The Slightest Hope

Chapter 2

HARRY'S POV 

My hands were dirty and rough as I rubbed them together for warmth. My stomach grumbled loudly and a few women turned to stare at me. Their expressions showed that I was filth compared to their PRADA bags and Chanel sunglasses, protecting them from the sun on a cloudy day. I shook my head. I just didn't understand women sometimes.  

My stomach growled and I scavenged my pockets for any source of food. No such luck. I passed a trash can and took a quiet peek. Empty and covered with flies. I stifled a gag and silently cursed myself for having no money. Children passed, ice cream drops melting from their cones and I resisted the urge to scoop it up with my nimble fingers. My mouth was parched and I looked for any nearby water fountains. None were in sight. 

I stood in the middle of a courtyard, looking left and right at the wealthy families that roamed. They took one glance at me and shares knowing glances. I was dirty, and slight stubble had grown across my jaw line. My hair was too long and greasy, constantly being raked back from my face. My stomach growled again and a young child stopped to sneer at me. 

"Why don't you take a shower? You smell disgusting!" The child yelled as he stared at me. His mother came and dragged him along, chuckling at his rude comment. Anger fueled through my veins, and it took all my control not to run after them and give them a piece of my mind. I would have too, had my stomach not growled loudly and diverted my attention. 

I knew I needed money. I couldn't eat food remains from the trash cans as they were infested with flies and probably rodents. I scanned the ground, looking for loose change but only stone cobbles and random bursts of green grass appeared. I huffed out a gust of air, visible in the cold winds. I knew what I needed to do. 

Plenty of desirable victims were in sight. Gold necklaces and Coach purses flopped on women's bodies, emanating wealth from their make-upped faces. Jealousy tinged my face red. They would never know how hard live could be without money, food, or even a job. I was tempted to snatch a resting purse and run, but I knew I would be caught within minutes. I needed a strategy.  

Most women held hands of children, vulnerable without their husbands, who stayed locked up during work hours. The children wore fashionable ensembles, another sign of a notorious family. I clamped my hands into fist, resisting the urge to rage towards the women, sharing my opinions about society. But of course they would ignore me, hug their children tighter to their chest as they cried out, afraid of the scary looking man.  

A woman walked up next to me, ignoring my presence as she waited for the bus. A long bag hung off her slender shoulder, almost touching the ground. Perfect opportunity.  

I bent down, pretending to tie my worn loaders. One hand remained on the smooth leather and another sneakily slipped into her bag, fishing for a crisp bill. I felt a pack of gum, a hairbrush, and finally a smooth wallet. I gently attempted to unzip it when I heard the woman gasp. I knew before I looked up that I'd been caught. The woman hollered for help as she yanked my hair, pulling me to my feet.  

"Here! This is the boy! Help!" The woman frantically yelled. I tried to shove her off but she held tight onto my hair, grasping it with firm hands and whipping my head around. 

"Let go, you crazy bitch!" I yelled. I punched her in the stomach , causing her to loosen her grip and scream in pain. And then I made a dash for it. 

I ran past hordes of people, who stuck out their arms, attempting to block me. I pushed past as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I heard people yelling for me to stop but I just kept running, until i didn't know where I was. I ran for awhile until I had somehow reached an unlit alley, which seemed like a safe place to camp for the night.  

The alley smelled like death and was barren except for rats, who I befriended. They kept me entertained as I watch them scurry around, searching for food, just like me. Eventually, my eyelids were heavy with tiredness. I curled up behind a large, green dumpster as I slept. My breath came out in small fogs in the cold air and my stomach growls echoed throughout the soundless night.