The car’s low hum blended with the syrupy drift of Spanish pop music, each cheerful chorus a needle scratching at what was left of Charity’s pride.
Curled in the bottom of the battered plaid bag, her kennel, she thought grimly, Charity barely dared to breathe. Any small movement sent the bag swaying against Alejandra’s work shoes, her old hoodie, the sticky remains of the hot dog scent clinging to the cloth.
She pressed her face into a fold of fabric that smelled faintly of cheap detergent and the earthy ghost of Alejandra’s stale weed. The stink should have revolted her. Instead, it grounded her, a small anchor in a reality spinning further from her reach with every mile.
Somewhere above, Alejandra hummed along to the radio, tapping her fingers lazily on the wheel. The occasional soft word in Spanish drifted down through the bag’s half-closed flap. Charity couldn’t make them out, not fully. Her ears strained for clues, a name, a street sign, anything to guess where they were going.
But the car gave her nothing but vibrations and muffled music.
The engine growled deeper as they left the broader city streets behind. She could feel it in her bones: the pavement rougher now, the tires thumping over old potholes that jostled her helpless against Alejandra’s battered work shoes.
She hated the way it made her flinch every time, hated how her body folded tighter into the workshirt, as if it might hide her from the truth: she had no clue what came next.
A thin sheen of sweat dampened her temples as her mind clawed through possibilities. Home? But Alejandra said one more stop. She pictured the old apartment complex Alejandra had once mentioned in passing, some half-rotten building in the Mexican district. Charity had laughed then.
Beyond the car windows, the ones she couldn’t see from inside this cloth prison, the world rolled by in a blur she could only imagine: the sharp transition from the bright, bustling market streets to the outskirts of the city’s Mexican district. Charity knew this place only by gossip, property tax statements, and the occasional charity event where she’d once stood on a rented stage and pledged donations she’d never personally missed.
In the hush of the bag, memories flared cruel and bright:
This is the neighborhood you and Daddy said was too dangerous to drive through after sunset.
This is the place your mother claimed she’d “clean up” with one new development contract.
This is where you told Kira once, half-laughing over brunch, that they should just build a bigger fence and keep the crime locked inside.
Or maybe she’s taking me to show me off, she thought bitterly. Maybe she’ll parade me through one of her old neighborhoods like a prize. Look who I caught. Look what I own now.
The bag shifted as Alejandra took a slow corner. Sunlight flickered through the canvas for a moment, warm against Charity’s bare arms, then vanished again into darkness. She strained her ears for familiar city sounds, traffic, horns, the distant wail of an ambulance, but there was only the soft thrum of Alejandra’s voice humming along to a love song and the whisper of cracked pavement rolling by under the wheels.
I should ask, Charity told herself. I should demand to know where we’re going. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her collar tag pressed against her throat every time she swallowed. Who would she demand it from? Her guardian?
She pressed her palm to the inside wall of the bag. The fabric gave a little under her touch, thin, faded, as cheap as Alejandra’s old life. A lifetime ago, she would have scoffed at this fabric, tossed it in the bin with a wrinkle of her nose. Now it wrapped around her like a cage she was too small to break.
A pothole jarred her teeth together. She bit her lip to stifle a yelp. Somewhere above, Alejandra chuckled softly, like she’d felt the tiny bump too, a private joke only she understood.
Charity squeezed her eyes shut. One more stop, Alejandra had said. But what kind of stop? A shop? A run-down corner store for a bottle of soda? Or something worse?
She forced her mind away from the darkest guesses. Forced it to Kira’s face instead, how Kira would rage if she saw her like this. How she’d storm into any building, any room, and rip Charity back out of Alejandra’s arms. Push Alejandra to the ground. Stand over
Except Kira wasn’t here. There was only the plaid bag, the heavy shoes, the stale warmth of Alejandra’s scent, and the pop music trickling through a single cracked speaker: bright, cheerful, and entirely deaf to the way her heart rattled inside her chest like a wasp in a jar.
Charity curled tighter into herself, pressing her cheek to Alejandra’s old workshirt, and told herself she could endure one more stop. Just one more.
Then maybe, maybe, she’d get to go home.
Though in her bones, she already knew:
It would never be her home again.
