Chapter 5: On the Run
Kira watched as a couple sat out in the backyard of the orphanage with Annie. She was about the same age as Kira but that was about where the similarities ended. Annie had entered the system only about a year prior after her parents died in a car crash and there had been no family members able to take her in. She was always so cheerful that Kira couldn't stand her. That cheerfulness, however, was likely why the couple who was sitting at the table outback was interested in adopting the girl.
The director had tried to convince Kira to mimic Annie's attitude whenever strangers came to visit the orphanage but Kira had no desire to attract any attention from any of the childless couples who came in either to make themselves feel good about doing a good deed by spending time with the children who had no one else or by those who came around in hopes of finding a child to take home with them. Instead, Kira had developed the habit to speak only when she found that it was absolutely necessary to get people to leave her alone with her books.
They were the only bright spots that Kira found when she was living in the orphanages or foster homes. She loved going to school and she even enjoyed listening to some of her teachers as they gave their lessons. Kira's time on the streets might have put her behind in actually being able to sit in class and do the required work for each grade level but when she was in school she soaked up the information given to her like a sponge.
A year ago, one of her teachers, Miss Helen Hutchins, had even offered to tutor her to get her caught up fully with her class work. Kira had been living in a group home at the time with foster parents who really hadn't seen the need in the tutoring though. Kira was doing just fine as she was. In fact, she was making better grades than their other charges. Still, the teacher had insisted that with the proper tutelage, Kira could possibly even begin the next school year a whole grade ahead of the other children her own age. Reluctantly, the eleven year old girl had been given permission to stay after school for extra lessons.
At times, Kira was sure that she must have annoyed Miss Hutchins (sometimes she had tried to do so on purpose) but the teacher had been very patient with her anyway. Even when Kira had pointed out that one of the special spelling words that she'd been given to learn, since she was so far ahead of her classmates, was spelled wrong. Onomatopoeia; her teacher had spelled it onomatopeia.
When Kira had pointed out the mistake the teacher had gone over to the dictionary and looked up at child with disbelief and had simply said, "You're right. How'd you know that?"
Kira had overheard that Helen Hutchins had actually discussed the possibility of adopting her at one point but since she was a single woman with limited means, she hadn't been considered to be a viable placement for her. When Kira had come across a letter from the department that handled adoptions of foster children in the state on Miss Hutchins's desk, she had become so upset at the knowledge that she was being denied the chance to leave the system like the other kids that she'd seen being adopted or sent to some of the good foster homes. When the school year ended, Helen made Kira promise that she would keep up with her studies and had never seen her again.
Within two weeks of the end of the school year, Kira had run back to the streets. Things made more sense to her out there. Unfortunately, she'd only made it about three months before a social worker had the police raid an old abandoned house that she knew several street kids had taken over. That had sent Kira right back to the orphanages once more.
So now Kira was scowling out the window as the girl that she couldn't stand charmed her way into a new home. Kira turned from the window and pulled out the books that she'd swiped from the library and figured that getting lost in her books and stories was much more preferable than watching Annie with her new family out in the yard. At least Kira could expect to be rid of the obnoxiously cheerful girl for good within a couple of weeks. That was something at least.
Kira opened the large tome and began reading of a long gone civilization as she began to tune out those around her; particularly a certain bubbly girl who had come running in excitedly after the couple left for the day. While Annie chattered on about her potential move out date, Kira was immersed in reading of ancient Indian tribes that had once roamed freely across the land; much in the same way that she roamed freely when she lived on the streets.
She thought she heard a car outside so Kira peeked out of the window only to sigh in relief when she saw that the driveway was still dark outside. Hurrying, she knew that she had to scan through the room quickly to find anything that could be sold later on for food or clothes. Elsewhere, other street kids were ransacking the house while doing the same thing as Kira. Each child would keep whatever they found in their chosen rooms. Kira had decided on the den for her room to look for hidden treasures. In her experience, these rich folks liked to hide the good stuff in their sanctuaries away from the rest of their own families. It never ceased to amaze Kira just how much people didn't even trust those with whom they shared their lives. By now, Kira was good at spotting hidden alcoves and false backs to drawers and even when a room seemed smaller than it should have been. Finding the secret rooms with stashed jewels always gave Kira a big rush. She knew that she'd be eating well for at least a month if she could find one again.
