Work Text:
She's a kid who's born in a relatively bad environment. How so? We're talking about the ground, everything could happen here. But the place she was born was... so so, to say the least. Hard to be somewhere safe but not impossible, a local? Thieves everywhere. Oh you're a tourist? Bandit it is. Honesty is pricey, either you pay it with money or information, anything other than that? Barely a chance.
The crowded street grows quieter by each passing seconds, silencing some heinous act which still runs itself wild in the back of the so alley, if they were to think of it like that. The hands that moves so violently now rest above the mattress of sorrow the kids behold and unclothed for.
Here she was. Inside her house. Waiting for her parents. 'Where is my mama? When will she come home? When will she be back?', was often asked by the kid. Where she went, where she work at, what she do for a living, none are known by the kid herself but remains secret to the imagination.
The house she's in was not her nor her mother's. It was someone else she didn't know of. In her mind, all she could think of right now was her mother presence, all the while with body curling on the concrete floor, cold, barely moved. Legs fragile from so long since it was last moved, cramps, sore and aching everywhere it could spread itself on. Head felt way too heavy to even be held a second too long, throbbing with sensations of pain and sharp objects being torn inside her brain with force.
Confusion mixed with a feeling she's unfamiliar with, fear. Afraid of the situation she's in now, all she could do was hope and pray and wish and...what can she do..? She's just a hopeless kid stuck somewhere she doesn't even recognize. Somewhere smells like, her mother? Does her sense of smell even work at this hopeless point? Was it?