Prologue

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There was once a fairytale about a little girl.

She was young, eyes that brimmed with innocence.

Yet,

Her father drank alcohol.

Her mother had many men.

She grew up without guidance, nor a proper place to call home.

She wore ragged clothes, for her mother coveted all their money, and her father too drunk to notice.

She would wake up every day hungry, watching the children outside who played and ate made her feel lonely.

She walked her own road, alone, without anybody with her.

And only the wind, the wind would talk to her. She knew nothing else but the kind wind.

...

When her mother arrives at home, she would be mocked, yelled at.

Her mother would grab her hair.

Asking why it was short. Calling her ugly.

The little girl didn't understand that.

No one taught her about that.

She would only cry when her mother throws her away after she had gained blue bruises and red wounds.

She walked her own road, clueless, without anybody to teach her.

And she only had the wind.


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