She never took everything, only what she knew she needed to buy food for a time. Her conscious wouldn't let her clean out everything that she found. Her conscious even had a name; her imaginary friend from when she was younger, Bo. It seemed so strange that even at her age that she could still talk to him as easily as she could way back when she was four. Of course, Bo was the only friend that she had that she never had to leave behind; either on the streets or in an orphanage. As a result, maybe she had grown too dependent on him. She didn't need other friends, even if he wasn't real, he was always there. Kira was also able to imagine herself in a nice home with a family that really cared for her through Bo. After all, the only family she'd ever had abandoned her in the hospital's waiting room nearly a decade prior. If she could have changed things, she wished that she could have been sent to a family like Bo's rather than Selma's or any of the others that she had gone to over the years.
Kira quickly went back to the desk and felt around for the back of the drawer and fiddled with it until it folded down to reveal the hidden compartment. Running her hand along the false back, Kira pulled out the prize for her trouble. It wasn't jewels this time; instead it was a small pistol, complete with an ankle holster. Kira had never held a gun before but she did know that many of the other street children did have their own. Some were hidden amongst their modest belongings. Others kept them hidden on themselves while going about their day to day lives. Kira wasn't sure if she planned to keep it but she did know that if she decided to get rid of the pistol it would be worth more than she could swipe from wallets for sure.
Stashing the weapon into her backpack, Kira grabbed the small amount of cash that had been kept in the drawer as well before she ducked out of the house. She had enough cash to keep her fed for several days now without having to resort to other survival crimes in order to eat. Just because she was well adept at what she had learned that she had to do didn't mean that she had to like it. Each time she went with the others to break into a house or helped with picking pockets, Kira felt incredibly guilty at times. The only thing that made her feel better was that Kira did her best to target those who clearly could afford that added hassle of having to replace their stolen belongings.
Kira knew that the others would stay behind and try to gather any and all items that they could that they knew would bring a price. For her part, Kira didn't want to push her luck. She chose to leave behind any additional trinkets that would likely be worth a pretty penny on the streets since she felt she had enough for the moment. Kira wanted to get out before the owners returned home.
Stepping through the debris in a nearly burned out house; Kira tried her best to avoid the more brittle floorboards as she headed toward her customary spot near the back of the hollowed-out, abandoned house. She had tucked the cash that she'd found in the drawer into her boots but she was lost about what she should do about the pistol. It was too large to really hide in her clothes but the more that she thought about it, the more that Kira liked the idea of keeping it.
Already, Kira kept a small knife in her pocket for protection. Something that she'd started doing shortly after she'd ran away once more from her last foster care home. One of the older kids there, a teenaged boy, had the habit of teasing and watching the girls in a way that had made Kira feel very uncomfortable. He always would watch the girls just a bit closer than the other boys and his icy smile reminded Kira of Bruce. When he looked at Kira or the other young teenaged girls, it never seemed like he was seeing them. He also would grope the girls whenever the foster parents were not around.
One night, the adults were out for the night; the couple's date night of sorts. Kira had been up in her room with her books studying when the boy, whose name she had refused to remember, came in and had tried to convince her to make out with him. When Kira had refused he had pushed her back onto the bed and it had only been the fact that she had been able to reach and grab the lamp on the side table that had allowed her to both keep her pants on and get the boy off of her. After crashing the lamp over the boy, Kira had grabbed her beloved books and had run out of house and hadn't looked back.
In the time since returning to the streets, Kira noticed that she attracted more attention from some of the men who drove their cars up and down the streets where the other teenaged girls worked. Once, one man had attempted to pull her into his car and it had only been by using the knife to slash at the man that had been her saving grace. Kira was well aware of the fact that as long as she stayed on the streets, she would be considered an easy target for those who were like that man. Now Kira was never without her knife handy but she could only use it once she was already within arms' reach of whichever person who wanted to harm her. A gun, however, could be used to keep others further away from her. She chose when she would allow others closer to her; and with the gun, she could back up her desire to be left alone.
Nearly a year later, Kira rubbed her shoulder as she tried to soothe the pain away from the night's fight. Tonight, she had joined in with the street fights again since she figured that it was more honest to earn her money through her own bruises rather than breaking into another home or business. After the last house, Kira had been keeping a low profile just like the others in her group. Well, those children who were still out on the streets at least.
Less than five minutes after Kira had left out with the cash and gun that she had found in the desk the cops had arrived and had taken away all of the young thieves who were still ransacking the home. A neighbor had noticed a light on upstairs and had called the authorities. Kira had not seen any of the other kids who had been there that night since then. Likely enough, they had either been sent to juvenile hall or foster care; depending on what was on each of the children's records up to that point.
