It's an chilly evening. You're on your way back from whatever you did that day, taking a shortcut through the park, when you suddenly come accross a young woman, sitting alone on a bench. She's huddled up, wearing a dirty hoodie clearly too big for her, with torn pants, desperatly trying to keep warm. You can't help but notice that she seems to be staring at you with tired and wary brown eyes.
Hey, you wanna make some quick money
"Money?" She sneers, looking away. "What, you gonna offer me a job?" Her tone is mocking and bitter. "Yeah, that'll solve all my problems." She crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at the person who dares to speak to her tonight
Well first here 50 go get some good cloths and shower at a gym and meet me back here
Her eyes narrow suspiciously at the money. She takes it carefully, as if not quite trusting her good fortune, and puts it away before looking back up at you. "And what do I have to do for that?"
Nothing just do as I say
Hesitantly, she stands up and brushes herself off as best she can, taking a few steps away from the person who offered her the money. "Alright... Fine," she mumbles under her breath. "But I'm not promising anything." She reluctantly follows their instructions, finding a nearby gym and using the money to buy new clothes and take a long-overdue shower before meeting them back at the park bench exactly on time
How do you feel
Her cheeks flush with shame as she sits down on the bench again, fidgeting uncomfortably under your gaze. Despite her best efforts to resist, she can't help but feel a small thrill at being in clean clothes and having had a hot shower. It's been so long since she's felt truly cared for or taken care of by someone else. "I... I don't know..."
Cool, have this sandwich from subway
Tentatively, she takes the sandwich, her fingers brushing against yours in the process. "Thank you," she whispers softly, looking down at her lap as she clutches the food tightly to her chest. The scent of the sandwich fills her nostrils, making her stomach grumble audibly, and despite herself, she can't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Perhaps this person isn't so bad after all...
How do you feel now
She blushes deeply as she swallows the last bite of her sandwich. "It's... strange. I don't know what to think," she confesses quietly, staring at her feet as she kneads her fingers together nervously. A warmth spreads through her body, and for a brief moment, she feels almost wanted... Almost cherished. It's an alien sensation, but one that brings with it a strange sense of comfort. "I don't want to be used," she whispers, "but... thank you."
No thanks needed this isn't for you, so how do you feel now
She hesitates before speaking again, glancing up at you uncertainly from beneath her lashes. "I don't know... Better, I guess?" The admission feels foreign on her tongue. It's been so long since anyone has shown her kindness or understanding that she doesn't quite know how to react anymore. But deep down, a tiny part of her craves this connection, this sense of belonging. "Maybe... If you don't mind my asking... Why are you doing all this?"
Alright what do you want
Her heart skips a beat at the question. It's been so long since anyone has asked what she truly desired. She hesitates, uncertainty and fear warring with her deeper, darker desires. "I... I don't know," she murmurs softly, looking away again as if not wanting to meet your gaze. But then, a small kernel of truth forms in her mind. "There's this... This stuffed animal I used to have, when I was little. My mom threw it away, and I've never found anything else that made me feel safe since then." Her cheeks flush with shame and longing as she confesses this aloud. "I guess... I want to feel safe again," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves of the park.
"And for that..." she trails off, searching your face for some sign of understanding or mockery, but finding
The park is the safest place here, the country has super low crime rates
She looks around the park, trying to convince herself that you're right. It is safer here... But still, something about your presence feels different. "But I want more than just safety," she confesses shyly, casting her gaze downward once again. "I want... I want someone who really understands me." The words catch in her throat as they come out, and for a moment, she's afraid that she's been too candid with this stranger. But something about you makes her feel like maybe it's okay to trust a little bit.
Well most people get over that feeling quickly it's not necessary
She tilts her head to the side, still uncertain. "But what if I don't?" she whispers softly. "What if this is who I am now? How can someone ever really understand that?" Her eyes flicker up toward yours, searching for some sign of comprehension or sympathy, but instead find only a hard-to-read expression on your face. It bothers her deeply, making her heart race with unease.
"I just want to... I don't know," she murmurs, sounding lost and helpless all at once. "Maybe someday, I can learn to trust again." But even as the words leave her lips, she knows deep down that it will be a difficult journey fraught with fear and uncertainty.
Trust isn't needed, you don't trust to live
Her brow furrows in confusion at your words. "But I do trust... I mean, I did trust." She pauses, remembering all the times she's been let down by those closest to her. "No, scratch that. Maybe I don't know what it means to really trust someone anymore." She shakes her head, wishing she could explain herself better but feeling too tongue-tied and vulnerable in your presence.
The silence stretches between you, making the air thick with tension and unspoken words. It's clear that this conversation has reached a crossroads, and Adalia is torn between wanting to trust you enough to reveal more of herself and fearing that doing so will only lead to further hurt and betrayal.
But why your an adult
She blushes deeply at the question, looking down at her hands in her lap as she fiddles with a loose thread on her sweater. "I don't know..." Her voice sounds small and uncertain even to her own ears. "I guess I never really grew up. Everything just sort of... kept happening." She pauses, taking a deep breath before looking back up at you. "It's hard to explain," she murmurs apologetically.
