𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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The view of ruined places, the smell of old fire. It would put everyone off, right?
Wrong.
Y/n Anderson was not exactly pleasant to be around. Everyone in the city avoided her like the plague.

She was a hobo. Homeless. Hungry. With no money. And wanted by every cop in the city for a dozen murders. Came out of Mexico, nobody knew why or how she travelled all the way here by herself. They were, however, sure that they didn't want her here. She was dirty, ate trash and slept in piss.

And those are just the first of many reasons the citizens of San Francisco didn't like her. She wasn't just an ordinary girl, apart from the fact that she didn't have a home. She was a witch. A secret no one knew about except for her.
Furthermore, she was wise and a good artist. She'd often draw people she saw on the streets, people who inspired her. With beautiful hair for example, or just a nice face.

She also saw philosophical perspectives of life and turned them into deep quotes. But this wasn't always in her favor. Y/n overthinks a lot. It annoyed students from her previous school. She doesn't really have happy memories there either. In fact, there might not even be a single one.

All she ever wanted was a home. Somewhere she belonged. A safe place to sleep. To know where her next meal was coming from. 'Cause now she sleeps on random benches under the bridge, in the cold, dark night. Had nowhere to go.

And of course she was well aware of the people who hated her, or who were disgusted by her. It was okay, she could live with it. It was not like she could do anything about it.

She had no money. She once tried to show up at an orphanage. But once she rang the bell and the door opened, the door was already slammed in her face again. No one wanted to take her in, even though she was actually really nice. Or, most of the time anyway.

Another side of her hated those people. Those rich folks who thinks they can do everything. And it was annoying y'know. Men who think money solves everything. Well, it helps probably a lot, but we all know it doesn't settle all the things on earth.

We'll let the bright, wise side speak;

Hey, why not? If you're rich, it is because you deserve it.

If you end up smoking some hippie's street roach, well, that shit is on you.

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