Charity 30

Whispers of a Former Life: Episode 30

Alejandra couldn’t believe what she was looking at. 

She’d barely kicked off her shoes, the cheap sneakers squeaking against the warped floorboards of her tiny living room, when she’d dropped her battered plaid backpack onto the sagging couch, intending to rummage for her little treat, her reward for scrubbing floors, folding strangers’ clothes, and nodding politely while rich women forgot her name. 

She had been thinking about that first hit all the way from the bus stop: the sweetness on her tongue, the warm bloom behind her eyes that would chase away the day’s fatigue. She hadn’t expected anything more complicated than that. 

Instead, when she shook out her favorite hoodie, the same faded gray one she always balled up at the bottom of her bag, something small and soft had spilled out. Not lint, not a balled sock, not a hidden snack wrapper. Something alive. 

At first, her brain didn’t even want to name it. It just froze, suspended in that flickering second where sense could not keep pace with sight. Her eyes fixed on the tiny shape, sprawled across the broad plane of her thigh. She felt the slight weight of it through the thin cotton of her sweatpants, a delicate warmth, so small it might have been a trembling mouse if not for the unmistakable shape: human arms, tangled hair, clothes rumpled and dusty. 

And then the absurd topper: her joint, her stress-release, her end-of-day exhale, lying half crushed across the little body, pinning it helplessly to her leg like a heavy log across a stranded bug. 

Qué chingados. 

The words had slipped out unbidden, a sharp curse carried more by startled breath than intention. 

She didn’t move for a heartbeat, didn’t even breathe. A small, half-muffled sound rose from the tiny thing beneath the joint, and recognition slammed through her like a bucket of cold water. 

Charity. 

Charity Stevens. 

Miss “Are you even legal?” Miss “Don’t talk when adults are speaking.” Miss Patrona. 

Alejandra’s throat tightened around a laugh that didn’t come. Part of her wanted to fling the joint away, scoop up the little creature by the scruff, and pin her to her kitchen wall just to stare at her until she made sense. Another part, the older, softer, more careful part, only sat frozen, one big hand hovering above the tiny girl, uncertain whether to help or trap. 

She could hear her own heartbeat now, pounding hard and quick in her ears. The irony of it all made her chest squeeze painfully. How many times had she scrubbed that brat’s bathroom floor? Smiled through the sharp little digs about her accent? Stood quiet and invisible while Charity threw her wet towels on the marble counter, snapping for clean ones like she owned the world? 

And now… this. 

A girl so small Alejandra could close her fist and snuff her out, not that she would, but the thought tremored through her anyway, a raw, ancient sense of power. It scared her. It thrilled her too, and the guilt of that thrill twisted sharp in her gut. 

She picked up the joint thata had trapped Charity with slow precision, feeling the absurdity of how weightless it was in her fingers and yet how crushing it must have felt to the girl beneath it. Charity gasped, chest fluttering in tiny spasms like a trapped bird catching breath. 

Alejandra leaned back into the couch’s battered cushions, her free hand still hovering protectively, as if Charity might skitter away like a startled insect. But she didn’t. She just lay there, this once-fearsome queen of pointed words and pretty dresses, so small now that Alejandra’s palm could drown her whole world. 

She felt a surge of heat in her chest, not anger, not really pity either. Something messier. Something old. She thought of her mother, years ago, telling her: A veces, mija, el mundo da vueltas que no entiendes. Lo que sube, baja. What goes up, must come down. 

Well, here it was. 

Charity’s eyes cracked open, wide and glassy, staring up at her like she was a goddess or a demon, Alejandra wasn’t sure which. There was no sharpness left in that stare, no haughty up-and-down judgment, no silent command to go fetch more soap. Only a question trembling there: Will you hurt me? 

She realized then that Charity was trying to speak, a dry squeak that barely reached Alejandra’s ears. The sound made something behind her ribs ache unexpectedly. 

She took a drag off her joint, exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke away from Charity’s tiny form, and murmured softly, half to herself, half to the trembling speck on her leg: 

“Look at you, jefecita. So small now. So quiet. You’re not barking orders tonight, are you?” 

Her words weren’t cruel. They were raw truth, as soft as she could make them. She watched Charity’s mouth quiver soundlessly, fighting to gather the breath to beg or explain or just exist. 

