Grumble, rumble. He wrapped his skeleton-like arms around himself, doing his best to silence the hungry growls of his stomach. His eyes were red, watering from the pain of his hunger. He hadn't eaten in two days, and had gone without water for twice as long. Perched in the corner of a large stone wall, body trembling from the cold, his swollen eyes followed the people of London as they passed him. It was like he was invisible, like he wasn't even there. No one even batted an eyelash at poor little Logan.
It hand been almost a month since his mother had left him, promising to return. But she hadn't. And now he was all alone, by the side of the road. He had been in London only a few weeks and had no idea where he was or where to go. Him and his mother has emigrated to this country from Ireland and had come here for a "better life". To leave behind the depression and the heartache of losing his father to starvation - and now it seemed he would be facing the same fate. It was more on his mother's behalf than his. Him only being 6 and a half, he didn't quite understand the whole concept of death quite yet, and believed that his father was to return for him and then everything would be alright.
His stomach gave another painful howl and he winced, tightening his arms around him. At that, he knew he would have to find food. His frail legs just managed to lift him up from the cold pavement, using the wall behind him for support as he climbed to his feet and steadied himself. Hobbling towards the opening of the alley, he continues to clutch his hollow stomach. His sight was slightly blurred as he peered out into the buzzing street. Being sat in the back of this alley for so long, he had forgotten just how loud and lively the world around him was. His senses started to come to. He could hear the sound of the horses' trotting and the carriage being dragged along with them. He could smell the stench of human waste wafting in the clogged atmosphere.
Stumbling along the busy streets, Logan did his best to dodge the rushing Londoners. But as hard as he tried, they just seemed to crash into him even more. After an hour and a half of wandering the streets - looking for any form of food or drink he could find - his small nose picked up the warm, mouth-watering scent of freshly baked bread. His hunger carried him towards the lingering smell, leading him to a small bakery store. Logan peered inside with wide eyes. He had never seen so much food in all his life. Stacks of cakes and variety's of bread lined the shelves of the shop, and Logan could feel his saliva drool down his chin at the sights before him, and his stomach gave another even louder howl.
Without even thinking, Logan scurried inside. He ran for the first piece of food he could get his hands on and began to eat, scoffing the bread into his mouth. Once he had finished, he reached for something else, wanting to eat anything and everything. As he dug into a cream-topped cake, a large shadow appeared on the floor in front of Logan. He froze, cautiously turning his neck to get a look. He swallowed the piece of cake in his mouth, more out of fear rather than greed. As his eyes slowly moved up, his gaze came into contact with a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes.
"Are you going to pay for that?" spat the towering man. Logan didn't know what to do or say. But before he even had time to react, a rough hand was wrapped around his fragile neck. The voice grew louder this time, "I said, are you going to pay for that you little rat?!"
Logan whimpered in fear, trying to back out of the strong man's grip, but failing, as this caused the shop owner to take an even harder grip of the small child's neck. He gasped for air as the man's thumb pressed down on his wind pipe, crushing it. Logan could feel the air start to disappear from his lungs, and he panicked, his eyes once again filling with tears, blinding his vision.
The man carried him outside, holding him up high by the neck. Logan wriggled, pushing at the man's hand desperately, his lungs aching for air. With no warning, he man dropped the child's delicate body to the ground. Crack went Logan's skull as it came into contact with the pavement. By this point Logan was on the verge of death. Bruises covered the skin of his neck, a pool of blood forming around his head as it trickled from his blue lips like a symbolised halo. His lashes fluttered, trying his best to stay awake. The monstrous man was repeatedly bringing his hard boot down on the child's ribs, causing them to shatter and more blood to trickle from his lips.
He gave up, letting the darkness take over him. A faint sigh breaking from his lips as he slowly slipped away. The man dusted his hands, feeling quite proud of his sickening handy work as he walked off back into the bakery. Logan had been brutally murdered. He had been deprived of the life head of him like he had been when alive, and all because of a simple loaf of bread.
The people of London just walked past the poor child's body, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a dead body to be lying around. The only person who didn't ignore it was that of a kind rich man. He approached the bloody mess which was the deceased Logan and knelt down by his side. His face was flooded with sadness at the sight before him. Reaching into his pockets, he brought out two round, gold coins, before carefully placing them over the boy's eyes. "At least you're in a better place now," murmured the man under his breath in a gentle tone. "God bless."
