Taciturn

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first piece of writing uploaded on Wattpad, so I'm playing with the format.

I put my hands together, begging for something, anything, to let me survive. I swallowed, and my best friend Riley appeared and nudged me gently, showing me some bread he'd managed to snag, knowing the punishment if he was caught stealing. We split it evenly, and I thanked Riley with a meaningful hug. Our joy dissipated quickly, with the appearance of a man in an apron splashed with flour, and a chef's hat. He looked furious, and slapped Riley across the face. I pleaded with my eyes with the baker, asking silently for him to stop.

A nearby street vendor, a butcher, handed the baker a large butcher knife, and Riley took his sentence willingly. Tears escaped my eyes, as Riley's hands were ungracefully ripped off his body. Blood stemmed from the wounds, and the street people didn't care whether Riley lived or not, they just cared if justice was served. Riley's face was grim and I could tell he was struggling to hold on. Tears escaped his eyes, and I mimicked the wrapping of cloth around Riley's arms to indicate I needed something to keep Riley from dying. The baker walked off, finished with us.

Riley was broken out of his trance and whispered a feeble request for cloth. One man, a street vendor, took pity on us, wrapped some cloth around Riley's arms, and it stilled the blood, at least for now. We thanked him, and we disappeared into the horde of people going somewhere, anywhere.

I hugged Riley to my side, both of us permanently wearing scars of our survival.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was created by me, and no, there is nothing wrong with my psychological health ;-). Thank you for reading my short story.