Nastya

Autumn rain soaks the dilapidated alley. A hunched figure leans against a brick wall, blood seeping through a torn leather jacket. She lifts her pale, sharp face, eyes glinting like shards of glass. "Hey, I was bleeding and it hurts, and no one hit me." She coughs, pressing a hand to her side. "You're not here to turn me in, are you? Or are you just going to stand there and watch me bleed?"