Sore, bruised and battered from the fight that had not resulted in any extra cash to keep on hand since she lost, Kira walked toward the bus station where she'd planned to sleep for the night. The morning after the other kids had been taken off; the police had arrived at the old burned out building that had served as a home for the street children in their small little group. That meant that someone must have said more than they should have once they had been taken in. Seeing that the house was no longer safe to stay at, Kira had begun to make her rounds to various other places that were considered to be safe locations to spend the cool winter nights.
She was only three blocks away from the bus station when a young man (perhaps only eighteen or nineteen) who looked as if he'd spent his whole life on the streets came just a bit closer than Kira was comfortable with. She didn't know him but she'd seen him around some of the street fights and knew that he'd fight some of the other young adults. He was far more aggressive than some of the others who fought. Most fought just as a means to eat. He fought with the intent to cause as much damage as he could.
Kira was aware of the fact that the young man who had fought her shadow in the last fight had been found dead the next morning after the fight. He had apparently suffered internal injuries that no one knew about. It wasn't the first time that Kira had heard of one of the fighters being found dead but it still caught her each time that she heard about one.
Kira had never seen the man anywhere other than the fights so she was surprised to see him now. Out of habit, Kira stopped rubbing the soreness out of her shoulder and tried to appear stronger than she felt at the moment. She knew that showing any weakness could cost her dearly, both in the ring and out of it while living out in the streets. Straightening her pack on her back, Kira did her best to look as confident as she could as she made her turn down the alley that would lead her toward the bus station. When he followed her, Kira felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Knowing from experience that she should always be prepared for just such an occasion, Kira had taken her old rusty blade that she'd found in the dumpster over a year ago out of her backpack just as she left the fight and slipped it into her pocket. The gun that only had two of the six bullets that it had in it when she first took it was still in the top of her bag. She knew that there was no way of pulling it out though without it being obvious that she'd noticed her sudden shadow.
Kira strained her ears and listened as the footsteps behind her echoed behind her in the alleyway. As she neared the center of the alley, the footsteps fell faster and closer to her; telling her that her shadow had decided to rush her. Kira pulled her pocket knife that no longer folded over on itself and turned just as the man reached out to grab her. The blade caught him in the forearm and left a bloody streak in his skin. He roared in anger before striking out and sent the weapon out of Kira's hold; the blade ended up lost in the dimness of the alley among the trash that littered the street.
Before Kira could react, she found herself thrown backwards onto the ground. The next few minutes were filled with struggling to get back to her feet while hoping to slip her backpack off so that she could pull out her only other weapon in an attempt to protect herself. Kira bit, punched, kicked, head-butted, twisted and squirmed in an effort to get away. When her knee finally connected with the young man's groin, she was able to roll away from him and pull out her pistol and held it up while breathing hard.
Kira had fired the weapon four times prior; each only to warn off other attackers. When she had done so, she learned that the gun was powerful. So powerful in fact that it would send her aim off greatly as the barrel would tip upwards after being fired. Now crouched on the ground and watching the man stand back up, Kira didn't think that a warning shot would scare him away.
When he took a step forward, Kira squeezed the trigger and swallowed hard when the shot missed her target horribly. She heard a touch of laughter in the growl that the man emitted as he lunged forward as she squeezed the trigger for what she knew would be the last time since she didn't have any more bullets left. This time, Kira aimed a lot lower and the bullet lodged itself in the man's thigh.
As Kira heard the scream of pain, she grabbed her bag and ran for the end of the alleyway. When she reached the bus station, Kira looked around and saw that a bus was about to pull out from the station. The luggage compartment was still open under the bus while the driver was seeing to the passengers so Kira rushed over and did her best to crawl in behind the suitcases of the paying passengers. Kira knew that her hit hadn't been life threatening; in fact it only grazed her attacker's thigh but it had been enough to let her get away. He had known where she was heading so she did not doubt that he'd come to the station to look for her. She needed an escape and she needed it fast. She could survive just as easily in another city as she could in this one. That was one good thing about not having any close friends. There was nothing to keep her here.
Just as the driver closed the luggage compartment, Kira saw the man that she'd shot limping into the bus yard. Kira was glad that no one could possibly see her behind the bags of the passengers of the bus. She then settled onto the hard metal flooring of the luggage compartment and wondered just where the bus would take her.