I remembered everything…
Where did it all begin? Was it the time I was completely alone? Or the days I stole just to survive?
No—
It was that day.
The day everything changed for me.
That day, the air had a slight chill. I was in the same old, torn clothes—dirty, hanging loosely on me. My hair was tangled, my face smeared with dust. I remember the way people looked at me, the judgment in their eyes. I had just snatched some money from a street vendor's counter. I didn't think twice—I just ran.
Shouts erupted behind me. I could hear heavy footsteps chasing me down the narrow alley. One man almost got me—he grabbed my arm for a second. My breath caught, but I yanked free, elbowed through the crowd, and bolted. I was slipping on loose stones, dodging carts, my legs trembling—but I kept running, trying my best not to fall. I couldn't afford to fall. Not now.
After running endlessly, I finally reached home—a small space barely held together by four cracked walls and a roof torn open in several places. I stepped inside, breathless… and that's when I saw him.
There he was—lying on the floor like he owned the place. Dressed in clean, proper clothes, hair smooth and neatly in place. He was tall, fit, and looked like he didn't belong anywhere near these broken walls. His face was striking—far too good-looking for someone you'd expect to see in the slums. And his eyes… he looked at me with pure disgust, like just the sight of me was offensive.
Wait... what?