Chapter 152: Lesson Learned Pt.1
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While her memories of that incident was clear the follow up to where she stayed that night were not. It was as if her body was on autopilot just trying to stay awake and get to a seemingly safe spot. As soon as she was able to find an empty area that had boxes her body crashed underneath one with the bag tightly gripped in her hands.
The event was obviously a shocker for any child let alone one who had become attached to the dead party. If she had a support system and knew how to channel the grief, maybe she would have turned out less jaded. At that stage, the only lessons she learned was how to stay away from people, how not to trust people, how trusting people was equivalent to death, etcetera.
That ideology was deeply engrained in her mind and was reinforced by the multiple other scenes she saw in the coming months. Stabbings and people committing violent acts weren't as uncommon as she had first thought. Yes, the old man was a direct target by someone he used to care for but she quickly learned that there didn't even have to be reason to murder someone. The term 'senseless violence' and 'just cause' entered her personal dictionary.
These only made her feel colder and more numb as time passed. Thankfully, the lessons she learned from the old man and the lingering warmth from the memories kept her going.
At first, she was hesitant to finish the food and water he gave, it felt wrong at the time. Every time she looked at the bun she felt like there was blood on it since the man had died for those very rations. However, hunger outweighed her mind after being hungry for so long. She consumed each bun at a slower pace with a bit of tears but managed to hold it down in her tummy successfully without throwing it up. Those items only lasted her a couple of days since she ate them at a slow pace and it was back to her to find her resources.
The weather was still cold and wrapped her jacket as tightly as possible around her as she walked looking for food. She was going to bring the water bottle with her but she was afraid someone would steal it. Finding a nearby tree she scratched up the bottom of the trunk and dug a hole near it with her hands. The digging took around thirty minutes before she was able to get deep enough to put the water bottle inside, stuff it inside she covered it up with dirt and patted the top to make it look normal.
There was a little water inside and the bottle was bigger than the normal store ones, so she knew that it would be taken from her. If not taken, it would bring her unwanted trouble since the others might ask her where she got it from. To carry around something like that at her age there must be a secret. To say an old man gave it to her and then died, no one would believe her. Instead they would think she did not want to share her secrets and beat her up because of it.
This happened to her a couple of months before she met the old man, she had managed to get food scraps from a random passerby. While it was left overs for them, it was a luxury meal for the poor. When the other kids saw her walk around with something so luxurious as that they quickly targeted her and tried to make her speak. What was she supposed to say other than the truth?
However they did not believe her and she suffered injuries from it, only when she ran away did they stop. Since then she had stayed silent and didn't want to speak, if people did not believe her words or think she was telling the truth then why speak at all? It was childish logic but she stopped speaking because of it. It was also the reason why the old man assumed she was mute and why she refused to bring the bottle out. There was also sentimental attachment to the bottle that she refused to give it up then.
There was a bit of snow falling down from the sky and it melted after touching her b.a.r.e skin. Feeling that it was water she tried to cup her hands to get enough to take a drink. Yet even after standing for five minutes there was barely a couple drops in her hands. She was confused why her hands could not hold it all and why the snowflakes did not fall into her grasp easily. Opening up her mouth she tilted upwards and tried to catch them that way. A couple of them managed to land in her mouth but was not enough water to sate her.
Giving up on the snow, she kept walking forward and tried to look around restaurants for anything left outside. It was fairly early in the day so there was nothing for her to grab making her search for naught. After walking for around two hours her feet felt a little numb and tired, plopping down onto the floor she gave herself a break while trying to stay warm.
That was when she saw another way to live. The spot where she had stopped was near a bakery, you could see it from the distance but she was not close enough to touch it. As she was watching the smoke exit from the building she saw a little kid run out of there and past her direction into the alley. The movement was so sudden that it attracted her attention completely, the little boy running was followed by screams coming from the bakery.
When he moved past her she saw a bun in his hand and someone ran out of the bakery after the other. The person spoke as they tried to follow the boy, "you get back here! Thief!! Stealing my buns, let me catch you one more time!!! Get back here!!!!"
She realized then that the bun had been stolen or in simpler terms, taken without permission from the a.d.u.l.t. The a.d.u.l.t was very angry and tried their best to chase the little boy but was no match for the other. For someone like the boy who was used to these acts and had more knowledge of the alleyways, it was easy to escape someone who had not run like this in a while. The healthy skin tone and extra pounds on the baker's body was enough evidence to support that notion.