Alejandra lifted her free hand at last, moving with a slow, deliberate care that felt unnatural to her normally quick fingers, and traced the air just above Charity’s tiny, sweat-damp hair. She didn’t touch her. Not yet. She needed to decide what this even was. A miracle? A curse? A punishment? 

She could feel her own pulse quicken again as she imagined it: her old boss, the spoiled girl she’d scrubbed after for so long, reduced to a trembling mouse in her lap. Power, that sly, intoxicating word, curled at the edge of her mind, but it terrified her too. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t Charity. 

Still, the moment demanded a truth spoken aloud, so she whispered it for only the walls to hear: 

“Qué mundo tan loco, eh? You thought you were so big. Now look at you, chiquitita. Now you need me more than ever.” 

And gently, so gently, she lifted her palm beneath Charity, ready at last to hold her fully, to feel the reality of this tiny, impossible weight in her hands. She would not drop her. She would not crush her. 

But neither would she pretend this changed nothing. 

 

Related Images:

0 0 votes
Article Rating
Subscribe
Notify of
guest

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

9 Comments
Oldest
Newest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
C M
C M
18 hours ago

Still feels ambiguous as to how Alejandra is going to deal with chairity, which I like. I’m still not sure how I feel about alejandra anyway so the slower the burn the more curious I get haha. What’d be wild is is she took her back to Mexico as an unregistered little at the end of the story.

Lee Han
Reply to  C M
17 hours ago

Honestly hoping for the same thing. She does seem to have some dark thoughts but definitely didn’t take it personally. Charity being her little is best case scenario. Away from Sarah and probably a good second chance. Al seems sympathetic and decent at the very least and doesn’t seem to hold a grudge. Charity seems to be capable of submission also. I think they’d be good for each other

washsnowghost
Reply to  C M
12 hours ago

I think the best bet is for her to go to geritech and tell them her deal and she wants help to be her guardian and of course receive her money and become a legal citizen the right way with investing in Geritech and having her own little. Geritech seems like a good company and if its legal and with its government connections i think could make it happen. Maybe help El set up charity as a breeder for Geritech lol
i looked it up on AI Gronk and its doable lol

Last edited 12 hours ago by washsnowghost
C M
C M
Reply to  Asukafan2001
6 hours ago

Oh shit is this another thing where lethal will accidentally decide the fate of a little? Lmao

Lethal Ledgend
10 hours ago

1) “her little treat, her reward for scrubbing floors, folding strangers’ clothes, and nodding politely while rich women forgot her name.” that does sound like something you’d need a reward after.

2) “Miss “Are you even legal?” Miss “Don’t talk when adults are speaking.” Miss Patrona.” Those are both very Charitycore quotes, though the latter also reminds me of when Sara told Jordan “You should be seen and not heard in these situations” in 235 yet another of their many similarities.

3) “Part of her wanted to fling the joint away, scoop up the little creature by the scruff, and pin her to her kitchen wall just to stare at her until she made sense” I would like to see that part.

4) “How many times had she scrubbed that brat’s bathroom floor? Smiled through the sharp little digs about her accent? Stood quiet and invisible while Charity threw her wet towels on the marble counter, snapping for clean ones like she owned the world?” Very much a Charity thing to do.

5) “A veces, mija, el mundo da vueltas que no entiendes. Lo que sube, baja. What goes up, must come down” Well, that’s not true, I can think of ton’s of characters for whom it won’t come down, Sara and Mia for example, and more in other stories or even the real world.

6) “Look at you, jefecita. So small now. So quiet. You’re not barking orders tonight, are you?” I’m sure she’ll try before you part ways.

7) “She needed to decide what this even was. A miracle? A curse? A punishment?” Whatever it ends up being for her it won’t be for Charity.

8) “Power, that sly, intoxicating word, curled at the edge of her mind, but it terrified her too. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t Charity.” I could see how this power could corrupt her, Charity isn’t collared or chipped, or even known to have shrunk… no one would ever know.

9) “Qué mundo tan loco, eh? You thought you were so big. Now look at you, chiquitita. Now you need me more than ever.” Great time to rub salt in the wound

10) “She would not drop her. She would not crush her. But neither would she pretend this changed nothing.” Oh, she’s making plans.