F
Flannel&Leather
Guest
Original poster
The sun beat down over the crowd of people who moved through the street. They had all found themselves in the alley of some street vendors. The carts and set up shops seemed to be vivid of colors and smells. People moved through quickly and it was easy to spot tourist versus who was raised or had made Mexico their home. A petite girl made her way through the crowd. She had been from La Paz, Mexico. But, she had left her home and there were no parts of her that was looking back. Her skin was lightly tanned with light grey eyes. Her hair had held a color of almost white, so it was a little hard for her not to stick out like a sore thumb. She had been running from her father. She had been so scared of him and she was so afraid that no matter where she went that he would find her. It had been a couple of days since she had left and she had been out of money. She no longer had a place to sleep and the thought made her skin crawl that she would need to sleep on the ground.
She wore a pair of black shorts and a small white t-shirt that clung to her. Her feet covered with a small pair of slip-on sneakers. She could feel her stomach growling and she so badly wanted food. She had wondered if she could get away with grabbing something from a cart and no one noticing. She bit her lip as she weaved in and out of the crowd watching people. She wanted to see what cart was the busiest, so no one would bother her.
She had not thought about the consequences of just running from home. She was only twenty and she had no money and no place to go. But, from the age of eleven, her father abused her mentally and physically up until the day she left. He had threatened her hours before she left. She could still hear his voice in her head Camila you'll always stay here and if you run I will kill you. She knew if she stayed he would kill her also. Her legs had bruises patchworked over them as well as her arms. There had been a cut just under her eyes and one through her bottom lip. All she had ever wanted was someone to take care of her, but she never had that.
Camila finally spotted a cart full of fruit where people seemed crowded around. The closest thing was apples and she could feel the pain in her stomach. She tried to move in between people. Her hand reached through and grabbed a red apple. When she started to pull back she felt a large hand grasp her wrist and she looked up to see a large man holding her. "Are you going to pay for that?" he almost growled at her and she felt like she was shaking.
She wore a pair of black shorts and a small white t-shirt that clung to her. Her feet covered with a small pair of slip-on sneakers. She could feel her stomach growling and she so badly wanted food. She had wondered if she could get away with grabbing something from a cart and no one noticing. She bit her lip as she weaved in and out of the crowd watching people. She wanted to see what cart was the busiest, so no one would bother her.
She had not thought about the consequences of just running from home. She was only twenty and she had no money and no place to go. But, from the age of eleven, her father abused her mentally and physically up until the day she left. He had threatened her hours before she left. She could still hear his voice in her head Camila you'll always stay here and if you run I will kill you. She knew if she stayed he would kill her also. Her legs had bruises patchworked over them as well as her arms. There had been a cut just under her eyes and one through her bottom lip. All she had ever wanted was someone to take care of her, but she never had that.
Camila finally spotted a cart full of fruit where people seemed crowded around. The closest thing was apples and she could feel the pain in her stomach. She tried to move in between people. Her hand reached through and grabbed a red apple. When she started to pull back she felt a large hand grasp her wrist and she looked up to see a large man holding her. "Are you going to pay for that?" he almost growled at her and she felt like she was shaking.