The victim

Valerie’s POV

I stood in the small, cluttered store, watching as the old woman, moved with surprising agility behind the counter. The old woman had been unusually kind to me today, in her own gruff, no-nonsense way. It wasn't just the way she had defended me against the men who had harassed me earlier, there was more something strange, a protectiveness that I couldn't understand.

As the old woman rang up the sale of the day, I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, my mind churning over and over again with the events that had unfolded in the past few days. So many questions whirled in my mind, and this old woman seemed to hold a few of the answers, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Finally unable to restrain her curiosity, I asked, "Why are you helping me?"

The old woman didn't turn around, her hands still occupied with the cash register. The rhythmic sound of clinking coins filled the quietness between them. Theoretically, I thought I would leave the old woman to her reflection, a