Charity could still taste the greasy residue of egg on her tongue, salt, oil, and shame all mixing in the corners of her mouth. She sat bundled halfway inside Alejandra’s old hoodie, half-hidden in its tunnel of soft, worn cotton, peeking out at a world that dwarfed her so completely she could barely convince herself it was real.
The coffee table loomed around her like a vast wooden plain. The ceramic plate lay near her feet, smeared with cooling yolk and flecks of tortilla, scraps by Alejandra’s measure, but a meal that had filled her tiny stomach to the point of slight pain. She hugged her knees tighter, letting the heavy sleeve of the hoodie pool around her like a sleeping bag.
God, how did it come to this?
Just a day ago, she would have turned up her nose at fried eggs slapped on a tortilla. Her father’s kitchen ran like a Michelin star machine, a chef on retainer, a nutritionist’s weekly check-ins, imported olive oil and delicate salmon flown in overnight. She hadn’t known hunger because hunger was for other people. For people like… Alejandra.
Charity squeezed her eyes shut against the thought, but the truth pressed against her temples like a migraine:
I am those people now.
A click and soft whir made her flinch, Alejandra’s old laptop, the one perched crooked on the battered side table. She heard the gentle drum of keys, the faint scrape of the mouse pad. It was such an ordinary sound, something Charity had heard a thousand times echoing up from the kitchen nook while she lounged upstairs in silken pajamas. Back then it was background noise, meaningless, the noise of the help.
Now every tap seemed like a decree shaping her fate. Charity turned her head in tiny, cautious increments to watch. She couldn’t quite see the screen from this far inside the hoodie, but she could see Alejandra’s back. The girl’s posture was different than Charity remembered, shoulders squared, head steady, fingers moving with a calm certainty that made something twist bitterly in Charity’s belly.
What is she doing? Paying a bill? Messaging her boyfriend? Arranging my new life while I sit here like a flea?
The thought made Charity’s breath hitch, and she had to push deeper into the hoodie’s warm sleeve to muffle the tiny, humiliating sound that escaped her throat.
She had thought about running.
When Alejandra had turned away, when she’d clicked through windows on the screen, Charity’s mind had raced: I could climb down. I could hide. I could make it to the door. But the fantasy died as quickly as it bloomed. She had no idea where the door even was. She couldn’t scale a couch cushion without fighting the weight of fabric. Even if she made it to the street, then what?
The city was too big. Too fast. A place that once bowed to her family’s name now wouldn’t hesitate to sweep her off the sidewalk with a broom. She’d be roadkill, or worse, caught by someone who didn’t even know who she used to be.
No, she wasn’t trapped by Alejandra’s hoodie or this apartment. She was trapped by her own shrinking world. Her own cowardice. The horrifying truth that she had no plan because, in her heart, she’d never believed it would really happen to her.
She buried her face against her knees and inhaled the hoodie’s lingering scent, cheap detergent, Alejandra’s faint sweat, that earthy musk from the joint. It was comforting in a way that made her want to sob. A day ago she would have wrinkled her nose at that smell. Now it was her only fortress against the cold air that bit at her miniature skin.
Her thoughts drifted to Kira, loud, reckless, opinionated Kira, the only person she’d once considered maybe tolerable enough to trust with her secrets. She should have told her months ago. Should have asked for help. Instead she’d wasted precious time pretending she was above it all. Pretending she’d figure something out on her own.
And now… here she was. A speck. A squeaking shadow in the hoodie pocket of a girl her family never even considered worth protecting.
Charity lifted her eyes to take in the apartment, what she could see from her cloth burrow. The walls were old, the paint yellowed near the heater vents. The floorboards creaked under Alejandra’s socked feet when she shifted in her chair. A patchy rug frayed at the edges lay under the coffee table she was perched on, but it looked like a whole meadow to her now, each stray thread a rope she could trip on.
The sofa cushion dwarfed her field of vision. She could make out the subtle indentations where Alejandra’s hips had pressed into it when she’d sat down to eat her own meal. Charity shivered again, pulling the hoodie closer. Even now she could feel how cold her toes were.
She wondered if she would have socks ever again. The thought twisted something sharp and ugly in her chest. She clenched her teeth against it.
The steady sound of Alejandra’s typing stopped. Charity held her breath. She saw Alejandra’s shoulders rise and fall once, a deep, decisive breath. Then the giant turned slightly in her creaking chair and looked right at her, just eyes at first, dark, unreadable, patient.
Charity’s heart pounded against her ribs, and she squeezed herself tighter into the hoodie, as if cotton could hide the fact that she knew, knew, something had changed while she sat here pretending she still had choices.
Alejandra’s lips moved. One word, quiet but thunderous in Charity’s tiny ears:
“Patrona.”
The word that once meant boss.
Now it meant something else entirely.
Charity’s throat bobbed as she swallowed her next breath, tasting her own powerlessness on her tongue. In the silence that settled, she realized she couldn’t even remember what her old bedroom smelled like anymore.
All I can think about is how short sited Charity was not getting her friend or someone else come get her when she thought she might be feeling something coming on before she slept or wait for someone to find her. Now she is going to country that is great if you have money but if you don’t have money is very dangerous for Humans and basically little to no rules for littles as long as you give a little snack to the government. For all she knows she will become a side show for the parents or a breeder to make money. She is clearly in the Pet animal category so breeding for pups for money is not far fetched. Or showing her off, letting people pet her.
