Shadows consumed the alley hidden from civilization, the area where death took the form of a child knocking on a door. The smell of meat left out in the sun for days clung to the air and sought to pull her into its ever-loving grasp of decay. She stopped at a cross-road, where people talked loudly into their phones and laughed with their neighbors. Light battled the darkness of the alley and stopped by her feet. Cinnamon from a nearby stall fought off the foul scent that clung to the alley. People rushed by, unbothered by the teenager in clothes much too large for her.

She stared silently. She lingered by the light, her stomach spinning into itself, growling madly for what people had and she didn’t. She could step out into the light. She could enter the crowd, lose herself in its fruitless drama and fill her belly with scraps of unsoiled food. Her gaze shifted to her feet, where her toes sat dangerously close to where the darkness ended. She reached out her hand, feeling the warmth of the sun on her fingers. She stepped forward, just enough to allow the light to hit the rest of her body, but close enough to the shadows to flee.

The light tore into her immediately, scrutinizing her clothes and questioning the blood stains. It was blinding, and she shaded her eyes with one hand. The light did not stop. It eyed her with judging curiosity, burning every inch of flesh upon her body, tearing out what would not be acceptable for others to see. She felt her heart shudder, every vein shivering in turn. The light was going to burn everything off, she realized. It wouldn’t stop until she was gone completely. She threw herself back into the shadows, stumbling into a wall, gasping for breath as her eyes adjusted to the shadows. They welcomed her with twisted love, soothing her burns with another layer of darkness to wrap around her body. After a moment, she collected herself and straightened. Then she turned and took the path hidden from view.

Here, the light never touched the stone path. Bugs crawled underfoot and bodies long forgotten contributed to the wretched smell she had come to accept. It was better here. It had to be.

She walked through a puddle of something wet, which stuck to her shoes. It was where she lived. She slipped and caught herself with her hands against the stones. It was where her sister lived. She got to her feet and wiped her hands on her shirt. It was all they could do to live here. She continued forward. It had to be good enough for them. They couldn’t go anywhere else. They couldn’t find food anywhere else. Their own mother would not accept them into her home. There was nowhere for them to go.

She was doing her best.

She noticed a burning sensation and found herself mindlessly in the street. She blinked, returning to her own body, and noticed eyes from every angle staring in horror. She looked at herself. Blood was smeared across her shirt and drying on her hands. A trail of blood was left behind her in a form of footprints. A gasp escaped her lips and she scrambled back to the shadows, throwing off hands that touched her shoulders, diving into the security of the murk, and feeling its claws pull her closer. She kept running, escaping those eyes. Escaping the light.

I’m doing my best.