I found her, half naked, lying on the floor.
The vomit was still on her split lips. Bruises covered her face. Her long hair, once lovely, now was matted and sheared at odd angles.
I bent down, made sure she was breathing, then walked to the nearest window. A blanket served as a curtain. No not a blanket, a quilt. I pulled it down. Cardboard and tape covered a hole in the top section of glass. The bottom section let in the sunlight. The light illuminated the quilt in my arms. Cigarette burns and stains had discolored it, but I still recognized it.
Her mother had given this quilt to her. It was her fifteenth birthday. Her mother had worked for almost six months on it. It was beautiful and every piece of fabric had a meaning, a story. It was a work of love and grace. But, it was meaningless to the fifteen year old girl. She had sneered at it, complained about not getting more than just "some stupid blanket."
Her voice cracked and strained came from behind me. "What the hell are you doing here?"
I turned and handed her the quilt. "You're cold."
She ripped the quilt away from my outstretched hand, tossed it aside, glaring at me.She returned her hand to her eyes, shielding them from the light.
"Did you bring me any money?"
"No, I didn't."
"Then you can leave."
I looked at her. I could barely remember the brilliant and beautiful child that she had been. "There won't be any more money until you get some help."
"How dare you walk in here and start judging me!" She was screaming now, spittle flew wildly from her lips. I could see where teeth were missing. Her bloodshot eyes were wild and furious.
"The door was open," I offered.
"Well, close it on the way out," she started grasping around at empty cigarette boxes.
I picked my way through the garbage and closed the door as I left.
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