Unwanted

Rule Two: Don't Look In Mirrors

That night, I dreamed I was talking to Luke again. Except this time, he was an old man, wrinkled, his clothes torn and tattered. He was begging on the streets, and I had nothing to give him. The look in Luke's eyes was enough to make me cry. He was alone, scared, petrified even. I awoke sweating furiously, my breaths short. The worst part was, I knew that look in his eyes. It had been the same one in mine 8 years ago when I was only 9 years old, and my parents had brought me to the bridge I now lived under. They forced me out of the car, and before I could figure out what was happening, they drove off. That was the day I officially became homeless. Since that day, my only life goal was to go unnoticed. To avoid people the best I could. To be invisible. I found the less attractive and interesting I looked, the less people noticed me. Before long, I had learned how to sneak up on people and pickpocket them before quietly slipping away unnoticed. But after the first time I was caught and punished, I never did it again. I learned to survive by begging and dumpster diving. By staying in the shadows and blending in. Luke would have to learn that through time, just like I had. I figured my day would go the regular schedule. Wake up, beg for money, eat lunch, return home, rest, dumpster dive, eat lunch leftovers if there are any, sleep, repeat. But by the time I had gotten to return home, everything had changed.