SHADOWS OF THE STREETS

1.

Riddle woke up from sleep, her body ached from the uncomfortable collapsed mattress, with protruding springs, on which she lay. The smell of garbage and decay reminded her of the harsh reality of life on the streets. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the darkness still enveloping the city. Another restless night had passed, sleep was only superficial. She needed to stay alert in case drunkards or pimps lurked again, looking for potential victims.

She was lucky not to have been raped over the years. John always saved her. Until one evening, other homeless men fatally silenced him. "Run!" he shouted to Riddle. And she ran, ran and ran until she ended up here.

Getting up from the makeshift bed next to the dumpster, Riddle looked around. A narrow, desolate alley, full of trash containers and rats scurrying around – this was now her home, a world of filth and hopelessness where survival was a daily struggle.

As she got up, her stomach twisted from hunger, gnawed by pain that had become all too familiar. She hadn't eaten anything for days, and her last attempt to eat was ruined by a violent encounter with a man whose meager remains she dared to try to steal. She still remembered the filthy homeless man's fists pounding her. But Riddle was resilient. She firmly pushed aside the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She needed to find food and water, and she needed it now.

Riddle looked at the nearby dumpster, overflowing with garbage. Feeling a grim resolve, she approached, wrinkling her nose from the smell of decay emanating from within. Clenching her teeth from disgust, Riddle began rummaging through the trash until her hands went numb from the cold. But her efforts yielded nothing. It seemed like the world had long forgotten her, and all higher powers had simply abandoned her. She was barely sixteen, and she was trying desperately to survive in the harsh streets of New York.

With a disappointed sigh, Riddle straightened up, her stomach growling in protest. She needed to come up with a new plan, and quickly. The streets were unforgiving, but she wouldn't let them crush her spirit.

She couldn't go to the homeless shelter because child protection specialists were lurking around such places like hawks, ready to snatch her away in an instant. She didn't want to live in foster care, hopelessly waiting to be taken into a new family, sharing crumbs with other children and fighting for a tastier morsel. But hunger gnawed at her, an incessant reminder of the hopeless circumstances that brought her to this point.

She would have to defend herself, relying on her wits and instincts to survive another day in this merciless world. She ventured out into the streets, psychologically preparing for any impending challenges.

Riddle's footsteps echoed through empty streets as she headed towards the nearest convenience store. Hunger gnawed at her insides, driving her forward without much thought about the consequences. She knew it was risky, but she had no other choice. She had to find something to eat.

As she approached the store, her heart pounded in her chest. Neon sign flickered above her head. Glancing quickly to make sure no one was watching, she stealthily made her way towards the entrance.

The door creaked open as Riddle stepped inside. The store was filled with the smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. She lowered her head, avoiding the bored gaze of the cashier behind the counter, as she walked towards the back of the store.

Her eyes scanned the shelves, looking for something, anything she could steal. Her stomach twisted with hunger, urging her to act. She reached out to grab a loaf of bread from the nearest shelf, but before she could stuff the bread into her grimy jacket pocket, someone shouted:

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Riddle's heart leaped into her throat as she turned around and faced the source of the voice. The cashier stood behind the counter, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, as he pointed a finger in Riddle's direction.