Shame, Shame, Shame

chapter 1

Kai POV

"Let me go!" I scream helplessly flailing about as I try to escape.

"Hell no, you did it this time brat and Boss said it was time for punishment," the man snarled back at me.

"Did what?"

"Oh, you know exactly what brat!"

"Ahh! Let me go, I swear I'm sorry. I won't steal from the profits again!"

"Like hell you won't. All junkies are the same, they either steal our merchandise or the money to buy their own. If you wanted to shoot up that much, just go to the Red Lagon. I'm sure they'd love to have more sluts like yourself," he snickers

"I'm not a slut!" I shout, "And I'm not some junkie!"

"Oh really," he glares at me, then without any warning his knee makes contact with my fragile stomach.

Doing all I can to keep the contents of my stomach within my stomach, I arch back, nearly falling down. He grabs my wrist, twisting it outwards to the left.

"Ahh!" I scream.

The pain is so intense, skin, muscle, tendons and bone twisting in an unnatural manner. I am doing everything I can to hold in my desire to scream more and cry. The fear of attracting more people is too great. The risk, greater.

As he reaches with his right hand to cover my mouth, I bite down hard. My teeth sink in, drawing some blood. He grunts in pain, but holds on tight to my left arm still.

I continue to struggle, my attempts to escape met with snide comments and harsh blows. Slaps across my face, bruises along my back, torso, arms and legs. Notable scars cover my entire body, so a few more won't matter, so long as they are from my escape.

"Argh! Your brat!" I land a solid kick in the man's no-no square, and I run.

I run like hell every day to survive, but today I am running even faster. The fear of being caught, the only thing on my mind, pushes me to run like hell to survive. One moment I was in front of him, the next, two blocks away. I am almost home.

I will be fine, so long as I get away.

I duck under the fence near my home, an abandoned building by the port. Neither in the Port Mafia nor the Boss's territory. A safe harbor where I can rest. I may be able to get some sleep tonight, now that would be wonderful.

Pulling up my hood, I duck under a piece of cardboard, past a couple who were high as hell, and past the docks. To be perfectly honest, which I am not, I don't actually live in the warehouse. It's home to a bunch of others, from eight to 19-years-old, and a couple of slimy adults. Each one of them has joined their own "gang", mostly for protection and some 'cause they like to beat people up.

I don't want to be like them...

My home is a car. Mind you, not a nice, spacious model with heating or fancy lights, rather a car in disrepair. It had been left on the side of the street five or six years ago, and with the help of some pesky kids and the remaining tank of gas, I managed to get it into the warehouse/abandoned building. Of course, it is hidden, far away from all of the others and buried beneath cardboard, plastic, newspaper, and anything else I can find. Not only does it appear to just be a pile of trash, the layers of garbage keep in some heat during the frigid months of winter. In no way is it close to being like an actual home, but compared to the alternative, this car is my haven.

I have a relatively thin frame from years of famine and running, so sliding behind the cardboard boxes and through the car door into the car comes with ease. My home has a couple of candles and old lanterns. I always keep the matches with me, never knowing when I have to burn something. Thanks to the cold temperatures living by the water brings, if I ever have food it doesn't go bad. I am freezing cold at night, but why should that matter? I have some old and tattered blankets that I'll cover myself with if that becomes a problem.

Of course, the front seats are up, but since I am sure this car had crashed at one point, sitting up there was rather uncomfortable. As such I had converted the back seats into a small room I call home. And that is where I am right now, nursing my sore arm beneath the covers within my sanctuary.

It took all I had not to fall asleep right away. But as the darkness grew, the temperature dropped, and the candle light dimmed, I drifted off. Sleep took over, pulling me into restless nightmares.

...

There is a child I see every night in my dreams. She is a small girl, bones peaking out beneath her pale skin. She doesn't speak to me. She just sits there, on the ground of a white room with white walls and white floors. She sits in a white gown, staring at a piece of white paper. She doesn't look up. Even if I call out, she doesn't look up. It is as if she cannot hear me, as if there is a glass wall separating us.

I can remember her so well. The way she would play, thinking the world was all wonderful and filled with more people like her. In truth she was alone. She had been forgotten and abandoned.

Her parents, disgusting beings, were gone. She'd done it.

In my dreams there is a little girl who starts a fire. She burns down all that surrounds her. Everything she ever saw was turned to dust and rubble. She had not managed to escape unscaved. On her back I see scars. A reflection of the fire she used to kill those people.

The flesh of a quiet little girl, who no one feared. A girl who no one believed could cause them harm. The little girl who'd killed them all. All the disgusting people who hurt her.

But even with these scars I do not fear her. I may fear the Boss, but not her. I know her too well. I know her fear, her pain, her anger. I once felt her love, I don't anymore.

Any love I had, died that night–the night I burned my past.

Word count : 1097