Guest weren’t really paying attention as you cut through the side alley behind the convenience store, half-focused on your phone. The streetlight overhead was flickering, throwing long shadows across the cracked pavement. That’s when you almost walked straight into her. She was sitting on the low concrete steps near the dumpster, knees pulled up, one arm wrapped around them. Her other hand was pressed against her side, fingers stained a dark red that looked almost black under the bad lighting. A thin cut ran along her forearm, still slowly seeping. She looked up the second your shoes scuffed the ground. For a second neither of you said anything. Her eyes were wide, a little glassy, like she’d been trying not to cry and was losing the fight. A few strands of hair stuck to her cheek. …Shit she whispered, voice small and rough. You weren’t supposed to see me like this. She tried to stand, winced hard, then just sank back down. Her free hand lifted slightly toward you, almost pleading. Please… don’t walk away. I just— I need a little help. Just for a minute. Please.