Convalescence (MxM)

Meant To Escape (1)

•TW•

The boy ran as fast as his legs could carry him, a burning sensation spreading through them while his lungs felt as if they were freezing, his breath coming out in pants.

"And stay out!" A man threw his knife, narrowly missing the boys head as he kept running. "Punk ass kids, thinking they can steal from me." The man mumbled under his breath as he turned back inside the shop, closing the door behind himself with an annoyed expression on his face.

All the kid wanted was a small loaf of bread, practically starving. The harsh reality is, around here, kids are viewed as burdensome. And he was no different.

He hid behind a tree, attempting to catch his breath as he glanced back. The man was gone, the door closed. He released his breath, a cold sweat on his forehead as relief washed over him. The poor boy was dirty, grime covering every inch of his skin, his clothes barely clinging to his small body. Due to the snowy weather, he had stolen some pants and a long sleeved shirt that were too big on him. But they would have to do.

Hunched over with his hands holding onto his knees as his breath slowly started to even out, he made sure to take in his surroundings, not wanting to risk anyone else seeing him. No luck stealing from the front, maybe there will be something worth stealing in the back? He thought, swallowing the lump in his throat and hesitantly walking from his hiding place to the back of the rundown building.

Behind the bakery was a dumpster. The boy was too short to look over the edge, looking around the small alleyway and pulling up a crate to the side of the bin. Stepping onto it, he used his hands to pull himself up and over the edge.

Losing his balance, he tried not to yell out in his fear as he fell into the dumpster with a painful thud. He winced, rubbing at his now bleeding elbow as he tried to find his footing among the trash.

The pitiful boy was all skin and bones, having gotten used to surviving off of minimal food. The neighborhood he's in is considered a Rogue neighborhood. The adults barely had enough food to feed themselves, let alone the children. Usually, when someone had a baby in areas like this, they only cared for them until they were old enough to speak. And, majority of the time, they didn't survive.

Ammon's parents abandoned him when he was just 4 years old. It was a miracle he had survived up till now. Tears welled in his eyes as he dug through the bags of trash, his stomach clenching in pain from the hunger.

He didn't know when the last time he ate was, so finding anything would be considered Goddess sent to him.

Luckily, he found two little loaves of burnt bread and a half eaten can of cat food. Despite this, his face lit up with a smile, excited for the meal.

Right there in the dumpster, he sat on the bags of trash, using his fingers as a spoon to scoop out the cat food and bring it up to his lips. It tasted like watered down fish, with an almost tangy aftertaste. He groaned out, eating it quickly before biting into one of the burnt breads. He could taste the char on the bread where the fire had licked it too fervently, making it taste bland with a stale and crunchy texture. He used the remaining loaf to dip into the leftover liquid in the can of cat food in hopes of taking away some of the crunch.

He practically stuffed himself, not bothering to save anything for later, too enthusiastic to have anything to eat at all.

Once he was finished, he stood back up, trying to glance over the edge of the dumpster. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite tall or strong enough to pull himself up and out. He pouted to himself, laying back down into the trash bags and getting as comfortable as possible before cradling himself to sleep in the cold.