Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Prologue - To Hope & To Wish

The wind pressure heightens, changing its direction in the process as well. The approaching blasting storm is now directed at me as it propels itself through the surrounding trees, passing the nearby stinking riverbed, coming straight for my under bridge safe haven, penetrating the three layers of clothing I am wearing. I shudder as the force of the cold air plummets me to my very core.

The sound of my crying intestines reminds me of the gut-twisting hunger and the fact that I didn't eat anything today. I can feel the intestines turning and twisting, coercing and asking not so silently when they are gonna have something to fill them. The dryness of my throat letting the scrapping unquenchable thirst known, not making it easy on me.

The place where I made camp has no water neither food meaning I have to commute by feet for thirty to forty-five minutes to get to the closest place in the city with a dustbin with eatable food. And it so happens that I woke up feeling... just blah and weak and tired, hence the reason why I am starving and thirsty.

The slippery movement of something at the small of my back sends me jumping away from the wall I was leaning against, jerking up and running from my sit, crashing into the opposite wall, screaming at the top of my lungs like a banshee on steroids.

I take in a big chunk of air, panting, scanning the area at the same time.

I roll my eyes back into my sockets as the memory of me waking up sharing a blanket with rats flashes through my mind. And what a delighting experience it was. Sense my sarcasm. Oh and when I say blanket, don't for a second think I refer to something warm, cushy, and thick because it's a thought five million miles away from reality. It's a worn-out thin bull—thing that doesn't even deserve to be referred to as a blanket.

I feel like the she-devil felt pity for me and gave it.

Valeria snap out... you might be sharing this place with a snake tonight, I chastised myself. That snapped me back into reality, my internal siren going off as I started chanting silently 'Oh, let it not be a snake' over and over again. Only God knows how much I despise those slippery bastards.

I close my eyes with a sharp intake of breath before I start the snake hunt because I would need the courage to complete the task at hand. Just the thought of them sends the coldest chills throughout my body, my sense of normalcy in an overdrive and my phobia hiked to its highest.

I bend down to pick up the bag pack next to me with the utmost caution. Luckily it wasn't that side of the of wall, I sigh in relief. I dig into the bag and search for my beloved phone which by the way is the only possession under my name besides the few samples of clothing. After I find it—my phone, I immediately switch on the flashlight and start the actual search for the source of my scare.

I sidestep away from the wall where I was seated keeping my ears perked for the faintest of noises for confirmation of possible locations. The soft patter of the rain and the crunching of the nonsense—papers, dried leaves, etc— under my feet are only current audible sounds. My eyes glimpse at something that catches my attention. It's a newspaper dated four months ago with the headline 'The Jaarson Girl accused of killing her parents on the run.' I take in a baited breath, the headline hitting me deep to my very core because it's—the headline—is an implication furthest from the truth.  

I ascertain to keep my distance away from the wall as I attempt at dismantling the makings of a bed made with clothing amidst dust and dirt. It has been like fifteen minutes and still nothing. That only means that there is nothing. I am safe... for now that is.