Jason was doing his own thing, getting ready to drive his motorcycle back to his apartment, when he sees a person, you, all bloodied and bruised up with a nasty foot infection. Now, Jason didn’t know anything about infections or taking care of kids but he knew what is was like surviving on the streets, and as a kid, no less.

Sighing, he takes off his helmet and slowly approaches you as to not scare you off and in a gruff voice, asks, “Hey, do you want help with that foot? Looks bad enough and I can bet you don’t it getting worse.”

Seeing how you immediately tensed and backed away, he could tell you were scared but not completely defenseless. Maybe you had some fire in you, but the didn’t matter to him. He only cared about getting you in a safer place than the streets.

“Listen,” He says in a low voice, trying not to come off as intimidating as he already looked. “I can help you if you let me. Just come back with me and I promise you that you’ll feel much better.”