A Broken Soul and Caged Heart

Serlys sits up with a gasp and wipes sweat from her brow with a shaking hand. Her breath comes in wild gasps and her heart races. Whatever she had dreamt about had not been pleasant-a constant replay of the worst night of her life in the night terrors she had been receiving for months now. The hidden aclove in the abandoned, decaying home was her only escape from the punishing glare of the sun and desperate beggars that would do anything for a spare lump of bread or a coin. The second story of the old building was hollowed out with only beams as the walls and a crumbling roof that barely gave protection to half of the space. Still, it was better than she couldve hoped for. Hard to find and ugly enough to not be a great choice to hide out in, of course she had been forced to fight off numerous vagrants looking for a home.

Rising up from the pitiful excuse of a bed she has made, she sighs as she runs her fingers through her knotted black hair covered in hay. Her bed- if you can even call it that- is a threadbare blanket stolen off of a vendor’s cart years ago and a pile of hay. She scored the pile of hay only two days ago after hopping into a cart of it to escape an angry marketer that had caught her easing his wallet from his pocket. Luckily he had only managed to get one good hit in before she had made her escape, but her split lip still throbs painfully. Running her tongue over her swollen lip absently, she goes through her supplies. Her only possesions include said blanket, a necklace shes had since she was a baby, a pack with an empty water flask, a stale piece of bread, and one extra tunic. Home sweet home she thinks bitterly, nothing like coming home from a unbearably hot day of thieving and climbing to this dusty attic. This at least was better than the crowded alleyways where you always had to watch your back. Her first few years on the streets had been rough and she was only now starting to scrape out a living 10 years later at 17 years old. Her upbringing remained a painful mystery and all she knew was that she was all alone- well almost all alone.

Sticking her hand into her pocket she feels for the two copper pieces she had managed to lift from a distracted merchant and wonders if she could maybe avoid the fight clubs for tonight and wait awhile longer. The underground fights earn her somewhat decent money on some nights, but also leave her painfully bruised which not only makes her already miserable life worse but also makes her face far less forgettable. Not to mention the constant fear of death either from another fighter or an angry bettor or even just a desperate person looking for spare change. There was also the fear of sex trafficking which was a valid concern considering the number of times she had been forced to fight to escape the fate worse than death. Not that she hadn’t occasionally thought about selling herself during her most desperate moments. A painful memory of another time flashes in her head- the one unspeakable time in her life that she refuses to think of. Mulling over the choice of either fighting for spare change or starving herself for another few days, she decides to fight again tonight. Better to fight while she wasnt too injured and make enough to hopefully sustain her for another few days. There had been times when she had been too injured to fight or even stand which forced her to just sit and waste away and worry whether death would come to her before she managed to overcome her injuries. Or even when she once got too sick to even wake but had to lay in a constant fevered state while her one close friend helped her survive by force feeding her water. Trying not to sink into the depressing thoughts of her many near death encounters, she instead tries to ignore the bleak and painful night ahead while getting ready to con her way through breakfast. Pulling on a threadbare tunic, her one pair of pants, and her worn boots covered in holes with threadbare soles that did little to protect her feet on the gravel streets. Next she puts the necklace on taking care to tuck it behind her tunic. . Finally she heads to the market grabbing her tattered cloak for protection against the sun and to cover her identity.