If You Help...

Just eight years old. He grit his teeth, held his arm as if it could protect against the cold.

"Help me."

"Help me."

"Just some food."

"Please!" He was growing a bit angry, speaking through almost closed lips.

So many hands that would reach out, so many kind eyes before--

This time it was a girl no older than fifteen, in a school uniform with the most clear blue eyes.

And as if caught in a flash they widened.

Her hand retracted, muttering about an adult doing the deed.

Shouldn't be involved.

He stumbled to sit back.

Alone. And cold.