She had pale skin. Her veins clearly noticeable. She was shivering. Her big blue eyes staring at me. I reached out to touch her but she ran away before I could do anything. I ran after her yelling "Wait! Come back!" She didn't stop. She didn't even look back. She was a fast runner but I did my best to keep up. Then she finally fell. I ran up to her and she was holding her feet. They were full of blood. So were her arms and hands. Her dress was full of blood also. She looked up at me tears running down her cheeks. "Are you okay?" I asked taking my first aid kit out of my book bag. She made a couple moans. I looked up at her. Her jet black hair was hiding her face. She cried more. "It's okay. I'm here to help!" I yelled again. Then that’s when I knew she trusted me. She let her feet go and let me clean and bandage them. "Do you have a mom or dad? Any family?" I asked. She made a moan. I took that as a no. "Ill take you home. Okay?" I asked again. Did she understand English? Did she even know how to speak? I pick her up and let her head rest on my shoulder. She was so tiny; she had to be at least four. She silently sucked her thumb the way to my house. By time I got to the porch my mom saw me and dropped all of our Christmas decorations. "Who’s this?" She asked shocked looking at the girl. She looked scared and terrified. She was starting to breath heavy. "It's okay. It's just my mom." I whispered in her ear. Then I looked at my mom again. She looked more worried than angry. "I found her. She was crying under the bridge. I figured I should take her here. I mean, you'll help her right?" I asked giving her my puppy dog face. After a good two minutes of staring she finally nodded and told me to put her on the couch.
Running on Blood
November 17, 2010