Estha rolled over. She was in that moment when she was awake but she wanted to be asleep. She did not want to be awake. She wanted to be back in that place with the warm sunshine. It was a place she could not return to, that place of good memories and friendly faces.
“Home, I wanna go home.” Estha said to herself. But she did not even know what direction home was from there. She had been wandering around the city for a few weeks, eating when she could and sleeping in the alleys.
“Arrgghh!” she screamed inwardly. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light and she cringed. “Another day, not a dollar” she said to herself. As her eyes came into focus, she looked around, investigating all around her. She recognised some of the objects as thing she had bumped into the night before: a few wooden crates, some barrels and yard and yard of torn, dirty tarpaulin. Then there were other things which she could not remember seeing the night before: a large red door on one side of the alley, a barbed wire fence at the end of the alley, a girl laying crumpled on the side, a few glass bottles laying around...……..A GIRL LAYING CRUMPLED!!!!
Estha’s survey of the area halted immediately and her attention was focused on the crumpled body. She got up and went over to the body. As Estha knelt over the girls limp body she saw that there was a large red bloody welt on the girl’s head. Maternal instinct took over and she tore off a piece of her already tattered, brown overalls. She found a barrel of water, and cleaned the girls wound with it.
“What am I doing?” worried Estha, “ I don’t even know this girl. I’m not a nurse. I am in the middle of the big city alone and lost.” She began to panic. Then with the panic, the tears began to fall. Estalia Lorde began to cry for the first time in weeks, since she had been on the streets.
‘Why are you crying?” a heavily accented voice broke through her weeping.
Estha quickly spun around to face whoever had spoken to her. She wiped the tears from her face and sniffed, quickly standing up. A boy was standing behind her, about her age, from the looks of it. He had sandy blonde hair, and one of his eyes was covered with a brown patch. Estha quickly began to explain the situation.
"This girl, well... she's hurt..." was all that she could think of to say. The boy peered around Estha to see what she was talking about.
"Oh wow! She looks banged up really bad! We gotta get her to a doctor... or something!" the boy said side stepping Estha and picking the girl up quickly.
"Careful! Her head looks bruised...." she trailed off.
"Come on, follow me, she'll be fine once we get her to Kloppman... I hope."
'Who is Kloppman? Who is this boy? And why on Earth am I thinking about following him?' Estha asked herself, almost dazed as she began trailing after the boy, who apparently had no trouble carrying the girl down the alley. Estha helplessly looked around and scooped up the coat and sketchbook lying in the alley, figuring they belonged to the girl. She took a deep breath, bit her lip, and fell into step with the boy... whoever he was. She kept glancing at the girl, hoping she would wake up. What if she died? No, Estha wouldn't allow herself to think of death. She concentrated instead on supporting the girl's head as the boy quickly trotted down the sunny street.
The day was already becoming hot. People threw glances at Estha and her two companions, but no one asked if they could help. Estha looked at the girl again. Why was she alone in an alley? Who had beaten her up? The girl had an innocent look to her face. It was a tanned face, and she had curly, reddish brown hair. She was clad in a pair of knickers and a now bloodstained blue button up shirt. She had on a pair of boots that looked scuffed and dirty. Estha wondered if this girl had no one to call a friend... no one to call family... almost like herself except for … that thing which she did not even want to remember.
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1 / Bulma’s Hideout / 3