You aren’t wrong in that contries like Mexico can be dangerous if you don’t have money or go to the wrong place.
i really enjoyed a lot of country’s but i was made aware by the local workers that places I’m in is not normal for their country. there is a lot of dangers in places because Americans don’t understand how much our constitution gives us freedom to be successful and safe. there wasn’t a country i visited that people didn’t wish they had our document. Charity will learn being from old money doesn’t make you smart because she didn’t tell her only friend that she will be a little and can have here money if she saves her when it happens but that old money pride gets in the way again.
1) “greasy residue of egg on her tongue, salt, oil, and shame all mixing in the corners of her mouth.” sounds like a healthy breakfast.
2) “God, how did it come to this?” because she had no say in it, no say in it at all.
3) “She hadn’t known hunger because hunger was for other people. For people like… Alejandra.” Well, I’m sure she’ll get used to it soon.
4) “truth pressed against her temples like a migraine: I am those people now.” She’s actually (legally) less than those people now, owned by those people now.
5) “The girl’s posture was different than Charity remembered, shoulders squared, head steady, fingers moving with a calm certainty that made something twist bitterly in Charity’s belly.” Damn Charity knows something’s up
6) “What is she doing? Paying a bill? Messaging her boyfriend? Arranging my new life while I sit here like a flea?” I’m gonna go with option number three, Charity
7) “She’d be roadkill, or worse, caught by someone who didn’t even know who she used to be.” Now hold on, someone who didn’t know who you used to be is likely one of your best options.
8) “The horrifying truth that she had no plan because, in her heart, she’d never believed it would really happen to her.” Well, that was stupid.
9) “Kira, loud, reckless, opinionated Kira, the only person she’d once considered maybe tolerable enough to trust with her secrets. She should have told her months ago. Should have asked for help” she really should have.
10) “A squeaking shadow in the hoodie pocket of a girl her family never even considered worth protecting” IDK, apparently her father wanted Al kept around, so he has to have seen something in her.
11) “Even now she could feel how cold her toes were. She wondered if she would have socks ever again” IDK dressing Littles is a weird world of inconsistency so… maybe.
12) “Patrona.” The word that once meant boss. Now it meant something else entirely.” Oh, that’s still the perfect nickname
13) “she realized she couldn’t even remember what her old bedroom smelled like anymore.” already? What is she, a goldfish?
13) thought was that she was being dramatic as she is still a teen.
12) Yeah, it used from now on in the same way jordan is called jordy.
11) Well some people care more then others. Some people like to accessorize there littles and dress them up and have them look nice kind of like dolls.
Others just want something practical and wont think about it again. Basically how most guys dress. Heres some jeans, here a t-shirt and we’re good.
10) This one I can say as it snot really spoilerly itsjust included somewhere in a future chapter. She was kept around because she is a hardworker and her dad saw that and valued the hard work and liked they could pay her cash under the table. So they could pay her at a cheaper rate, not have to supply medical benefits, or pay taxes or anything. They could just pay her in straight cash.
9)this was her actual mistake. You are right. She should have told Kira. Things would have been different. If she had told Kira she could have just stayed in her room for a couple days or whatever and kira would have probably came around to check on her
8) It is stupid but pride and thinking you are untouchable goes a long ways
7)It is also a dangerous option. She could be caught be some kind fo sexual predator and live the life of tiny sex slave.
6) Yup, although I do like how nosey charity. She is obsevant.
5)She is observant and knows how to read people. As she liked seeing how her bullying was affecting people. So she got good at reading them.
4)yeah, that would put her beneath.
3) Hunger is something that most people in 1st world countries take for granted as they have never been actually starving or hungry. Where Alejandra living on the street at one point definitely has been actually hungry before.
2) And she made a dumb decision not trust anyone. Should put faith in Kira. Even if It would have been a bit shitty probably would be less shitty then this and Kira could probably provide a life similar to what she was used too.
1)I made it unhealthy on purpose as usually the poorer you are the harder it is to eat healthy.
12) I like that both her real name and pet name are dripping with irony.
11) Very true, but I don’t think Al will bother with Little socks.
10) Ah, fair enough, I got my hopes up way to high, personally I prefer my affair baby theory, lol.
9) It’s not like her vulnerability was even kept secret, Kira would have known, probably heard it from Sara of Stephonie.
8) She literally watched it happen to her family one by one.
7) I think certain readers wouldn’t mind Charity ending up in that kind of situation. But I’d like to point out that she could have ended up in that situation with the people she did know prior.
(though I’d like to assume she’d find a normal person in that situation not a perv)
6) It’s an interesting trait
5) That’s a horrible use for that skill, well done.
3) Very true.
2) Plus, Kira was her friend, even if not as healthy as certain other friendships in this world they would have a bond, Charity could have lived well with her.
1) the joke was about how the breakfast listed “shame” as an ingredient
3) Its ironic that people with wealth will advocate for people in the US illegally that have to get here in dangerous ways, but wont pay the money to bring them over safely on a working visa and pay them a wage that is the same as any other workers. When I see these people on TV I see slave owners, its gross.
I don’t think it is ironic. It is simple greed.
do you mean greed of power?
never mind bud, I saw what you were referencing. and i agree with you. I think its bad to manipulate people to put them in danger just for money
The way i wrote it was the intent was simple greed.
but each reader can interpret there own way once its in the wild.
5) its interesting she notices a giant who is in charge of her but not her hands on her hips stance from a woman so small she has less then no power and is nothing but a toy or a simple pen animal depending on who finds her.