Would You Go?

Would you run away if I tell you I can read your thoughts? That I know when, where, and why you will die? That I can tell everything about you by looking at you? Would you?

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2. Chapter 1

      There is only one thing that allows me the ability to not see into people's thoughts, their stories, and those would be my sunglasses. Any sunglasses work, for an unknown reason, and I was grateful when I figured this out. I could finally block everything out, other than the images their bodies posses. From that point on I wore the sunglasses everywhere, unless something bothered me about anyone's physical appearance such as too many bruises.

     They are positioned on my face currently as I watch people walk through the city, continuing their everyday lives. I simply see their clothes rippling in the wind, the women's hair blown around their heads, and their physical features. There are no dates flashing quickly through my head, no tragic deaths shown to me. The air around me is cold, freezing the empty seat beside me on the metal bench. The smell of the city is all around me and I take a deep breath. There is fresh baked goods mixed with the not so delightful smell of smog.

     I see a girl huddled with a blanket in the alley beside me and decide it's time to see one person's fate. I look over the top of my sunglasses and see many scenes. Her story seems to be that she ran away from home and didn't trust her friends not to tell her parents where she disappeared to, leaving her on the streets. The corners of my mouth turn downward slightly, my eyebrows slanting in a saddened manner. September 19, 2015 comes into my mind, as does an image of her starved body lying in an abandoned building. I push the sunglasses back over my eyes and think to myself. I could save her, either take her to a foster home, as she was only about 12 years old, take care of her myself, or find another person I trust enough to take care of her.

     "Hello!" A voice chirps from behind me, interrupting my train of thought. I spin around to see a man has taken the seat beside me. He has strikingly blue eyes, chocolate brown hair, and lightly tanned skin. His lips were full for a man, the corners turned upward, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

     "Hello," I reply with reluctance. No one has come up to me in what seems like forever, and now on a random day in November a man shows up beside me.

     "I'm Conner Jennings," He holds his hand out to me and I stare at it for a quick second.

     "Um. I'm Seraphina," I take his hand cautiously, shake it lightly, then pull away.

     "Seraphina. I like that name; it's pretty," He smiles at me, "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything Seraphina, but you seemed quite lonely on this bench."

     "Uh, it's fine. I was just thinking about what I could do to help that young girl over there," I find myself saying while pointing at her, "She shouldn't be on the streets of this city."

     He looks at her and I see the gentle smile fall from his face, "She really shouldn't. Follow me," And with that he stands up and walks purposefully toward her. I sigh and get up, following him to her.

     "Um. Hi?" She greets us with a certain amount of confusion mixed with a blooming teenage attitude.

     "Hello, miss! My friend and I," He stops and turns toward me, "At least I'm going to assume she's my friend since she followed me here," He returns his gaze to her. Her blond hair is tangled, thrown up into the messiest ponytail I have ever seen. She looks at him, one eyebrow raised as he continues, "Anyway, we happened to see you sitting over here all by yourself, in this cold. We were wondering if you would like a nice, warm, place to say."

     "Woah, woah, woah. Stop there. One, I can take care of myself, I don't need you people coming up to me and trying to help me. Two, I don't trust people I have just met, and three, I don't trust people who wear sunglasses in November when the clouds are covering the visible sky," She looks accusingly in my direction.

     "I am deeply sorry that I have offended you, miss. But I-" He tries, but she cuts him off.

     "Another thing. Quit calling me miss. Who in their right minds calls a homeless girl in an alley a miss?"

     I have always known myself to be a quite contained person, only getting angry after many, many reasons to be, however, I was done with this conversation and her tone, "Okay. Fine. We won't call you miss. He called you miss to be polite, so I expect you get that concept through your pretty little head. At least he was trying to be polite, while you just completely and utterly disrespected an older man. You should watch yourself, as being impolite will not benefit you in the slightest.

     "Now, I must say a few things about your previous statements. One, we are sure you are capable of handling yourself, and we were only trying to make that task a bit easier for you. You can either be grateful or you can continue with the impolite attitude you have been giving us so far, " Conner looks at me in surprise while the young girl just stares at me, her expression unreadable. If I really want to know what she is thinking, I could always take my glasses off, but I continue on, "Two, I understand you don't trust strangers. It's right that you don't. I am completely okay with that. And three, yes, I am wearing sunglasses on an overcast day in November. But that should not influence your decision on whether or not to trust me. Now, either accept this generous man's offer, or we will be on our way."

     I take a deep breath, refusing to take my eyes off of her. Letting her make her decision.

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