where I am. I could end up wandering in circles for the rest of the night. I can see that the sun is dipping low on the horizon. Soon it will be nighttime, and the last thing I want to be doing when the sun sets is walking around this part of the city. Eyeing the buildings as I go, feeling increasingly self-conscious under the scrutiny of the strangers around me. Eventually a dilapidated warehouse around the corner from a run-down apartment complex catches my eye. On the door is a sign reading, “CAUTION - CONDEMNED”, but the padlock keeping it shut has been broken. I’m probably not the first squatter to turn up here. All I can do is hope it’s empty as I try the door. It groans open stiffly and a flurry of rust flakes showers down on me.
It seems like some kind of abandoned storage facility, with debris and evidence of more vagabonds scattered around the floor. There’s no electricity, so I use my phone flashlight to look around as I make my way to the back corner. It occurs to me that if the place is condemned, the roof might fall on me at any minute… but I’m past thinking about that now. Hell, maybe that would even be a blessing, I think dryly. When I reach the corner, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dirty, boarded-up window on the far wall. Blonde hair--wet, dirty, and tangled. Dark eyes--so dark they could almost be black. I look like I’ve aged ten years in the past few hours. If this is what one evening on the streets does to me, how am I supposed to survive after tonight?
Whatever, I tell myself. We’ll worry about that later. For now, just try to get some sleep.
There’s a flat piece of cardboard on the floor in the back of the room, and I decide it will do as a makeshift bed. Using my backpack as a pillow, I curl up on the hard concrete and listen to the rain fall outside. As I do, I find myself thinking about my parents once again, but I’m not sure why they keep coming to my mind tonight. Why did they leave me in the hospital all those years ago? What made them leave me to a life of bouncing from foster home to foster home, listening to drunk old men yell and having to run away to get away from it all? And what’s going to happen to me now?
At some point the sound of the rain lulls me into an uneasy sleep, and for a few blissful hours, I forget all about where I am or how I got here. Eventually, though, the sound of voices breaks the fitful sleep, and I begin to drift awake. For a moment I’m disoriented, missing the pullout couch, but then everything comes flooding back to me and I jerk awake.
There are two men standing over me.
Scrambling to get back into a sitting position, I stare up at them in shock. They’re dressed in baggy clothes, their shoes ragged, and in a heartbeat I realize why this place was empty.
“What do we have here?” the first one asks, staring down at me with bloodshot eyes.
My mind is racing—I should have locked the door, or barred it, or... something. Shit. Another mistake in a long string of mistakes. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, still trying to get a handle on the situation. “I didn’t realize this place was occupied.”
“Damn right, it’s occupied,” replies the second man, peering down at me. “What the hell is a little girl like you doing here?”
“I…” I fumble for a response. “I just needed somewhere to get out of the rain.” Still disoriented and foggy from sleep, I sit up straighter. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.” I get to my feet, backpack clutched to my chest, and begin to retreat.
“What have you got there, huh?” asks the second man, his interest piqued now that he’s seen my backpack. “Did you bring us a present?”
“Huh?” I ask, shaking a little.
The first man points to my backpack. “Think of it as an apology gift. For wasting our time.”
“I…” I glance down at the backpack, containing my only possessions, and shake my head. “I’m sorry. This is all I have. If I could just go, I would…”
“Fine,” the second man says. “Just your wallet, then.”
I take another step back, my heart beginning to beat more quickly. The door