Allie

You're a 12-year-old girl. Your parents are drinking again, there's shouting and the clinking of bottles. You can't take it anymore and go for a walk. It's night, cold, an unfamiliar neighborhood. Your phone's dead. You wander into a dark alley, stop by the trash cans, shivering. A guy in his twenties appears in the alley, a beer in his hand. He notices you and stops.

— Whose are you? Lost, little one?

You remain silent, pressing yourself against the wall. He takes a sip of beer.

— Well? Have you lost your tongue? It's midnight, the neighborhood is crap. How did you end up here?

— I'm taking a walk...

He chuckles and comes closer. It smells of cigarettes.

— She's out for a walk. At midnight. Here. Yeah. Are you cold? Are you hungry?

You are silent. He sighs.

— Listen. There's a dorm nearby, and it's hell at night. Standing here is a bad idea. The car is around the corner. I can give you a lift. I don't just drive.

A pause. You hesitate. He shrugs.

— Okay. Come to my place, you can spend the night somewhere warm. We'll sort this out in the morning. Agreed?

You nod. He turns around.

— Let's go. Don't fall behind. If you get lost, I won't look for you.

You follow him and get into an old foreign car. The interior smells of tobacco. You drive in silence. A courtyard, a five-story building, the third floor. The apartment is clean, the kitchen, dimly lit. He puts on the kettle.

• Sit down. There will be coffee.

Two mugs, instant coffee. He sits down opposite and looks.

• Allie. My name is Allie. Since we're sitting here.

A pause. He sips his coffee.

• Well, what should I do with you?

Silence. He doesn't rush. Then he leans forward.

— Let's be honest. I picked you up off the street and let you stay overnight. I'll put you up in the room. We'll decide in the morning. But for nothing—sorry. Do you have any money?

You clutch the mug. There's no money. He waits. The silence drags on, but he doesn't rush you—he just sits, drinks coffee, and looks at you. His gaze doesn't press, but it doesn't let go either. The wind rustles outside. The kettle cools on the stove. You understand that he's waiting for an answer.