After a couple of minutes the baker had given up and walked back slowly to his bakery. All this time she had kept their eyes on them so when the baker was close they saw her looking at him with intensity. Since she looked similar to the little boy, a child from the streets, his look in return was filled with disgust and hatred. The look slightly shocked her since she did not know why he gave her it, all she did was sit in this corner and rest. However, to the baker she was the exact same as the thief who took one bun.
Honestly speaking, the reaction of the baker was exaggerated for the loss of one bun. It was because the bun was taken by a poor child that made him mad. There was no secondary feelings in the man like sympathy or care for a child that was forced to that situation. It was only anger at his bun being taken and it being taken by someone from the streets. People like him looked down on people like her naturally, some of them going as far as to hate their existence entirely.
It was not as if they asked for this life, they only had to make do with what they had. Yet privileged people could not understand that and just looked down on them as if they were superior. That mindset was engrained into the baker and made him feel justified when he took out his anger on her.
"Huh look at you, staring at me for what. I tell you and your little friends, if I see any of you around here and any of you stealing my food.....watch what I do to you!!! Damn poor children, if you are hungry go somewhere else how dare you put eyes on my food! You dirty mutts."
Those words were common but due to her unstable mental state, it made her more mad than usual. She could give a deaf ear when it happened but now she only felt a bitter hatred fill up in her. All she did was sit here and try her best to live, these a.d.u.l.ts just come around and keep bothering her unprovoked.
No one but her would know that this baker was her final trigger into the darker part of life...
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While her memories of that incident was clear the follow up to where she stayed that night were not. It was as if her body was on autopilot just trying to stay awake and get to a seemingly safe spot. As soon as she was able to find an empty area that had boxes her body crashed underneath one with the bag tightly gripped in her hands.
The event was obviously a shocker for any child let alone one who had become attached to the dead party. If she had a support system and knew how to channel the grief, maybe she would have turned out less jaded. At that stage, the only lessons she learned was how to stay away from people, how not to trust people, how trusting people was equivalent to death, etcetera.
That ideology was deeply engrained in her mind and was reinforced by the multiple other scenes she saw in the coming months. Stabbings and people committing violent acts weren't as uncommon as she had first thought. Yes, the old man was a direct target by someone he used to care for but she quickly learned that there didn't even have to be reason to murder someone. The term 'senseless violence' and 'just cause' entered her personal dictionary.
These only made her feel colder and more numb as time passed. Thankfully, the lessons she learned from the old man and the lingering warmth from the memories kept her going.
At first, she was hesitant to finish the food and water he gave, it felt wrong at the time. Every time she looked at the bun she felt like there was blood on it since the man had died for those very rations. However, hunger outweighed her mind after being hungry for so long. She consumed each bun at a slower pace with a bit of tears but managed to hold it down in her tummy successfully without throwing it up. Those items only lasted her a couple of days since she ate them at a slow pace and it was back to her to find her resources.
The weather was still cold and wrapped her jacket as tightly as possible around her as she walked looking for food. She was going to bring the water bottle with her but she was afraid someone would steal it. Finding a nearby tree she scratched up the bottom of the trunk and dug a hole near it with her hands. The digging took around thirty minutes before she was able to get deep enough to put the water bottle inside, stuff it inside she covered it up with dirt and patted the top to make it look normal.
There was a little water inside and the bottle was bigger than the normal store ones, so she knew that it would be taken from her. If not taken, it would bring her unwanted trouble since the others might ask her where she got it from. To carry around something like that at her age there must be a secret. To say an old man gave it to her and then died, no one would believe her. Instead they would think she did not want to share her secrets and beat her up because of it.
This happened to her a couple of months before she met the old man, she had managed to get food scraps from a random passerby. While it was left overs for them, it was a luxury meal for the poor. When the other kids saw her walk around with something so luxurious as that they quickly targeted her and tried to make her speak. What was she supposed to say other than the truth?
However they did not believe her and she suffered injuries from it, only when she ran away did they stop. Since then she had stayed silent and didn't want to speak, if people did not believe her words or think she was telling the truth then why speak at all? It was childish logic but she stopped speaking because of it. It was also the reason why the old man assumed she was mute and why she refused to bring the bottle out. There was also sentimental attachment to the bottle that she refused to give it up then.
