Last Run

There she was on two streets she did not know, waiting for hope, faith and a rescue. The night weather was beastly and unforgiving to her bare skin. Fishnet covered legs, weary from two years of running, slender arms weakened from continuous fighting, chest panting, bare to the gusty winds and open for the world to see. She stopped to catch her breath and to come up with a plan since she hasn’t had one since she started running. Her mind cleared and her face distraughtly filled with tears, agony, and failure. The streets were empty and lonely. All the stores were closed and there was sign of no one, not even a passing car. Afar off was a street light, underneath it was a bus stop shelter. A man of much greater age than her rested on the bus stop bench. Onion layers of dark and worn clothes covered his body in warmth. He leaned on his supermarket cart of trinkets, bottles, and bags and he used up half of the bench. That night the bench was his home. The terrified girl began to walk and approached the bench. She questioned whether she should sit next to the mysterious man. There was no where else insight to go and her weary body yearned for the seat, a resting place. So she sat down on the other side of the bench and whimpered in the whistling winds. The old man inquisitively turned around after hearing her sounds and was shocked by what he saw. He said "Mam, aren't you cold?". Without a response he quickly took off two of his huge shawls and wrapped them around her. She slowed down her whimpering and looked at him, and uttered a shaky, "Thank you". It has been two years since a male has done anything out of courtesy and sincerity for her. Then the kind man strangely asked "Are you okay? Where have your feet trod?" She stared into his broad face and took a moment to reply. Pale, round and resembled the full moon of that night, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. She thought about his odd question and recalled the night she left home when she was only fourteen years old. She began to deliver the story from that night to the night they were sitting in. She revealed to the old man words that never left her mouth before but continuously plays in her mind. Running then has no comparison to her run now. She ran and unknowingly went in the wrong direction. Landing in the hands of bald- minded men, filled with greed and vanity, capturing the minds and bodies of young girls and keeping them in a jar. Men, old, young, of different colors and sizes pay a fee and reach into the jar for their fair share. No heart, no conscience, no worries. Used by those who stole her childhood, violated her chastity and caged her innocence. Her body did what they told her too but her mind and spirit ran to freedom. One day her body got the chance to run too. The three ran from those men, the life of forgetfulness, and the pain of having no future. All this she shares with the old stranger. She wished she never took the first run, then she would not have to take this one. The old man takes a deep breath and says "Those who run aren’t cowards, but brave because they had enough courage to". The now calm girl pondered on the wise comment and fell asleep.