Ill

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The boy coughed and sputtered even while he clutched his chest, he fell onto the cold ground of the streets.


He heard his sister scream but he couldn't comfort her, he couldn't even breathe.


-


He should have noticed sooner, the rasp in his voice, the fever rising within him, but he hadn't he had been careless.


People who got sick didn't recover in this part of the district, they only faded away until they died.


Just like how his birth mother had passed.


Just like those corpses laying in frozen alleyways dotting the Brothels.


Maybe, at least if he died, his sister might survive. 


He hoped the woman, Airi, who had been about to take them in, wouldn't go back on her promise.


He hoped his sister might survive under the care of this stranger whom they had just met.


But maybe he was being too optimistic, maybe it was all a lie, maybe this woman would turn her back and look away just as everyone else had done since the day he was born.


He wanted to cry, to scream about the injustice, the cruelty of the world as he remembers the children with parents who loved them, the children which had everything he and his sister did not, they lived in loving homes, had parents who provided and cared for them, and warm beds, a steady supply of food.


He felt tears drip down his cheeks before he closes his eyes.

But last thing he felt before the world became silent, was a feeling of warmth.


Edited 9/25/2022

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