The Wilting Rose On The Side Of The Road
They say power is a capability given to few; not everyone holds power, and those who do abuse it. Though, perhaps that statement was a lie. Everyone holds power, but everyone's power was far grander than her own. Unfortunately for her, everyone who held power over her abused it.
The insurance company found a loop in their own system: so she couldn't get paid after the fire, her company fired her for missing a week after staying in the hospital. Her own mind fought against her better judgment and she burnt her savings paying for them to try and save her brother, despite knowing he was dead from the start.
She had her brother cremated, as her parents already were. All of their ashes were tucked away in her stuffed (f/a) that always stayed in her bag. Misfortune was always after the girl, no matter how hard she tried to fight against it.
What money she had left, despite her wasting, was spent in a card theft that the bank refused to refund. Now she was broke and homeless. Slowly starving to death, living off $9 an hour, 5 days a week. Despite all these troublesome factors, the woman was managing. She'd only been robbed once, so far, by a teenager with a gun she only realized was fake when she handed over the money and he was running.
She felt like death was knocking on her door, her vision would go blurry on the weekends, when she hadn't eaten, and she'd sleep for so long she'd sometimes be late to work. However, she was fortunate enough to continue to own a phone and have enough to bribe he way into the gym bathrooms to stay refreshed. She was trying her best to save, hiding the money in a secret compartment in her bag.
Now, she sat on a bench, exhausted from working and filthy. Her head was thrown back on the bench and her eyes were closed. The woman's chest continue to rise and fall at a fast, yet steady, pace. Sweat covered the woman's face and her lip was bruised. The fan in the bus stop was doing wonders for the young, tired, woman, cooling her hot body down.
Perhaps she appeared dead with her malnourished appearance. The woman's hair was oily and matted, her skin pale, eyes holding bags, not to mention the gunk on her uniform from the trash bag that broke. Her underwhelming appearance seemed to capture wandering eyes as a man approached the woman. She didn't notice as her consciousness was beginning to leave her and her body began to go limp.
"Excuse me, miss?" The woman flinched at the man's voice, taken aback. She looked up at the man, finding friendly, yet concerned, blue eyes staring into her (e/c) ones. The woman swallowed and shifted in her seat, discomfort building up in her chest.
"Yes?" The man didn't look very frightening, at least, she didn't find the trucker type frightening. The man had blue hair with a matching beard, he wore a red button up shirt that was tucked into jeans. He seemed very business casual, way better off than herself.
"Are you alright?" He asked, the concern in his voice running through her body like a drug. The woman felt frozen in her seat, confused and oddly comfortable. Then her brain put the most likely conclusion to their scene.
"I'm alright. I'm sorry for sitting at the bus stop, I probably smell horrible, I was just about to leave anyway. Sorry for putting a damper on your day." The woman sputtered out quickly before getting up and beginning to make her way. The man was quick to respond by grabbing her wrist.
"No, please, you look like you need help and I'd love to help you in anyway I can. Could I give you a ride to your destination? I have money, I could get you some food." The man was quick to offer, his voice genuine. The woman felt like her insides were turning to pudey.
"Oh I could never, I'm alright, thank you." She replied quickly, not wanting to waste any of the man's money on herself. The woman knew she needed it, but the man in front of her could also need it. Those usually offer what they can't afford.
"At least allow me to give you a ride, I insist." The man begged, his grip loosening, ready for her to walk away from him. Instead, she stared into his eyes. He could only assume she was looking for answers, perhaps looking for the honesty in his eyes. Slowly, she nodded.
The man smiled slightly. The woman then slowly followed the man to the large red and blue truck. He opened the door for her and watched as she slowly climbed inside. He shut the door behind her carefully and went to the driver's side and got in.
"Where are you headed?" The nice man asked, his voice begging for an answer. The woman buckled in and took another questioning glance at the kind man. She kept a hand on the handle and her thumb on the seatbelt release.
"The gym." She replied, her voice flat, hiding the fear growing in her chest. The man just smiled at her and nodded. To the woman's surprise, the truck drove quite smoothly, in her past, trucks had a small jiggle to them.
"What's your name?" The man asked, stopping at the red light. The woman gripped her backpack and swallowed. A small part of her was afraid that he had read about her in the news paper, the other part curious if that was something on the dark web that they decide to change eventually. She shook off her unreasonable fears and gifted the kind man a small smile.
"(Y/n). What can I call you?" The woman questioned in return. Her voice was still plain, though her body was still rather tense. Her grip tightened on the handle, fear continuing to crawl up her spine. She knew it might've been childish, but hitchhiking was a transport of intense caution.
"Orion, it's nice to meet you (Y/n). I hope to see you around more after today." The man spoke, sounding sincere. Though his statement of endearment was odd, it strangely didn't feel as threatening. (Y/n)'s grip slightly loosened and her smile grew.
"Uh... yeah. Hopefully it's in better circumstances..." (Y/n) mumbled, looking away, the idea of having a friend refusing to settle in her stomach. It had been so long since she's had someone who cared about her. So long since she's felt a gentle touch.
When (Y/n) had become homeless, the world seemed to turn a blind eye to her. However when they turned their focus on her, they acted aggressively and without sympathy. Unfortunately for her, she had been asked to become a prostitute more than she had just been given food or spare change from a caring someone.
She understood though, sometimes the homeless were druggies and people didn't want their money to go to waste. However, it was still insulting to her humanity to be asked to strip, dance, or throw away her dignity for a few bucks. Even if she was looking for that life style, there weren't any strip clubs in the area. At this point (Y/n) wouldn't even mind becoming a stripper, it was a cool profession and strippers deserve more respect than they get.
"Well we're here. Stay safe, miss (Y/n)." Orion said to the woman, a warm smile on his lips. She returned it, her grip loosening completely from the handle, before she realized she actually needed to be holding it. (Y/n) quickly nodded and opened the door, exiting the vehicle.
"Thank you for the ride. Is there any way I could repay you?"
"Like I said, stay safe." Orion nodded her off, reaching over and shutting her door before driving off. (Y/n) stared off in the truckers direction. Her chest tightened with guilt and she turned her back.
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