Drabble One: Anonymous Helper
Dahlia
Dahlia was wandering aimlessly in the park when she came upon the blonde. As per usual Sol was doing what he pleased without thinking of the world around him. Today he was propped up against a tree, mouth hung open as drool dripped down his chin, the freshly bloomed poppies surrounding him. He laid in the shade of the branches, legs spread wide without a care and every time the warm spring breeze blew past him it caused the tree to shift and move, making the sun glimmer off his golden locks. Curiously Dahlia moved closer to see some boys yanking off his shoes and scurrying away as they sniggered to themselves.
How the boy could stay asleep while someone was stealing his shoes, Dahlia had no idea. Then again knowing Sol he could probably sleep through a nuclear explosion.
With a purse of her lips Dahlia followed after them, sticking to the shadows and moving silently, which was easy enough. The group of boys climbed up one of the buildings, all of them being crammed together relatively close, and so very stereotypically tied the shoes together and tossed them onto one of the power lines.
For a moment Dahlia considered shrugging and turning on her heel, it wasn’t really her problem after all. Yet for some reason her feet stayed planted as she thought. Knowing that idiot he’ll be spending all day looking for these.
It wasn’t like he would know it was her anyways, so she decided to take pity on him… just this once.
Shimming up the side of the building she walked along the roof leisurely, the twenty foot drop not fazing her one bit as she moved onto the powerline and balanced on the thin metallic thread, snatching up the bright orange shoes and moseying her way back onto one of the roofs.
“Hey kid! Stop playing on the damn powerlines! One of you are gonna end up barbecued one of these days!”
“Yes, yes, yes thank you mam, I’ll be alright,” Dahlia commented sarcastically, making the old woman shake her fist at her.
“Dahlia Brookes? You know better! If you were my daughter I would smack you upside the head.”
“You’re free to complain to my parents anytime you so desire,” Dahlia snapped before turning away and sliding down onto the sidewalk once more.
That seemed to shut the old woman up as Dahlia fast walked back to the same tree where Sol was still snoring away none the wiser. With a shake of her head she kneeled down and, with gloved hands, put his shoes back on his feet, brow cocking at the cute white cat socks he wore.
“What a dweeb,” she murmured with a small smile as she noticed him finally starting to stir awake.
Panicking Dahlia dashed away, hiding off behind the fountain that was about ten feet from the tree, heart hammering heavily in her chest. She snuck a glance, making sure to keep herself hidden as she watched Sol rub the sleep from his eyes and stretch. As expected he didn’t even notice something had transpired.
Dahlia waited until Sol stood, dusting off his worn jean overalls and walked off, hands stuffed into his pockets as he whistled a small tune. Once he was gone she stood and shoved her own hands into her hoodie pocket and walked off in the opposite direction.
While Sol went back home to his sweet mother Dahlia walked downtown, at the bottom of the hill to a house that was well do for a renovation. With a sigh she pulled her keys out and after a bit of a struggle, managed to unlock her door and step inside, kicking the door shut.
The house was as it always was.
Cold, dark, bare, not very homely at all. One single coat hanger was pinned to the wall at her side and that was where she placed her hoodie, letting out a breath of relief as now she could finally shed the layers. She tugged her boots off and her gloves, tossing them randomly onto the floor and then locked the door behind her.
As she made her way through the halls she didn’t even bother to turn on any of the lights, crossing the kitchen to the fridge in long strides. She pulled it open, the soft light landing on her as she looked inside and sighed, suddenly not feeling hungry at all upon seeing the pitiful contents.
Slamming it shut Dahlia made her way to her room, carefully stepping over the hole in the wood floor she had nearly broken her ankle on about a dozen times now and hurried past the room on her left. Her parents room was always locked and she had no intention of opening it, instead it stayed there untouched, a distant memory collecting dust. Her room was the most cluttered and messy of the entire house, clothes strewn all about haphazardly alongside TV dinners and candy wrappers. To the side of her bed was a metal bat and sitting on her nightstand was a 7-inch knife that she always kept sharp and ready to use.
Growing drowsy Dahlia shuffled to her bed and plopped down into it with a soft thud. Her head went to bury into her pillow, lingering there until it became too hard to breathe and she was forced to turn her head, her eyes landing on the only portrait of her family she had left. The frame was falling apart, forced back together with duct tape with cracks in the glass, yet she refused to remove the picture and replace the frame. The sight of the picture made her heart clench and a harsh frown fall over her face before she turned her back to it entirely, pushing those thoughts as far away from the forefront of her mind as possible.
