Chapter 1: The Savior
It’s the twelfth day. Twelve days and thirteen hours—eight o’clock in the evening—until I finally bring his bloody group down and restore some peace to my world, back to where it once was.
My room is still dark. Dark like the alleys outside, where that homeless kid lies cold and shivering, holding onto nothing but hope—for another day, another struggle, another survival. Wouldn’t it be better to help him get a proper job? It would help him earn something… though I know child labor is against the law. Otherwise, I would have adopted him, made him sit with me, and taught him.
I grabbed some leftovers and an old blanket—that's all I can provide for now.
The stairs, as usual, were dimly lit, the light flickering. I don’t take the elevator. I’m afraid of it—too narrow, too dark, rusty, making strange noises as it moves up and down. Since the third floor isn’t that high, I can manage with the stairs… at least until I become an old lady.
When I reached him, he had already fallen asleep—probably after a long, exhausting day. I sighed and tried calling him, but he didn’t wake up. So I placed the food beside him and covered him with the blanket. The sudden warmth stirred him awake.
He looked at me, his eyes widening—confused, shocked… or maybe hopeful. I couldn’t quite tell.
“D-do you need something, miss?” he asked.
“No. I just wanted to give you these.” I pointed at the food.
“You shouldn’t be starving, you know.”
I sat down on the old, torn mat beside him. It made me wonder how he endured this cold, hard, and filthy ground during these chilly November nights.
“It doesn’t matter, miss,” he said softly. “I think… life has always been like this. Cold, loud, and hard.”
My goodness. This kid…
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Nine. Shelly told me I was around nine.”
“And who’s Shelly?”
“My sister. She would have been fourteen this year… if she were alive.”
My heart sank. “She isn’t…?”
He shook his head. “No. She died two days ago. She got shot. She was the only one who helped me all these years.”
My eyes filled with tears—not just tears, but something heavier. A girl… barely fourteen… gone.
I took a deep breath. “You know what? Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To my place. Third floor.”
“For what?”
“You’ll stay with me from now on. I don’t have anyone either… so you can stay.”
He looked down at the blanket, thinking. Then he nodded.
“Okay… thank you, miss.”
“It’s alright. Do you work somewhere?”
“No. A man makes us beg. That’s how it goes.”
“You’re not going back there,” I said firmly.
I stood up and smiled at him. Slowly, he got up, holding the food and blanket, still confused—but I was willing. But I know how it feels to have no one guiding you. I’ve been there… not entirely, but enough.
