Page 5 of Sinner's Malice

No clothes.

I was utterly alone in an unfamiliar city, scared for the first time in my life. I quickly learned that life on the streets was survival of the fittest. For a while, I tried my best to find a job, any job, but when people took a good look at me, they quickly shut the door in my face. No one wanted to bother with a homeless teenager, let alone someone who had no identification.

I learned rather quickly which parts of the city to stay away from. Like the subway at night or Central Park where all the junkies roamed looking for their next fix. I evaded a few pimps on the streets, refusing to turn out exactly like my mother.

The longer I lived on the streets, the more desperate I became. Starvation became my constant friend. Nothing quelled the hunger that gnawed at me. The first time I ate out of a dumpster, it made me sick to my stomach. Now, it didn’t bother me. I knew which restaurants had the best food and what times they dumped their leftovers.

One of my favorite places was the little diner on Pier 81. The place was nothing special, but the cook knew what he was doing. My problem tonight was that I found the place had shut down for renovations. There was no way I’d make it back to my second choice before the other street rats raided the dumpster.

It looked like I was on my own.

As soon as the man walked back inside, I raced over to the dumpster, flipped the lid and sighed.

Nothing.

Leaning against the dumpster, I slid to the ground and cried.

It had been three days since I’d had anything good to eat.

I was starving.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

I didn’t want to.

Hearing the water slosh against the pier, I wondered if maybe I should just end it all. Start over fresh in my next life.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Looking up, I saw a large man standing on the back step of the warehouse, smoking a cigarette as he looked directly at me. He was tall, muscular and very handsome, from what I could see.

“Seen you around a few times.”

“I’ll leave,” I muttered.

“Didn’t say you had to,” he said, blowing smoke into the chilly night. “You hungry?”

I nodded.

The man walked back into the warehouse only to return seconds later with a bottle of water and a sub sandwich.

Holding it out to me, he waited.

Slowly getting to my feet, I walked over to him.

With a shaky hand, I reached for the sandwich and water.

“Thank you.”

“Take a seat. Keep me company.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice.

Sitting on the step next to him, I dug into the sandwich and tasted nothing better. I could have cried, it tasted so good.

“Fuck, girl, slow down. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“This is the first thing I’ve eaten in three days. I’m hungry.”