye on the children. Petra liked it better in the evenings when the people with dogs came. It was fun watching them play and she badly wished she could join them. She'd really like a dog of her own but it couldn't be helped.

As the weeks passed and the new routine worked well for her, she began to enjoy her life. She hadn't felt this happy and relaxed since her parents' accident. Weeks turned into two months and she wasn't as scared anymore of being caught and sent back or of the people she met.

Petra still missed her home. Not the nightmarish foster home they had stuck her in, but her real home. She tried not to think too much about it, all it did was make her want to curl up and cry. But that would attract attention, attention she didn't need.

But homesickness wasn't the only thing plaguing her that she ignored.

My money won't even last until the end of the month. The wad of cash she had taken had dwindled. It wasn't stolen, she had taken it from that awful woman from where she kept in her "secret" hiding space. The government sent them checks to take care of her. And her foster mother had been using it to take care of herself while her foster father wasted it on beer, so as far as Petra was concerned it was okay.

Her worry increased as the week passed. It was the beginning of winter. She needed money. Thanks to her age, lack of education, and zero applicable skills, she had no way of acquiring a job. The idea of selling her body, like some of the kids not that much older than her—some were even younger than her, actually—made her sick to her stomach.

It was during one such time when she was taking a shortcut through a familiar alleyway, lost in thought, mind heavy with worry, that she ran into danger.

She had been in trouble before, once being confronted by a stray dog and another time having a strange man with a creepy look on his face come up to her and offer her to give her a ride. But each time it was daylight, with room to escape, and people within shouting distance.

Not paying attention, she ran into someone. "Sorry," she said automatically. Petra was immediately aware of her surroundings. Small dark alley, alone, with three shady looking young men suddenly trapping her between them.

"Watch where you're going," the one with the snake earring sneered.

"I'm sorry."

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing here?" The way he was eyeing up and down caused her heart to skyrocket. He had the same cold eyes as the other two and a skull tattooed on his neck.

"I was just leaving." She attempted to keep calm and leave but the freakishly tall one blocked her path. Maybe it was the fear or he really was that big, but at that moment he felt like a giant to her.

"Now what do you have in there?" Snake looked at her backpack.

"Clothes," Petra mumbled. "Water. Some food. You can have some," she offered.

"That's not what I'm hungry for," Giant said creepily.

"Give me your bag," Snake demanded. When she didn't comply immediately, frozen in terror at his friend's words, he smacked her. "You deaf, bitch?"

Trembling, she gave him her backpack, feeling like she was handing her life over to him. "Take whatever you want—"

"Oh, we will," Skull promised.

Petra knew they were enjoying her terror and as much as she tried to control her shaking, she hated that she couldn't. She averted her eyes to Snake, crouching on the ground, sifting through her things. It made her feel so powerless and sad.

"Look at this, she's got a couple a hundred bucks." He held up the cash.

"That wasn't nice, ginger. You shouldn't have lied," Giant chided.

"Let's what else she's hiding in here." Snake went back to searching through her things.

"I'm more interested in what she's hiding under these layers." Skull grabbed her coat, pushing her against the wall. "You smell nice for a street rat."

Petra almost gagged at his breath, tears in eyes. "Please, just let me go," she said in a small voice. "You can have the money."

He acted like he was thinking about it. "I'll consider it. If you beg for it."

When she opened her mouth he forced his tongue inside. Petra struggled against his body but to no avail. Tears streaked down her cheeks when she felt a cold hand under her clothes, creeping up to her chest.

"What's she like?" Giant asked eagerly.

When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, she inhaled, frantic for oxygen. Before she could scream, he slammed her head back into the wall, causing a burst of pain. "Not bad," he told his friend. "A little small for my taste but she's still got time." His stuck his second hand in, groping her breasts and squeezing tightly.

Petra's head pounding fiercely but he had let his guard down. Unwilling to let them have their way without a fight, she kneed him in the groin and shoved him away when his grip loosened. She had a satisfactory groan of pain before he fell to the ground, clutching himself.

Snake glanced at them briefly and scoffed, "Serves you right. Idiot." He promptly turned back, opening the zipper to the pocket where she kept her only electronic device. "Nice."

She didn't care about her things anymore and just wanted to run away. Giant grabbed her arm when she tried to dash to the mouth of the alley. "Where do you think you're going, ginger?" The force with which he yanked her nearly dislocated her shoulder. "I haven't had my turn yet."

Petra cried out, the right side of her body exploding in pain from the sudden impact with the hard ground. Giant mounted her, crushing her with his large body. "It won't hurt as much if you struggle. So just be a good little girl and be quiet. I promise you'll like it."

She felt a wave of nausea hit her. Her limbs were limp and weak.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his pants, lowering them.

Suddenly, she heard Snake's voice. "Keep mov—" It turned to wet gurgles.

Giant turned. "Who—what the fuck! You bastard! I'm—"

Blearily, now weeping from relief, she saw a hand and the glint of a serrated dagger, before, with insane speed, it stabbed Giant's side too many times for her to count. He howled in agony, clutching his hand. A pale hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him off her, pushing him onto his two buddies on the ground beside them.

Small, hard gray eyes stared down at her.

Petra was shocked. Her rescuer couldn't have been older than her. He didn't even look bigger than her.

"Go."

It didn't seem real. Petra was frozen in place.

"Get out of here."

She couldn't force herself to move. A crushing sense of despair overwhelmed her. It was over. What had she been thinking, running away? Next time, she might not be so lucky. At least with her foster parents, she knew what was coming. They hit her and yelled at her and treated her like a slave, sometimes locking her in the tiny shed in the backyard. But at least she'd had food and warmth and shelter and her foster father had never looked at her in that disgusting way.

"Stop staring. Go." His voice was tinged with impatience now. "This fucker," her rescuer kicked Skull, making him scream, then crushed his phone, "called an ambulance."

Petra finally snapped out of it. She focused on his face. Pale skin. Dark hair. Sharp nose. And those gray eyes. "I know you."

"No. You don't. Now grab your shit and leave before the cops show up."

Her lips trembled. "Doesn't matter. Let them come. I can't do this." She began to cry.

"What?" Her rescuer looked startled.

She looked to where Snake lay, clutching his throat, blood spilling through his fingers. The money was ruined, parts of it soaked in his blood. "This is what I get," she choked out between sobs, "for running away." She missed her mom and dad. She wanted to go home. The feeling brought on more tears. You don't have a home. She doubted even her foster parents would want her now. They'd have her arrested for stealing their money and using their credit cards to buy the supplies she needed to run away.

"C'mon." The boy stood before her, holding out his hand, her backpack in his other hand. "Let's go."

Petra was confused at the sudden offer. Should she go? He was a stranger. But he'd saved her. And if he did turn out to be like the three, he was only one boy and about as a skinny as her.

"I'm not asking again," he said irritably.

The wail of sirens became audible.

She took his hand.

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