Based on the image, I thought Kira had found Charity.
haha, that was the intent of what i wanted to people think based on seeing the image. Only to read it and realize its just depicting the scene in Charity’s mind of Kira getting revenge on Alejandra.
plus i wanted a reason to use the Kira figure i put togther in planning.
That makes sense, the Kira figure looks good by the way,
thanks
i think the story turning into Kiri getting charity and going to rich parties and school showing everyone charity is her perfect doll by dressing her up in fancy out fits and making her do her toe nails and finger nails for people to see would be fun, Al is getting depressing lol.
You task me sir! 😝
So this is kira she was talking about but Charity see her in her imagination not in her real life.
correct, You are seeing charity’s imaginated version of a scene with her and kira and her being rescued from Alejandra.
would kira actually do this? like is charity somewhat self-loathing or something and thought Kira wasn’t a real friend and wouldn’t have helped her but is starting to think she was wrong now that she’s Al’s little?
Well charity didnt view her friends as someone who she would want to be the little of or thought would be responsible enough.
However, some of that as has bene kind of hinted at was more the fact no one would have ever been good enough for charity. As she didn’t wnat to be anyones little and to sign herself over to someone was/is to not only admit that but to admit that she is trulyl less than, is a lesser lifeform and she wasn’t willing to do that.
Out of all her friends Kira was her only true friend from her view. As her other friends were friendly but it was friends of popularity, friends because she is charity stevens. SO this kind of highlights further Charity’s regret in her own downfall.
Would kira actually do this. I doubt she would attack another person. part of this is charitiys embellishment as she is fantasizing basically of what it would look like. So the image is played up with that in mind.
However, she is reflecting on her life and the realization and growth of Kira in her life as she loses everything is to depict the changing of her personality as part of the story is her own journey. So you can see the person she was in chapter one and compare it to the person she is at the end.
As while she is/was a bad person she does have a character arc and growth.
Will we her where she going this week or after it cause I think we see her flashback next ?
0) Is this maybe tomorrow’s Image? It’s not what’s described in the text. (looks like a good scene though)
1) “Charity knew this place only by gossip, property tax statements, and the occasional charity event where she’d once stood on a rented stage and pledged donations she’d never personally missed.” Charity doing charity, who’d have thought it.
2.1) “This is the neighborhood you and Daddy said was too dangerous to drive through after sunset.” I’m sure not the only one.
2.2) “This is the place your mother claimed she’d “clean up” with one new development contract.” Gentrification strikes again
2.3) “This is where you told Kira once, half-laughing over brunch, that they should just build a bigger fence and keep the crime locked inside.” that never works
3) “I should ask, Charity told herself. I should demand to know where we’re going” Communication is important.
4) “Charity squeezed her eyes shut. One more stop, Alejandra had said. But what kind of stop? A shop? A run-down corner store for a bottle of soda? Or something worse?” I’m sure we’ll know soon.
5) “Forced it to Kira’s face instead, how Kira would rage if she saw her like this. How she’d storm into any building, any room, and rip Charity back out of Alejandra’s arms. Push Alejandra to the ground. Stand over” she doesn’t know that for sure, Kira could simply point and laugh before leaving.
0) its specifically depicting this sectiion:
Kira would rage if she saw her like this. How she’d storm into any building, any room, and rip Charity back out of Alejandra’s arms. Push Alejandra to the ground. Stand over
1) well more her family for the tax write off but charity doing charity has a funny ring to it. Probably the irony
2) Definately not the only one.
2.2) Well most cleanup projects end up “displacing” people like Alejandra the propety values go up and the clientele they are attracting changes. Which is what being spoken too. How the the intent was force out.
2.3) But fitting that they woudl consider everyone in that district a criminal. That screams Charity.
3) It is important but that ship has probably sailed charity asking for courtesy she would never give if roles were reversed.
4) some say tommorrow.
5) Well that’s more Charity fantasizing about what would happen. Her rendition of events as they would occur in her mind fantasized depiction.
0) Oh, that’s Kira! with Charity on her shoulder, Lol (For some reason I thought Kira would be black)
1) It’s definitely ironic
2.3) Yes, it does.
3) I agree
5) Fantasising about other preferred guardians would also be a common Little fantasy.
The next page can’t be found?