3
She'd known better to be out on the streets like that. But she had to get out, when she had the chance. Her only chance. He was gone, and she was hungry. Biting her lip, she swallowed the lump in her throat as she hurried down the alley, stopping outside of a broken window. She looked around to make sure she wasn't being followed. Once she was convinced it was clear, she pushed the window open, and crawled inside, falling onto her hands and knees. The building had been abandoned years ago. It was her favorite place to stay, even if it cost her. Always cost her.
The building was dark and cold, but she knew the way like the back of her hand. Her heart was racing, her legs feeling like jelly, and her stomach full. She hadn't had pancakes in so long, she had almost forgotten what they tasted like. Of course, she had been stupid, running around like that. She would pay for it, too. One way, or another.
The further she went into the building, the tenser she became. She wanted to turn around and run, to leave, to escape, but it didn't help. She had tried, but he always found her. Always. She pushed one of the doors open, and looked around. He wasn't there, so she walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She started a fire in the large metal barrel, adding as much trash as she could to warm up the room. The taste of pancakes was still on her tongue. She wanted more.
"Where were you?"
Spinning, she gasped and saw him standing in the doorway.
He looked down her body, his eyes lifting back to her. "Where were you?"
She shook her head, unable to speak. That was the wrong move, seeing as he hurled himself across the room and pinned her against the wall. His lips were just centimeters away from hers, so close she could smell the rot of his breath.
"Where were you?"
She just stood there, staring at him, knowing it wouldn't matter if she spoke or not. He wouldn't care where she was, what she had been doing. Nothing she did was right. She wasn't a good girl, not for him.
"You stupid little bitch," he snarled, throwing her onto the floor.
Before she could think, he was on top of her, ripping the layers of clothes off her, taking from her what he wanted, reminding her that she was nothing.
—SfH—
She waited until daybreak before she moved again. She put on her clothes, adding an extra layer. Just in case, she told herself. She blew out a deep breath before she walked over to the door, cracking it open. He wouldn't still be there. Not this early. He always left her alone once the sun was out. He knew she wouldn't run too far. She had nowhere else to go, nobody to run too. Being extra quiet, just in case, she slipped out of the room, leaning against the wall as she made her way back to the broken window. Her body hurt, as it always did when she disobeyed him. He punished her worse than normal. Maybe he could smell the pancakes on her breath.
When she stepped into the alley, she crouched down against the wall, listening for the sounds of anyone close. There wasn't, so she pushed away the building, yet stayed hidden behind the dumpsters, the trash, anything that would keep her hidden. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, just needed to get out of that room, even if it was her favorite place to stay. He'd be moving her soon. They never stayed in one place for long. It was dangerous, he said. They would take him away from her, take her away from him. She wasn't sure which one was worse: being with him, or away from him.
She shook her head so that her hair hung more in her face as she reached the mouth of the alley. She looked in both directions before turning left. The same way she had gone the night before, when she got pancakes. She wanted more pancakes, but knew she wouldn't get any. Probably ever again. She should have left after she jumped in front of his car. She wasn't even sure why she did, why in that moment, she felt compelled to draw attention to herself. He seemed like a nice man, not like him, and he seemed genuinely worried that he had hurt her. Which was ridiculous, of course. She had jumped out in front of him, not the other way around. Yes, she ran because she had learned a long time ago to run when someone comes at you like that, but she hadn't been very smart. She got herself trapped with no way out. Most of the time that lead to pain and hurt, but not last night. Last night, she got pancakes.
She missed pancakes.
—SfH—
The day moved too quickly, as always. She milled around the streets, delaying her return for as long as she could. But as the sun began to dip in the west, she knew she had to hurry. Being late two nights in a row would be bad. Really, really bad. She moved along the streets, which were almost empty now. Most of the people who worked in the area had long ended their days, leaving the streets empty, solitude, quiet. Just how she liked them. She'd stay out all night if she could. But she couldn't. He wouldn't like it. One night was one thing, two was something else. That had been a lesson she learned the hard way, a lesson she didn't want to repeat.
She slipped into the alley, but stopped when she saw the police officers at the other end. It took them a solid five seconds to spot her, but once they did, they called out to her, "Hey, stop, it's okay," and started walking toward her with their hands up.
She turned and ran around the corner, but slid to a stop again when she saw another patrol car and looking behind her, another one. Her hands clinched into tight fists as she looked around, trying to figure out how to get out of there. If he found out she had gotten caught out, he wouldn't be happy.
"Hey, honey, it's okay," one of the officers to her left said, his hands up in front of him. His partner has his mouth pressed up against a radio, the words, "Found her," and "Worse than he said," echoing out of his mouth.
She turned and started back toward the alley, but the officers had moved quicker than she expected and they had her in their arms before she could breathe.
"Nobody's going to hurt you," they said. "It's okay."