There was a bit of snow falling down from the sky and it melted after touching her b.a.r.e skin. Feeling that it was water she tried to cup her hands to get enough to take a drink. Yet even after standing for five minutes there was barely a couple drops in her hands. She was confused why her hands could not hold it all and why the snowflakes did not fall into her grasp easily. Opening up her mouth she tilted upwards and tried to catch them that way. A couple of them managed to land in her mouth but was not enough water to sate her.
Giving up on the snow, she kept walking forward and tried to look around restaurants for anything left outside. It was fairly early in the day so there was nothing for her to grab making her search for naught. After walking for around two hours her feet felt a little numb and tired, plopping down onto the floor she gave herself a break while trying to stay warm.
That was when she saw another way to live. The spot where she had stopped was near a bakery, you could see it from the distance but she was not close enough to touch it. As she was watching the smoke exit from the building she saw a little kid run out of there and past her direction into the alley. The movement was so sudden that it attracted her attention completely, the little boy running was followed by screams coming from the bakery.
When he moved past her she saw a bun in his hand and someone ran out of the bakery after the other. The person spoke as they tried to follow the boy, "you get back here! Thief!! Stealing my buns, let me catch you one more time!!! Get back here!!!!"
She realized then that the bun had been stolen or in simpler terms, taken without permission from the a.d.u.l.t. The a.d.u.l.t was very angry and tried their best to chase the little boy but was no match for the other. For someone like the boy who was used to these acts and had more knowledge of the alleyways, it was easy to escape someone who had not run like this in a while. The healthy skin tone and extra pounds on the baker's body was enough evidence to support that notion.
After a couple of minutes the baker had given up and walked back slowly to his bakery. All this time she had kept their eyes on them so when the baker was close they saw her looking at him with intensity. Since she looked similar to the little boy, a child from the streets, his look in return was filled with disgust and hatred. The look slightly shocked her since she did not know why he gave her it, all she did was sit in this corner and rest. However, to the baker she was the exact same as the thief who took one bun.
Honestly speaking, the reaction of the baker was exaggerated for the loss of one bun. It was because the bun was taken by a poor child that made him mad. There was no secondary feelings in the man like sympathy or care for a child that was forced to that situation. It was only anger at his bun being taken and it being taken by someone from the streets. People like him looked down on people like her naturally, some of them going as far as to hate their existence entirely.
It was not as if they asked for this life, they only had to make do with what they had. Yet privileged people could not understand that and just looked down on them as if they were superior. That mindset was engrained into the baker and made him feel justified when he took out his anger on her.
"Huh look at you, staring at me for what. I tell you and your little friends, if I see any of you around here and any of you stealing my food.....watch what I do to you!!! Damn poor children, if you are hungry go somewhere else how dare you put eyes on my food! You dirty mutts."
Those words were common but due to her unstable mental state, it made her more mad than usual. She could give a deaf ear when it happened but now she only felt a bitter hatred fill up in her. All she did was sit here and try her best to live, these a.d.u.l.ts just come around and keep bothering her unprovoked.
No one but her would know that this baker was her final trigger into the darker part of life...
While her memories of that incident was clear the follow up to where she stayed that night were not. It was as if her body was on autopilot just trying to stay awake and get to a seemingly safe spot. As soon as she was able to find an empty area that had boxes her body crashed underneath one with the bag tightly gripped in her hands. The event was obviously a shocker for any child let alone one who had become attached to the dead party. If she had a support system and knew how to channel the grief, maybe she would have turned out less jaded. At that stage, the only lessons she learned was how to stay away from people, how not to trust people, how trusting people was equivalent to death, etcetera. That ideology was deeply engrained in her mind and was reinforced by the multiple other scenes she saw in the coming months. Stabbings and people committing violent acts weren't as uncommon as she had first thought. Yes, the old man was a direct target by someone he used to care for but she quickly learned that there didn't even have to be reason to murder someone. The term 'senseless violence' and 'just cause' entered her personal dictionary. These only made her feel colder and more numb as time passed. Thankfully, the lessons she learned from the old man and the lingering warmth from the memories kept her going. At first, she was hesitant to finish the food and water he gave, it felt wrong at the time. Every time she looked at the bun she felt like there was blood on it since the man had died for those very rations. However, hunger outweighed her mind after being hungry for so long. She consumed each bun at a slower pace with a bit of tears but managed to hold it down in her tummy successfully without throwing it up. Those items only lasted her a couple of days since she ate them at a slow pace and it was back to her to find her resources. The