Just a Homeless Girl

Chapter 1

Hi 

My name's Erin. Erin Shay.

Well, that's one name I could go by. I might also be Alice Tomlinson, Evelyn Cahill, or even Danielle Pucket. It wouldn't matter. I don't have a name. Never had, never will. Maybe I did once, but my parents didn't stick around to tell me exactly who I was.

You see, I have no family, nor friends. When I was born, my family abandoned me. They put me in a box and left me on the streets of Toronto. I still have the box but I grew out of it. Anyways, when I was just a tiny baby in a box, a little stray puppy came by. Sparky. He is now my best friend. My best guess is that he noticed me because I was crying. He stayed by my side, barking. Many people passed us, not even stealing a glance to even check what might be in the box.

Then, a child, maybe four years old, stopped by to pet Sparky. That's when he noticed me. He called for his mother who was up ahead. She hadn't noticed he had left her side. She ran back to her little boy, ready to scold him for leaving her.

But she saw who was in the box. Me. Lucky for me, my parents had only left me a day before and it was the middle of July. The woman took me and Sparky in and we lived with her for four years. I was too young to know her name and she was barely ever around. The little boy I considered my brother. His name was Ben. This was my family.

Then one night, after living four years with them, a stranger came into the house. Everyone was asleep. I slept in an empty closet. It was big enough for a toddler. I didn't have a proper bed. I slept on a mattress that was on the ground. I woke up to the sound of gunshots and Sparky barking. I could now walk and talk so I crawled out of bed and went to Ben's room.

He was asleep in bed. I went over to check on his mother. She was slumped on the ground in a bathrobe. I walked over to her and tapped her shoulder. She didn't move. I walked around her to see her face. Her eyes were wide with terror and there was a hole in her chest. She was lying in a pool of dark liquid.

The stench was too much to bear. I gasped. "Sparky!" I cried. "Ben!!" I ran back to Ben's room. I ran up to him to tell the eight-year old boy the terrible news. But I couldn't. Just like his mother, there was a hole in his chest as well.

Ben was dead.

"No..." I moaned. Suddenly, I heard a bark. I ran downstairs as fast as a four-year old could. At least Sparky was okay.

The door was open and a breeze flowed into the house. I couldn't stay here. For all I knew, the murderer could still be here. I grabbed Ben's lunch box and packed as much food as I could into it. I took his jacket too to cover myself in it. "C'mon Sparky," I said. We headed out the door and ran as far away as we could.