21
Age ten
Streets of London, people of London.
These places are supposed to hold people of high class. Of power. Admiration.
And by far, I have only seen the cruelty, the sheer hatred they have for people who have no money in their pocket.
Living by stealing the few scraps of food left behind has taught me that even the highest of royalty will sneer at one lower than them. Even ones you love, ones who smile in the spotlight and say they are helping those in need, when in fact, they are disgusted by the sight of homeless people.
With a ten-pound note in my hand, crumbled but still brand new, the smile on my face is wide. Nala will be so happy to see that someone gave me so much.
There is a bounce in my step.
Maybe she won’t spend on the white powder she gets and will get us food.
Maybe I should get food myself?
But what if she gets angry that I didn’t share?
I shake my head and continue towards the small room we have. An abandoned building sits tall and cold, a window broken where it faces a small alleyway. We’ve made it our small home.
I can see my own breath, shivering despite my clothes. December is always the coldest month in London every year. The frilly scarf around my neck and the thin dirty sweater I have on don’t help with the freezing temperatures.
As soon as I crawl through the window and jump into the room, I spot Nala pacing. Nala is my older sister, at seventeen years old. Some could say she is a little rude, but I know it’s our situation that made her like that. One day, we were living in a warm house with Mum; the next, we were getting evicted. Mum didn’t pay for the rent that month and was nowhere to be found.
That was three years ago.
Three years of being close to homeless until Nala started bringing in a few items worth keeping. Like a new sweater. Leftover food from her friend. New shoes, which she gave me.
But that scares me.
Mom used to do that and then she left all at once.
She used to tell us about her friend who gave her everything and how nice he was. He had money, and one day she’d take us with her to a good house. She promised, and she still left us.
We were both so confused and yet we waited for her for a year until Nala told me that she’s gone. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was true, wasn’t it? She wasn’t coming back.
She left us for a better life with that friend.
She left her kids behind and chased a life of luxury on her own.
And now I’m scared Nala may do the same.
Her head snaps up as soon as my shoes hit the ground.
“Helia, did you get any money?” Her eyes keep looking around, as if scared, but I know she isn’t.
She gets like that when she takes that white powder.
My hand tightens around the crumbled note. It could be for food today, even tomorrow, and maybe some left for the day after.
If I gave it to Nala, she will take it for herself, and I will have to go to sleep hungry.
She will promise to bring food from her friend and then she won’t.
My stomach twists, the lie on the tip of my tongue, but my sister needs it. She will stop being like this once I give her.
She’s my only family.
Mum left, I never met my dad, and now I only have her.
So I swallow.
Squashing the need for food and wanting to help my sister, I slowly open my hand, revealing the ten-pound note.
Her eyes widen.
“Did you hide this from me?” she grits out.
I flinch. “No, I was going to give it to you for food and—”
“You hid it from me because I get to eat and you don’t?”
How could she think that?
I shake my head, but her eyes look crazy.
“You did, didn’t you? You think I can eat and dress well and you can’t, so you hide money from me to keep it for yourself? You think I’m doing drugs and it is ruining your life, right?” She shakes me once more, her nails digging into my shoulder, and I hiss.
The wind picks up, wrapping around me, and my teeth start clattering.
“No, it hurts, Nala.” I cry out when I feel her nails dig deeper, the pain searing through my skin, deep into my flesh.
“You hate me, is that right?” she shouts in my face, and for a second, I don’t recognise her.
She shoves me away, grabs the money, and jumps out of the window. I am left in silence. For the next three days, I stay there, hungry, cold, and waiting for Nala. She never comes.
Just as the winter is freezing over London, it also slowly starts to freeze my heart.
A thud awakens me. I get up, blinking, only to see Nala.
I smile, jumping up.
“Nala! I—”
She brought a friend with her.
A guy.
Now that I notice, she is dressed very nicely. She looks clean, showered, and her cheeks are a little red. Is she still cold?
“Helia, meet my boyfriend, Kaden.”
I have a bad feeling.
Why did she bring him here when we have nothing to offer? In our hiding place?
And then I watch them take more of that powder. They laugh, drink alcohol, and then their frenzied eyes turn towards me. Nala watches as Kaden reaches out to the small corner I am huddled in and touches my eyes.
“Oh, how beautiful your eyes are,” he murmurs, his speech slurred, his eyes bright red. “You will grow to be pretty. Pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty face.”
Something twists in my stomach, and I try to move away from his touch, but he slaps me, keeping me in place.
My cheek burns.
“You stay still, boy, or I might just carve these eyes out, so no one touches or wants you.”
I frantically look for Nala, but she’s lying motionless on the cold floor.
“I gave your sister a home. The least she can do is let me keep you.”
I try to fight him off, but he keeps wanting to look at my eyes. He is a good-looking man. He shouldn’t think like this.
“My dad told me no one would want me because I wasn’t pretty. But I think everyone will want you. Let me test my theory out once I try to give you a gift.”
I scream when he pulls out a knife and slowly starts to cut down my eye.
“I want to keep this eye. I want it,” he murmurs.
I breathe faster.
I need to leave.
I need to get out.
I can feel the dripping of my blood.
Fear cuts at my throat.
No.
I kick Kaden in the stomach. He falls back with a thump. He is drunk, so he is slow to get up. I run towards the window, only to be pulled back by my hair.
“You need me. You need to stay with me. I own you both!” he shouts, trying to go for my eye again, but I kick his arm. The knife drops out of his hand. I grab an empty glass bottle and smash it on his head.
The pieces fall all over the floor, and I run towards the window.
I can’t come back.
I will have to leave Nala behind and never look back.
My heart hurts. My eye hurts.
It’s so cold.
I jump through the opening, hearing the pounding steps behind me. Then I run and run and run until my legs give out. I let my body sag against the back of a building.
And when I look up, snowflakes fall on my face. The cold barely touches my burning eye.
I can’t sit around.
I can’t wait for people to think they own me for giving me something. Every. Single. Time.
To have power over me just because they gave me one small piece of themselves.
As I bleed on the empty street in London, I know I am leaving my childhood behind, one that was ripped from me, one that was trampled upon, and one that took away my kindness for people.