was it worth it?

broken

Linka's pov

I looked through the window of the house. Everyone was eating, and what do I get? Crappy food in a bowl. A god damn dog bowl. It had always been like this. Ever since I was old enough to take notice. If something bad happen, I'll be either grounded or punished.

I sighed as I sat against the wall in my black wife beater and my dark blue soccer pants. It doesn't do anything against the weather. I looked at the ripped up blanket that mom . I sighed and grabbed it. I wrapped it the thin fabric around myself and threw the food out. I felt my eyes get heavy.

Just as I was about to go to close my eyes, I saw something move and I shot up in a panic. I searched for the thing that moved. I didn't see the thing that moved. For the rest of the night, I did not sleep. I felt something off. And for the rest of the coming weeks this went on. I didn't sleep. And each night I would go to the neighbor's house and go through the trash for food.

I was getting sick from eating the food. I knew that the man was doing something to the food. I just didn't know what. He must think that I'm a animal. My stomach was hurting and I was in pain. I got up and went to the next yard. I looked for any other person on the street.

I silently opened the lid of the trash. It smelled nasty, like it always did, and had a very weird side smell to it. I tore open the bag and rummage through it. And just as I had found a half eaten steak, a hand shot out and grabbed my shirt. The person roughly pulled me away from the trash can, tipping it over and spilling the contents inside.

I was slammed against the fence with the smelly, old, half eaten food in my hand. My eyes were wide with fear as I looked into the angry blue eyes of Brock Samson. He had no shirt on. He had war paint on his face and chest. He had army pants on. "What are you doing on my yard in my trash?" He growled at me and I shook in pure fear.

Everyone didn't want to get on Brock's bad side. The last person who did was never seen again. My mouth moved, but no sounds came out. I held my prize to my chest, leftover sauce got onto my shirt. He slammed me into the fence again.

"Tell me now!!" He hissed at me and finally I got my voice to work. "I was just hungry! Your trash always had the best food! I was just hungry!" I squeaked out after making my voice deeper. I held up the half eaten steak in my hand. His eyes flicked over to my prize and me. His eyes softened as he let me go. He was the only thing keeping me up. I would've fell to my knees if he had not caught me.

"Where do you live?" He asked softly. I choked out a laugh. "I live next door, but they locked me out of the house because they are so god damn superstitious. They probably had sold off all my stuff." I said and he growled loudly. I jumped a bit in his arms and he stopped. He pushed me and held me at arm's length.

He gave me a once over. "Get inside." He said and I did just that. He pulled me into the kitchen. He forced me to sit down and took the steak from me. I sent him a glare. "Hey!" I said as he threw it away. He glared at me darkly. "You are not eating that." He snapped and I glared at him. "Why do you even care anyway?" I asked but he didn't give a answer.

He just made a meal. Once it was done, he put the food in front me. My eyes flicked to him and then the food. It smelled so good. "Why are you doing this?" I asked and he sighed. "Its because you remind me of me at your age. But what's worse, to me, is that you know that you don't matter to the ones who is supposed to love you." He said softly as he sat down. A tear ran down my face because it's true. I don't matter in their eyes.

I sighed softly and took a bite. My eyes went wide with shock. The taste was better than the smell. Within 10(or maybe 5 min) minutes, all of it was gone. "Thank you." I said softly as I looked up at Brock. He nodded at me. He stared at me for a few minutes. He seemed to be in a trance.