My name is Luna Moonshine Evans.
I was born and raised in one of the poorest parts of Livewell City. A society that doesn't believe in change, orderliness, or voice. Not just the society, the individuals who have failed themselves and believe only in what tomorrow brings.
My family had no names, No titles, No recognition. Evans is a name that sounds too fine for people like us.
We were like shadows in a city full of lights.
My dad and mum, Mr. And Mrs. Thompson Evans, were labourers strong people with soft hearts and tired hands. I've got two siblings, Ama and Nice.
My best friends are Mary and Ben, from the same circle of poverty, our bond sealed by hunger, laughter, and shared dreams of escape.
Growing up was a nightmare, but I was able to dream because I believed in love. Like one of my favourite singers once sang, "the power of love, " I believed so much in it. I was studying at Livewell City University, majoring in Creative Writing.
My ambition for creative writing was born out of society's stereotypes against us. I see my pen as a sword I'm going to wield, and my book as fire I'll use to set the society ablaze. A sword that refuses to rust.
Not chaotic, not weak, not silent.
I believed I could rewrite the story of people like us, the ones always seen as nothing, wretched, and timid through the burning fire of my pen.
But in all, I was searching for love. Because I lacked it at home. A home where the language of love was curses, shouting, silence, and bitterness.
That absence of love became my death trap.
Memory of sweet pain:
We didn't wake up to Good morning.
What we heard was, Why are you still sleeping? And for the longest time, I thought it was normal.
My parents prepared for work. My siblings and I learned to grow up early and take care of ourselves. Every morning, I'd go to my favourite spot in our roughest neighbourhood, the Clan of Inspiration, with my best friends, just to admire the chirping birds. After school, we'd run errands and do odd jobs just to buy snacks.
I wasn't close to my siblings. The language we spoke was bitterness. Fighting. Shouting. We didn't know how to share or care for each other.
No one taught us that.
Sometimes we sneaked out to the edges of the city to admire the old money families, especially the Bill family, owners of Rosewell Holdings. We'd watch them dressed in the finest cotton, riding in the latest cars, hosting parties and charity events.
Me, Mary, and Ben would sit quietly, dreaming of a world where we didn't have to count coins or skip meals.
City galas were my favourite. That was the one time the rich and poor gathered in one space to honour certain traditions. Food was shared food I never saw in our home all sponsored by the elites. And during those nights, I got to eat like royalty. Just for a while.
The poorest district was always neglected. We were hoping for each other. Strength to each other. Always out of the government's budget forgotten, abandoned, only remembered when our labour or votes were needed, or when dirty jobs had to be done, or the elites wanted to be seen donating on the news.
Ben's father, our community leader, was a man of principle and action. He did his best to protect us from the cruelty of the wealthy districts, though sometimes his best wasn't enough. Once every two months, donations were made to assist the poor, and I was lucky to be one of the chosen few.
The Bill family was different, they were one of the founding families of Livewell City.
They were involved in everything from politics, education, medicine, and the media.
Nothing passed through the city without their hand on it. They were feared. Respected, but behind all the luxury and kindness were secrets swept under red carpets and sealed with handshakes.
And their heirs?
I always saw them as unfortunate in a way. I believed that he who wears the crown bears the weight.
That described them perfectly.
The pressure on their shoulders was massive. Expectations weighed them down.
They were raised not to live, but to lead. To conquer. To protect the family legacy at any cost.
I pitied them in my heart, though they would never know that.
That night, everything changed.