Allie remained silent, her lips pursed as they walked. As they made their way toward their destination, she thought about everything he’d mentioned. He was right, but there was no way she’d ever admit that, especially not to a stranger, even if he did save her life. She walked with her arms crossed, the blanket pulled tight over her shoulders.
As they entered the motel room, Allie quickly claimed a bed after flicking on the light. It had been days since she slept on a cot in a shelter, even longer since an actual bed. She sat on the edge, watching the mysterious man in the dim lighting. “You know, I do worry about not having the supplies, about getting an infection, about money. I worry about it all.” Allie’s voice was very matter-of-fact, and her eyes didn’t meet his, but practically bore a hole in the wall. “But that burn? That burn was going to grant me undeniable access to shelters, at least until it was healed. That would have given me a chance to shower on a regular basis, maybe even find a job and get the ball rolling. So yes, it would have been the cause of so much worry. But it also had the chance to open so many doors.”
Once they were in the room, he walked straight back to the bathroom, retrieving a towel and then sitting down on a chair. He pulled his pant leg up, pressing the towel to the bloodied, burned skin as he listened to the woman speak. His reply was a simple, “I know.” Because he did know. He had grown up living hand to mouth, struggling to make ends meet for both him and his father, always trying to prepare for the inevitably illness, or injury, or extra expense that could put them under.
Which was why, as the woman explained that the wound that he took was her long-term ticket into a shelter, he put the towel down and grabbed the room’s small pad of paper and pen. He wrote down a name and address, ripping off the sheet and then passing it to her. “There’s a church on 5th.” One that regularly hid mutants, and was run by a pastor who was as good a man as he’d ever met. “You can get the same help there, and you don’t need the burn to get it. I just need to make a call.”
Allie was taken aback when the man said he knew. “What do you mean ‘you know’? How could you possibly know?” She asked as her fingers found the smooth skin that had been previously covered in a burn. How did he take her burn? So many questions flew through her mind and his words pulled her from her thoughts. She took the paper and held it between two fingers.
She stared at the man’s handwriting, and part of her wanted to ignore the man but she knew he was trying to help. She hated when people tried to help her. She was a grown woman, and she could take care of herself. “Why-” Allie started, wanting to ask why he was helping her, but stopped herself, accepting the help. “Thank you. For helping. I know you could have ignored me, but you didn’t. So…thanks.”
