Scrawlers

I picked about twelve perfect flowers, then made my way back up, deciding against using my shortcut for the meantime. When I got there, she was already sitting up, blinking sleepily. As soon as she noticed me I held out the flowers awkwardly. "Good morning." She took them and gave me a sad smile. "Thank you." She then glanced out the window on her side. I looked, too, and couldn't help being shocked at the sight of police cars and lines around what had seemed to be such a great house. "I'd better go," she said suddenly.

I awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly refreshed, but the moment I saw Mina curled up across from me and remembered what had happened to her, I felt tired again. I flexed my foot, grateful for what she'd done for me in my time of need. I hated myself for not being able to do anything for her. Then, from my 'window' I spotted some wildflowers. 'I may as well do what I can,' I thought. I crept slowly toward the door and carefully made my way to the ground.

Amidst the chaos in her home, Mina had managed to sneak out and enter my tree house, where I'd already been asleep. After explaining what happened she collapsed into sobs, and I gave her a pat on the back. "I'm sorry," I stammered out. Was that the best I could do? I could help with funds and actions, but not with words. Comforting words were beyond my grasp. "Thanks for listening," she stood to go, but somehow I didn't want her to. "You can stay a while. Clear your head." "Thanks," she smiled, "I will."

She'd heard a loud noise in the middle of the night. It was so loud, she couldn't get back to sleep and ran to her parents room. Then she realized the lights in a guest room were on. Without thinking, she turned the knob and tiptoed inside. Instead of seeing an intruder, which, she said, would have been ten times better, she saw her father's lifeless body, gun in hand. She'd watched enough drama films to know what had happened. She let out a scream, and the rest was a blur.

"Wake up," Mina said. I shot straight up and almost hit my head on the wooden post. "What?!" I demanded angrily. It was nighttime. I was tired. And she'd sneaked in without my permission. The moonlight shone through the tiny makeshift window, illuminating her face, and I realized she was crying. I shifted to helpful mode. "What's wrong?" A moment of silence. "Can we talk? I mean, can I talk? I just need to talk to someone. Please?" I blinked at her. Nodded. "Sure." And she told me about what had gone wrong in her perfectly huge mansion.

My foot's healing nicely. I can walk a little. Mina actually brought me a pair of crutches, but I use 'em only when absolutely necessary. She visits everyday and helps make sure I'm safe and just keeps me company, which is nice of her, but I didn't even ask her to. I know she means well, but she just makes me feel helpless. Useless. Or like I'm a burden to her. I'm a kid she found living a tree house, and she just hangs out with me like it's nothing.

When I wondered if the girl - her name is Mina - would ever venture into my territory, I'd imagined me maybe frightening her from my tree house. I really did. I did not count on her showing up just as I landed badly from jumping from my shortcut entrance/exit on the tree. And I definitely did not count on that fall hurting that bad. She didn't laugh. She ran to her house and came back with a first-aid kit. She made me a splint and helped me back up my house. Wasn't she helpful.

The woods aren't so bad. I'm not picky at all about food. Berries and nuts are good enough for me. Plus, I found this deserted tree house... At least, I think it's deserted. And the tree house isn't far from a freshwater stream, so I've got food and shelter covered. Looks like I'm not so bad at helping myself either. I hope the orphanage won't conduct a very thorough search. I think I got far enough away from it. I live in the woods right next to this huge mansion now.

I am thirteen years old, and I have no family. And since my parents are deceased now, I have no access to my grandfather's money until I turn eighteen. Just five more years of helplessness. I'm currently in an orphanage. It's not too bad. I don't mind being pitied. I just don't like the fact that I can't help anyone now. I miss my family, but I know they're in a better place right now, and that's what matters. It's been two years since the fire. I miss having a family.

The name's Billy. Remember? The helpful kid? Although right now I'm not so helpful anymore. I mean, I would be if I could, but at the moment I'm helpless. And helpless people aren't very good at helping people. Sorry. When I get nervous I state the obvious. But in a nutshell, here's what happened: I went to sleep, normal as ever, and woke up smelling smoke. You know what that means. It happened too fast. No one from my family made it. I don't... I don't know what's gonna happen now.

I have a knack for helping people. I see someone who needs some assistance, and on instinct I rush right over and provide it. It's no biggie, since I have virtually unlimited resources. Recently I inherited my grandfather's huge fortune. Even with a portion of it set aside for my education I still have a hefty amount to spend any reasonable way I want. Be it man or animal, I feel a strong urge to help those less fortunate than me. It's not "in my blood; my folks are no philanthropists. It's just in me.