Hours passed before the rain finally faded into silence. The air still smelled of wet dust and smoke as I sat outside Angel's shop, waiting. My clothes were clean now, warm against the cold wind, but inside I still felt hollow. Then, through the dim orange glow of the sunset, I saw my sister. Cecilia. She stumbled through the muddy market road, clutching a torn bag to her chest. Her face was bruised, her eyes heavy, and her steps uneven.
"Harry, where are you?" she called out, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry across the fading noise of the market.
"Sister, I'm here!" I shouted, running toward her with Angel close behind me. "What happened to you?" I asked, grabbing her hand. Her skin was cold.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Good job waiting for me. Now let's go home before Dad comes back from work." She turned to Angel and nodded weakly. "Thank you, Angel, for looking after my brother."
"Wait how did you know her name? And we didn't get any money for Dad!" I said, my voice breaking in sudden panic.
"Don't worry," Cecilia replied. "I got enough money for both of us and for him too. As for how I know her name, that's none of your concern." She held my wrist tightly and pulled me along, the bag of money swinging beside her as we left the market.
That night, we reached home a single minute after the time Father had ordered us to return. Just one minute. I prayed under my breath that he would forgive us.
The door creaked open to reveal him lying on the couch, a bottle in hand, his eyes burning with fury. "Why are you coming back home at this time?" he thundered, his voice echoing through the walls. "I gave you a time to abide by, and you still come late? Why?"
Neither of us spoke. We stood in silence, our heads bowed low, holding out the money with both hands like an offering.
"Speak to me when I talk to you!" he roared again.
"The thing is…" I began softly, stepping in front of Cecilia like a shield.
"You idiot," she muttered under her breath.
"Oh, so you're speaking to me while I talk to you? And you're looking up at me now?" Father's tone deepened, rage growing like fire.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Get the hell out of my sight, trash!" he shouted.
I turned slowly toward the door, unsure what to do. "Okay, sir…" I muttered.
"Oh, is that so? You're walking out on me now?" He smirked coldly. "Seems you're being fed too much. Go outside and kneel under that tree. Wait for me there."
Without hesitation, I obeyed. I stepped out into the night and knelt under the old mango tree beside the house, tying my wrists around the trunk like I had done many times before.
Inside, his voice boomed again. "As for you, girl, do you have what I asked for?"
"Yes, I have the money you asked of me and my brother," Cecilia replied quickly.
"How did you get the money?" he asked, then laughed bitterly. "Actually, I don't care. As long as you're bringing me money, I don't give a damn how you earn it." He snatched the bag from her hands and tossed a few coins and a single dollar note back at her.
"But Daddy, you shorted me by ten percent," Cecilia said quietly.
"Shut up!" His palm struck her face with a loud crack. "Are you the one to tell me what to do? And how did Harrison get his share? You said it came from both of you, right?"
"Yes, I…" she began, trembling, as she explained everything how she had left me in Angel's store, how she got the money, and how the day went.
"I see," he said coldly. "Go help your mother prepare food for me."
Outside, I knelt motionless as mosquitoes bit through my skin. My arms ached, my legs trembled, but I didn't dare move. The night was quiet except for the sound of the door opening behind me.
"I hear you made a new friend today," Father's voice came low and dark. I froze before I felt the sting of his whip slice across my back.
"Yes, sir. Her name is Angel," I said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, I see," he muttered. "And she fed you, treated you nicely, didn't she? Do you think she's better than me?"
"No, Daddy," I stammered. My heart raced so fast I thought it might burst. My legs shook violently.
"By the time I finish with you today," he said, his words cold and slow, "if you ever see friends again, you'll run. You'll remember to always come home early."
"Please, I only came one minute late," I pleaded, but my voice broke. "Please, pity me."
"You are weak," he said, raising the whip again. "That's why I must punish you."
The lashes tore through my back again and again. Each strike burned deeper than the last. I could no longer tell if the wetness on my skin was rain or blood. The pain blurred everything.
And that night was the beginning of many nights like it.
Years passed, but the morning light never felt warm again. Each sunrise only brought another cycle of exhaustion, filth, and the slow decay of my childhood. I woke each day to the same routine dragging my sore body through the uneven stones of the market, lifting bins of rotten vegetables, spoiled meat, broken glass, dead rats. The stench clung to my skin like a curse.
Sometimes shopkeepers gave me a few coins. Most times they didn't. I stopped begging. I couldn't bear the look in their eyes anymore that cold, distant pity that said I wasn't worth saving.
By thirteen, I was numb. Numb to the kicks, the shouting, the drunken beatings. Numb to my mother's silence that replaced protection.
She always looked at me like she wanted to help, but she never did. She just watched. And that hurt more than any whip could.
People say hatred burns like fire. But for me, it came like ice. Slow. Quiet. Cold. It didn't rage. It froze.
That was where it began the apathy. The realization that people saw me, heard me, and chose to do nothing.
So I kept my head down. I worked. I endured. I carried my pain like a secret flame in my chest. The only warmth I had left was Cecilia my sister, my only light.
But even she had grown distant, leaving for hours with no explanation. So one day, instead of dumping the trash, I followed her.
She moved swiftly through the streets, blending with the crowd like a shadow. I stayed far behind, heart pounding not from fear, but from something heavier.
She turned down a narrow alley between two crumbling buildings, the kind of place even rats avoided. I hesitated, then stepped forward.
What I saw froze me where I stood.
Cecilia…
She was kneeling.
In front of a man.
A grown man.
His hand was on her head forcing his dick on her mouth.
Her eyes were… hollow as tears filled he eyes.
Like she had left herself behind.
I didn't breathe.
I didn't blink.
I just stood there as something inside me…
broke.
A quiet, clean snap,Like a string pulled too tight for too long.
The world around me shifted, as if the air had turned to glass and shattered in slow motion. My breath went cold. My body burned.
I could not move.
I could not speak.
Only one thought pulsed in my head.
"Is this what people do to the weak?"
They ignore pain.
They cause it.
They feed off the weak.
And they smile while doing it.
I do not know how long I stood there.
When Cecilia noticed me, her eyes widened in horror not because she was caught but because she saw the look on my face.
That was the moment I stopped being a child.
That was the day my humanity fractured.
The day something inside me broke and never came back.
What are you doing to my sister screamed out of me before I could stop it. I grabbed a stick and rushed at the man.
Who the fuck is this brat he barked as he pulled up his trousers and produced a knife, lunging at me. I dodged his clumsy swings and struck back with every scrap of strength I had. My fists found him again and again until he fell. Blood filled my hand and the world narrowed to the pounding of my pulse.
"Harry let him go please Cecilia begged, tears in her voice. Please do not forget what mother told us ..."she cried as she forced my arm away.
"But he is hurting you and forcing himself on you.." the words tore out of me. "The scum deserves to die" I said, fury making my voice sharp.
"Remember Angel your friend he is her father I had known him before she explained, her words tumbling out too fast. This man is Otis the mayor of the city that is why Angel took care of you and has been helping us ever since. It is because of him that we always have enough money to give Daddy every day so he will not beat us. Please I am sorry for hiding this from you my brother but I had to..."
"You broke my nose you brat " he spat, straightening and wiping himself off as he turned and stalked away. I watched him go, chest heaving, the taste of iron in my mouth.
"I am sorry sister "I whispered, ashamed and shaking. "I did not mean for this to happen. Forgive me. I do not want you to keep doing this to survive. Let us tell Daddy, maybe he will help"
Even as the words left my mouth I knew the truth. Daddy would not help.