6 YEARS PRIOR
Isabel whimpered from hunger, the squeak echoing in the dark, cold air. My stomach grumbles painfully and I moved to avoid pressure on it. I had let her use our one ragged blanket and she still shivered, cold air whipping in from the cracks in the box. Tomorrow, the prospect of standing in the snow on the streets begging for food wasn't promising. I knew I had to. I always gave the majority of the food to my little sister but it was never enough. No one was here for us. Light shimmered from the warm house at the end of the alley. A kind girl lived there and always brought food even though her parents scolded her for interacting with us. Sleep was a gift, that is if you could sleep. Sometimes I would lay on the gravel until the sun rose in a misty hue, stomach grumbling and shivering. My eyes finally closed, but I did not sleep.