But it was far from being okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. He'd end her for this, for getting caught.
—SfH—
They forced her into the backseat of one of the patrol cars. She didn't fight them. There wasn't a point to fighting. If they didn't end her, he would. He had told her so many times how he would do it, too. Strangled, stabbing, shooting her, beating her, burning her alive.
The two officers in the car with her kept looking back at her as they pulled away from the curb and headed up the street. She expected them to take her to jail, but they didn't. They pulled up at the hospital. Odd, she thought. Why would they take her there?
They climbed out and opened the back door, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the backseat. Again, she didn't put up a fight. Wasn't worth it. They flanked her on either side as they marched her into the emergency room. She looked around, finding nurses and doctors waiting for her, for them to bring her to them. There was a man standing in the middle, though. Tall, thin with long shaggy blond hair and blue eyes that reminded her of her pancake man. He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting a little higher than most did. Almost a smirk.
She hated smirkers.
"Hello," he said, his voice soft and full of caution. "My name is Jasper. Jasper Cullen. Can you tell me your name?"
She merely stared at him.
He took a step toward her, causing her to move backward, but the officers holding onto her arms stopped her from moving too much. "I'm not going to hurt you. We just want to help."
Again, she just stared at him. Help? Nobody ever wanted to help. Not her, never.
"Maybe we should take this to a private room," Jasper suggested, reaching his hand out for her.
She looked down at his hand, before lifting her eyes back to his, and slowly shook her head.
"How about you lead the way?" he suggested, twisting his body so he was pushing the people around him back, his arms stretched out to show her the way. "Any room you want is okay."
She bit the inside of her lip and looked from him to the police officers who were still holding onto her arms.
"Let her go," he said, talking to them, but keeping his eyes locked on her. "I heard you like pancakes. Want me to get you some?"
Her eyes widened, and her mouth watered, her tongue slipping out of her mouth to wet her lips. Slowly, she nodded, wanting nothing more than more pancakes. Not matter what it cost her.
"Okay, let's just get you into a room, and we will get you as many pancakes as you can eat. Deal?"
Once again, she nodded, and when she stepped toward him, the officers holding her arms released her. She kept her eyes locked on his as she followed him down the hallway. He kept his body angled toward the wall, stopping when she reached one of the doors with the number eight on the wall. Eight years old, eight years later, eight, eight, eight eight. It was her least favorite number, yet her the number that haunted her dreams, nightmares.
"Good choice," he said with a smile and pushed the door open, gesturing for her to walk in.
She kept her eyes locked on his as she slid past him and into the room. It was too bright for her. Jasper walked in behind her, staying next to the door. He smiled and pulled out a phone, his fingers flying across the screen quickly. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked back at her.
"I hope you're hungry," he said with a laugh. "I ordered you a lot of pancakes."
She stared at him.
"Can you tell me your name?"
She shook her head.
"Can you tell me how old you are?"
Again, she shook her head.
Jasper pressed his lips together. "I understand you got hit by a car yesterday."
Her eyes widened, shifting between him and the door. Of course, that explains everything. She should have known she would get in trouble for running out in front of that car. She should have been more careful.
"Are you hurt?" Jasper asked.
She shook her head quickly.
But before he could question her more, someone knocked on the door. She scrambled away from it, pressing herself against the farthest wall, the farthest corner she could find. Jasper turned and yanked the door open, taking a step backward. She tilted her head to the side, finding her pancake man standing there, his arms full of Styrofoam containers.
"Get in here, jackass," Jasper quipped.
"Sorry," the man grumbled, entering the room. He placed the pancakes on the examination table before turning back to her. "Do you remember me?"
She nodded, her eyes shifting to the containers. She could smell the pancakes, making her mouth water.
He smiled and picked up one of the containers and held it out to her. "No syrup, just like last night."
She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached out and took the container from him. She nearly ripped the lid off and grabbed a fistful of pancakes, shoving them into her mouth.
Jasper and the man laughed and opened the other two containers, which were also full of pancakes.
"My name is Carlisle," the man said with a smile. "Carlisle Cullen. This is my brother, Jasper. I, um, asked him to find you."
She tilted her head to the side. Why would he be looking for her? She was nothing, nobody.
"I was worried about you, after yesterday," he explained. "I thought you might have been hurt after I almost hit you with my car."
She shoved more pancake into her mouth before shaking her head.
"Good, good," he said, clearly relieved. "Um, can you tell me, tell us, your name?"
She frowned and shook her head.
"We're not going to hurt you," Carlisle said, putting his hands up. "We just want to help, but we can't do that if you don't tell us who you are."
Her eyes widened as she looked at the handful of pancakes in hand back to him. Her mouth opened once, twice, a third time before she managed to say, "I don't have a name."
Thank you for all the reviews. Heavy chapter!
