Two Silent Cries For Help

                Rummaging through the moldy garbage with my paws, a startling pain pulsated up my hind leg. I lifted up my back paw and let out a whimper as the tiny object that jabbed into me slid back out like a splinter being retracted from flesh. Turning my body around toward the shiny object, I sniffed the metal letting my whiskers graze over it, the tips falling into the dirty water from the alley. It was an earring, silver embellished with small flecks of gold. My nose breathed in fresh blood, other than mine, lingering on its hoop.
         I heard a dull crying that carried on the night breeze to my ear and my eyes darted back and forth in alarm. In the corner near the graffiti covered dumpster among the soggy papers and the soiled Hamburger Helper sat a girl crying ears into her face. Out of curiosity, I crept over near her. As I tiptoed closer, I saw more damage and destruction done to her fragile body. Her bare legs carried with them bruise after bruise. As she continued to sob, her arms clutched tighter to her legs and I could see some of her fingernails had been torn back letting blood run over the sensitive skin. A pale green barrette that had once held tight her soft brown curls made its way into a knot nestled near the nape of her neck. I moved a little closer to her nudging an obliterated Coke can that was infested with beetles. The girl’s head shot up right into my gaze at once revealing a glaze of tears that leached over her honey-hazelnut eyes. Brushing her matted hair back behind her shoulders, I spotted blood trickling its way out of her slashed ear. The earring belonged to her.
         I nudged my body against her legs—my tail tickled her calf. She sniffled as she reached her hand out to pet my head. As she continued to caress behind my ears, I climbed my way up her legs into her lap careful to retract my claws and not dig into her neglected body. She didn’t need anymore abuse.
         “Hey kitty,” she managed to get out through the sobs. “Where is your home huh?”
         If only I could tell her I had none. My masters let me out the door to, let’s just say, do my business and I was never let back in. After waiting for however many hours or days, I deserted the home to scavenge for food to survive.
         “Men are mean!” She bellowed interrupting my thoughts. “He still has my stuff up there by I gotta wait until he leaves. I can’t go back there now. I know what he would do.” She paused for a moment looking lost in contemplation. Suddenly she started again in a mocking laugh, “I don’t even know why I am talking to a cat. What can you say back to me? Nothing.”
         After hearing her ridicule, I leaped back to find the earring. I nuzzled away the scattered trash—its silver shine soon attracted my eye. I opened my mouth and strategically hooked the hoop onto my front fang and scurried back over to her lap to show her my find.
         She looked down to me—almost surreal, and reached out her delicate hand, splotched with blood, near my mouth. I dropped the earring in her palm and awaited her response in hope.
         “I thought I’d lost it,” she exclaimed as her fingers lightly traced over the intricate design. “They were my mom’s—she gave them to me right before she died. My grandmother wore them before her. And now look at it, all because of a stupid fight over his crap in the apartment.” The platinum edge had been noticeably bent in on the side. She let out a few more sniffles.
         The back door swing open shining out a light that blinded us both for a few brief moments. She clutched me to her body as fast as lightning and kicked herself back out of view behind the dumpster. A brawny man stepped out into the alley down the way. Shadows glided over his face blurring the features as his head panned left and right down the alley. He slammed the door closed and stomped in the opposite direction, water pattering loudly under his G.I. Joe combat boots. As he turned the corner to meet the busy street, I felt her start to breathe again. Her chest began to draw air back in and out steadily.
         “He’s gone,” she panted seeming very relieved. At once, she stood up as if an outside forced powerfully lifted up her body resisting defeat. She set out towards the door limping from a broken heel off her beige plain-jane shoes. Landing on the platform built around the door, she turned on the balls of her feet, her bruised calves flexing, and stared at me. I still stood where she left me not sure of what to do.
         “Well, aren’t you coming?” she called out with a smile revealing a perfect grin.
         At once, I pranced over the muddy water puddles to her side. If only she could tell that inside and out I was grinning as well, ear to ear.