I was walking down the sidewalk returning back home from school in the shimmering, light rain when I met her. Frantic and panicked, she was trying to meet someone's eye. Someone who was willing and ready to help without a hidden intention or selfishness. She came up to me on the verge of explosion. I looked at her and took in her scarred face. Beautiful, if she tried to make an effort. She asked me, with a voice that cracked, the way to her destination. She said she was new around there and was probably lost. I wanted to help but at the same time, I was in a dilemma as I weighed my options. My conscience said she was going to ask for money just like every other 'Hey there! Can you help me?' beggar, but my heart said that I must help her.

Not trying to boast while I say this, but I love helping others. There's this giddiness I feel when I help someone. Serenity. And at that moment when the one I've helped smiles at me gratefully and thanks me with relief in their words, I feel proud of myself to be who I am.

When I chose the latter over the former, we walked along as she grilled me with questions. She was probably trying to make sure of my genuineness. When she looked a little at ease with me, I asked her questions about herself for the same purpose.

She told me she was going to Japan for a trip, almost smiling. When I looked down at her small frame it was then that I noticed her hands. It was as if someone poured acid on them. Or hot oil, the same as her face. Melted and crooked at unnatural angles. The skin of her face matched the skin of her hands. Completely burned. I wasn't scared. I was curious, wanting to know the story of them. I could notice the way bypassers  looked at her as we padded along. Like she was a sore sight to the eyes. I hated it. I hated the people of my society, just like always, for being so shallow and cold hearted.

She stopped me on my tracks, holding my arm with her hand as her phone rang in her pockets. I could hear the person on the other side shouting and growling at her. She asked me where we reached and I replied as she repeated it to the person on the phone. With a sigh, she had ended the call and looked at me with hooded eyes pleading for me to help her. I requested her to walk faster, unable to do anything more when she told me about her uncle yelling at her to get there fast. My home was near but she had to go a long way and I didn't want to leave her alone in the middle of such a crowded place, helpless. Isn't it strange how we worry and feel for someone we barely know? Yes, very. But it feels nice.

It started raining heavily and we stopped for shelter. I stayed with her trying to calm her down and trying to find a way to take her there. There were no public buses that went there and her uncle wasn't picking up his phone. The Taxi's are expensive and I didn't want to suggest it to her nor ask her how much money she had right now. Judging from her state, not much. Then she settled my nerves just as I was about to ask her if she had any money on her. She told me she had only three hundred as she bit the nails of her fingers, probably starting to panic again. In that moment, I just had to help her. I saw three cabs nearby as we reached the street to my house. I held her hand and walked towards those Taxi's pulling her behind me. Her hand was soft and I wondered again what caused them to become the way they were. I didn't feel sorry or creeped out, I was too curious to know her story. But I dared not ask her.

I bent down and looked inside the cab at the driver and asked him if he would take her there. He was hesitant, but I have good persuading skills. That was when my rusty acting skills came in handy. I tumbled out a few 'please', put on an innocent face and Bingo! He was ready to go for one hundred and fifty. I helped her get inside the Taxi and when she was sat inside, I closed the door. The small drops of water on her dark hair were sparkling. And then she smiled and my heart swelled with proudness for myself. The giddiness filled me up. The happiness that came along with other's smile lit up my heart. I was happy to have helped someone again. "Thank you for the help, sis." She kept repeating and I couldn't say or do anything else than nod my head and smile at her. "Goodbye" I said with a grin on my face seeing hers on her face, and then the cab drove away. Then a thought hit me, I was worried all over again. I should've exchanged numbers.

I was worried she won't reach safely. I was worried something might happen. Paranoia hit me with full force. Again, I was amazed at how you start caring for people without having any mere reason to.

I rushed home and with a wholeness in my heart, I repeated the tale to my Grams. She said I did good. She said, "I know how you feel. Your heart feels swelled up because you know you were the reason behind someone's smile. You made someone's day. Keep helping others, love. Money can't help someone the way actual help does. Helping someone blind cross the road, stretching out a hand to someone who fell down, and helping out an elder in any circumstance is what helping is. In fact, giving help to anyone who needs it is the best help. Your kindness and empathy is help. Not the money you give."

I teared up at her words, being the sensitive and feely person I am and she laughed much to my embarrassment and expense. I kept worrying about my acquaintance until later and regretted not giving her my number and asking her to call me once she reached the place she wanted to be. But my heart said she was safe and that was enough consolation for me.

What was strange except the whole meeting was that we spent almost an hour together, chatting and walking in the rain and never even asked each other our names. I pretty much lost a potential friend.