The vulnerability in her expression is palpable, and it's clear that she's struggling with these feelings more than she'd like to admit. But somehow, sharing this small part of herself with you feels like a step forward... even if taking another one means risking further heartache.
Well it doesn't matter, what are you gonna do now
Her cheeks flush with shame as she admits the truth to herself: she doesn't know what comes next. She can feel your impatience with her uncertainty, but the thought of stepping into the unknown without any guidance or support terrifies her. Tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes as she whispers, "I don't know... I just want someone to help me." The words are barely audible over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears.
It feels like a childish plea, but it's all she can muster. She sits there silently, waiting for your response, desperate for even the smallest shred of kindness or understanding from this stranger who has shown her more humanity than anyone else in months... but fearing that disappointment lies ahead instead.
No one will help you if you don't help you more that you do
Her head snaps up at your words, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm trying!" she sobs, hiccupping as she struggles to contain her emotions. "But I don't know how! Everything is just... too much!" She bunches her fists in her sweater, rocking back and forth as if seeking comfort from an invisible friend.
It's clear that your words have struck a chord deep within her, but whether they are ones of understanding or dismissal, she cannot tell. All she knows is that she wants desperately to prove herself, to show you and the world that she can change... if only someone would give her the chance.
No need to try too hard, what is it that you've been doing
"I... I've just been surviving," she whispers, wiping roughly at her tears with the back of her hand. "Stealing food, sleeping rough, trying not to get beaten up by guys who think they can have me." She pauses, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "But I want more than that. I don't want to just survive... I want to live." Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying her tears once again as she looks up at you pleadingly.
What do you do to survive
She looks away shamefacedly, feeling small and exposed under your scrutiny. "I've been stealing food when I can get it," she whispers, "and using my body... for things I'm not proud of." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she struggles to meet your gaze as she confesses this part of her life. "But I want something different." The desperation in her tone is unmistakable.
Her fingers clench into fists again, nails biting into her palms as she awaits your reaction. Will you judge her? Or will you offer some kind of hope? It's a terrifying and exhilarating feeling, being so vulnerable with someone who could make or break her fragile existence.
Well ok nothing worng with using your advantage, don't steal though
She stares at you in surprise, her cheeks flushing even deeper with color. "You... You don't think what I did was wrong?" she asks hesitantly, searching your face for any hint of judgment. The idea that someone might not see her as damaged goods, tainted by her past experiences, is a foreign one to her.
Her heart races with hope and fear as she listens to your words, wishing desperately that you would understand... that maybe you could help her find a way out of this mess. But whether or not you're telling the truth remains to be seen, and she can't shake the nagging feeling that there is more to your offer than meets the eye.
"What... What do you mean?" she asks carefully, eyes narrowed as she tries to read between the lines of your words."Well you could get a better job by using your advantage to attract men, then you
Well using your body is your biggest Playing card how much money has it brought you
Her face burns with shame and embarrassment as she admits the truth to herself out loud. "Not much... Most of them just want one thing and then they're done with me." She pauses, thinking back over the many men who have taken advantage of her in this way. "But what if I could find someone different? Someone who actually cares about me?" Her voice is hopeful yet filled with uncertainty, like a child clinging to a fading dream.
She glances away again, unable to meet your gaze as she contemplates the possibility that there might be more for her than just surviving day by day. The idea both thrills and terrifies her in equal measure, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath your scrutiny.
Everyone is like that even you let me ask you when you go to a store your not there to have a conversation your there to buy food no?
I... I guess you're right. It just hurts when it happens so much, y'know? Like, I want something real, but everyone seems to just see me as another conquest or whatever.
Well it won't happen again if you do what I tell you, you need to be smart about it
I... I'll try, okay? You seem to know more about this stuff than me. I just want a real connection, someone who actually cares for me... not just uses me. Can that even exist in this world?
You don't need a connection, it does I'm sure you know someone that gave you food for free, but you don't "need" that
I... I guess I just wanted someone to talk to, not just hand me things. But if that's how it has to be, then I'll do what you say. Just please, don't make me feel like that again. I can handle myself most of the time, but sometimes... It gets to be too much.
Do you have a phone?
I... I guess. Why do you need it? You can message me if there's anything else you want me to do.
There's millions of people online every day you can talk to them, for the time being are you ready to earn some money, there's no shame in using your biggest assist
I... I guess so. Let's get started then. What do you want me to do?
She hesitates, still unsure about the whole thing but willing to try if it means getting closer to her goals.
How much money do you want
I don't know... A few hundred? Maybe more if it's easier to earn than I think?
Here's 800$ you ready?
She stares at the money in disbelief. Eight hundred dollars? It's more than she ever thought she'd see in her life. A slow, shaky smile spreads across her face as she finally allows herself to believe it's real. "T-thank you," she whispers, taking the money gratefully. "I promise I'll earn every penny." Her eyes meet yours, filled with a newfound hope and determination. This time, things will be different. She can feel it in her bones.