weather was still cold and wrapped her jacket as tightly as possible around her as she walked looking for food. She was going to bring the water bottle with her but she was afraid someone would steal it. Finding a nearby tree she scratched up the bottom of the trunk and dug a hole near it with her hands. The digging took around thirty minutes before she was able to get deep enough to put the water bottle inside, stuff it inside she covered it up with dirt and patted the top to make it look normal. There was a little water inside and the bottle was bigger than the normal store ones, so she knew that it would be taken from her. If not taken, it would bring her unwanted trouble since the others might ask her where she got it from. To carry around something like that at her age there must be a secret. To say an old man gave it to her and then died, no one would believe her. Instead they would think she did not want to share her secrets and beat her up because of it. This happened to her a couple of months before she met the old man, she had managed to get food scraps from a random passerby. While it was left overs for them, it was a luxury meal for the poor. When the other kids saw her walk around with something so luxurious as that they quickly targeted her and tried to make her speak. What was she supposed to say other than the truth? However they did not believe her and she suffered injuries from it, only when she ran away did they stop. Since then she had stayed silent and didn't want to speak, if people did not believe her words or think she was telling the truth then why speak at all? It was childish logic but she stopped speaking because of it. It was also the reason why the old man assumed she was mute and why she refused to bring the bottle out. There was also sentimental attachment to the bottle that she refused to give it up then. There was a bit of snow falling down from the sky and it melted after touching her b.a.r.e skin. Feeling that it was water she tried to cup her hands to get enough to take a drink. Yet even after standing for five minutes there was barely a couple drops in her hands. She was confused why her hands could not hold it all and why the snowflakes did not fall into her grasp easily. Opening up her mouth she tilted upwards and tried to catch them that way. A couple of them managed to land in her mouth but was not enough water to sate her. Giving up on the snow, she kept walking forward and tried to look around restaurants for anything left outside. It was fairly early in the day so there was nothing for her to grab making her search for naught. After walking for around two hours her feet felt a little numb and tired, plopping down onto the floor she gave herself a break while trying to stay warm. That was when she saw another way to live. The spot where she had stopped was near a bakery, you could see it from the distance but she was not close enough to touch it. As she was watching the smoke exit from the building she saw a little kid run out of there and past her direction into the alley. The movement was so sudden that it attracted her attention completely, the little boy running was followed by screams coming from the bakery. When he moved past her she saw a bun in his hand and someone ran out of the bakery after the other. The person spoke as they tried to follow the boy, "you get back here! Thief!! Stealing my buns, let me catch you one more time!!! Get back here!!!!" She realized then that the bun had been stolen or in simpler terms, taken without permission from the a.d.u.l.t. The a.d.u.l.t was very angry and tried their best to chase the little boy but was no match for the other. For someone like the boy who was used to these acts and had more knowledge of the alleyways, it was easy to escape someone who had not run like this in a while. The healthy skin tone and extra pounds on the baker's body was enough evidence to support that notion. After a couple of minutes the baker had given up and walked back slowly to his bakery. All this time she had kept their eyes on them so when the baker was close they saw her looking at him with intensity. Since she looked similar to the little boy, a child from the streets, his look in return was filled with disgust and hatred. The look slightly shocked her since she did not know why he gave her it, all she did was sit in this corner and rest. However, to the baker she was the exact same as the thief who took one bun. Honestly speaking, the reaction of the baker was exaggerated for the loss of one bun. It was because the bun was taken by a poor child that made him mad. There was no secondary feelings in the man like sympathy or care for a child that was forced to that situation. It was only anger at his bun being taken and it being taken by someone from the streets. People like him looked down on people like her naturally, some of them going as far as to hate their existence entirely. It was not as if they asked for this life, they only had to make do with what they had. Yet privileged people could not understand that and just looked down on them as if they were superior. That mindset was engrained into the baker and made him feel justified when he took out his anger on her. "Huh look at you, staring at me for what. I tell you and your little friends, if I see any of you around here and any of you stealing my food.....watch what I do to you!!! Damn poor children, if you are hungry go somewhere else how dare you put eyes on my food! You dirty mutts." Those words were common but due to her unstable mental state, it made her more mad than usual. She could give a deaf ear when it happened but now she only felt a bitter hatred fill up in her. All she did was sit here and try her best to live, these a.d.u.l.ts just come around and keep bothering her unprovoked. No one but her would know that this baker was her final trigger into the darker part of life...
