Look what I've gotten myself into now. I leave her alone for just a couple minutes and she's already run off, elsewhere in the house. I guess I can't blame her. If I was trapped in a house with someone 2 or 3 times taller than me, and I was afraid of them, I'd probably do the same. She just doesn't understand it yet. She doesn't understand that I'm not going to hurt her. All I want is to make sure she gets better. It would help that, a lot, if she weren't constantly running away from me. I've got to figure out some way to get her to trust me.

The question is...what is that way? I've been kind to her already, haven't I? From the beginning, I brought her into my home and tried to wrap up her injuries. When she was afraid, I didn't force myself towards her and move her, myself. I always gave her the freedom to move around, never trying to make it look like I wanted to control her. I ran after her when the dog attacked her again, even taking a few hits for her, trying to protect her. Then, after we come back in, I give her the opportunity to wrap up her own injury, completely free of having me watching her, in the room.

I sigh as I slowly trek the halls, thinking about all this. This woman was very short, or small, I should say, and she can get into a lot of stuff in this house. I didn't exactly decorate and buy furniture, with having someone a third of my own height running around in mind. As much as she doesn't want me around, I think I need to be with her. There's just too much she can get into and get hurt with. I admire her willpower to keep herself away from something she's afraid of, but she needs to view the bigger picture, or at least, my bigger picture. If she can just understand that I don't want to hurt her, maybe things can go more smoothly with this.

What 'this' is, however, I am unsure of. I keep thinking as I slowly walk into the downstairs bedroom, designed for when my family is visiting. What brought her here, in the first place? I've never, in my life, seen anyone else on these roads, let alone someone so short. No one likes living out here, unless they just want to be alone, or away from people. I, myself, love nature, so getting away from civilization was wonderful for me. I'd rather be surrounded by trees, fields, and greenery than skyscrapers and metallic buildings all the time. It's more peaceful out here. At least, it is until you find short women being attacked by dogs at your front porch.

After peeking around the bedroom and the small bathroom attached to it, I imagine that she's not in here, either. I go back towards the hallway, aiming to look in the other rooms. Unfortunately, though, there aren't any more rooms to look in on the first floor. I've looked everywhere. As I come back into the hallway, I stop and look towards the stairs. She couldn't have climbed up all those stairs, with her injury, could she? I can't exactly relinquish the possibility. She obviously has strong willpower to keep resisting my offers for help, so she could have tried to climb upstairs.

This situation keeps getting weird and more stressing. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I dash over to the stairs and look under the actual steps. I don't know if she could fall through the crevices between steps, but I should make sure, just in case. There's a small net under each step, in case anything were to fall through. If she had fallen, the net would catch her and she couldn't be harmed. This was mainly designed for pets, I think. It was already there when I moved into the house, and I never thought to remove it. After all, if something was there for safety, why would you want to remove it in the first place? A house should be as safe as possible, if you can make it that way.

A sigh of relief comes over me as I see that there isn't anything tangled up in that net. No pets, no inanimate objects, and most importantly, no short ladies. I turn my attention towards the second floor, however, as I hear something. It's a voice, female. It sounds like her, though it's a little different. The voice I remember of her is one that yells and shows itself off as a strong-willed person. This voice, however, was quite a bit different. It's very faint, but I can hear it. It sounds like whimpering. Could she be whimpering because of the pain she's feeling? Could she have been putting up an act before to make herself seem stronger than she is? I'd be lying if I said I've never done that before.

No matter the reason, the whimpering enters my ears and makes my legs start to move. I make my way up the stairs, slowly and quietly. If she has the same reaction to me that she always has so far, she'll be startled and will probably try to run, once again. I don't want that. I have to just go upstairs and come off as kind and non-hostile a person as I can. Games of hide-and-seek cannot go on forever. She's small, she's hurt, and she needs to be taken care of. The only way I will be able to take care of her, unless she's unconscious, is if she can learn to trust me.

Coming up the stairs, I peek into my bedroom, and grin for a moment. Before me is both an incredibly adorable and incredibly sad sight. On my own bed, curled up against the pillow I use at night, is that short woman. Nearly half her body is on the pillow. She is still whimpering, and looking in the opposite direction of the door. Her left arm has a bandage on it, very loosely wrapped. She has tried to put it on herself, but clearly, she has had issues with it. I stand in the doorway for a moment before deciding I need to make my presence known to her. I don't know what she's going through, but I should try and help her.

Curling the fingers of my right hand up, I gently knock on the door a few times. Her body stops and turns towards me. I stay right where I am and try to smile as I speak to her, as if it were her room. “May I come in?”