Pega

Light, like darkness, is important to the general function of the universe. That is why, when anything tilts the balance of the worlds into either favor, something needs to be done to right the balance. Sometimes this is a small thing. Sometimes it is large.

*

Sharla walked down the alley, trying to avoid the thugs and muggers the best she could. She was making her way home from work, and if anyone caught her today, she'd be whoring herself again for another week before she'd save up the same amount of money that was currently in her pocket. It wasn't far, was a thought that regularly came into her mind, but today she avoided it in favor of, "Don't catch me."

She turned a corner and heard the sound of gunshots. Darting into a darker nitch in the wall, she glanced around in every direction, trying to see if anyone was daring to come down her alley. No sounds, no movements, her whole body was tense and she tried not to feel afraid.

After several minutes, a police car siren came within earshot. It passed her by harmlessly and she breathed a sigh of relief. Not her, not this time. She looked around carefully and slipped out, moving once more towards home.

Two more blocks, she had just two more blocks to go. If only the distance between work and home was less, if only he would pay her on a daily, or even weekly, basis. Instead, he insisted on paying every two weeks, cash as she asked him for. Sometimes, if he was drunk, he would insist on paying monthly instead of every other week. She hated those months the most. It always made her dash for home, skulking in corners, trying to avoid being seen in the hopes that she would make it to her landlord and pay him before she had to work the streets.

One more block. She could see the lights in the windows ahead. The apartment was all she had. Not much, not enough really, but she had to make do with it. She tried not to look like she had a destination. They got you less often if you seemed to be aimlessly wandering. She wasn't very good at looking nonchalant. It was something she tried to do, but not something she succeeded at.

She heard a scuffle to the side of her, a knife shhicking open, and a low voice. "Alright, empty out your pockets, and you keep your life." She stopped, turned, and tried not to cry. It had to happen to her, didn't it?

When she looked to the side though, she was surprised to see that she was not the one who was being mugged. It was a boy, maybe 17 or 18, wearing a light blue shirt and a pair of jeans. He blinked at the man and shook his head. The man walked closer, brandishing his knife. "Gimme your money I said." She should run, leave the area, not be seen around this. If only common sense worked in cases like this. She couldn't stop looking at the boy, as if there was something familiar about him she needed to place.

The boy held out his hands, reached up to his neck, and pointed to a long scar that traced his throat. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. She carefully moved towards the darker side of the road and slipped into the shadows. She couldn't leave, but she could hide. The man shook his head.

"You bein' unable to speak only makes things easier for me. Just give me your money!" The hand was shaking the knife at the boy and she wondered if he was beginning to get scared. The newer ones did, and he didn't seem like a pro at this to her. The boy tried to speak again, and the man shook even more.

"Just give me your money already!" he said loudly, and he moved forward, reaching for the boy's pockets.

"Look out!" Sharla called, a panic in her voice. The man was going to kill the boy. She could see that. The boy looked up at her, caught her eyes, and smiled. It was beautiful, like the sky right after a rain shower. Something so bright and brilliant that she knew she'd never see anything quite so lovely again for the rest of her life.

The knife slid home, up into the stomach, and the man fumbled with the pockets, taking a wallet out and then taking his knife and bolted down the alley. Blood was soaking the blue shirt, and Sharla looked around. There was no way anyone would be able to get to him on time. She dashed closer and crouched next to him.

"You're going to be alright, I'm going to call the ambulance," Sharla said, and the boy shook his head. "No, you'll be fine," she made to stand up, but he stopped her, reaching a hand out and grabbing her sleeve, pulling her back down. "What?" she asked urgently, looking around. She couldn't be caught next to him or she'd be suspect for his injuries.

*Don't go, we have so much to talk about.* Sharla looked around. Who was talking to her? She looked back at the boy.

"I have to go or you'll die."

*I won't die. I've searched for so long for you, I won't let you go until we've talked.* She looked into his eyes again, and knew, somehow, that he was speaking to her. That the voice not coming out of his mouth was coming directly into her head.