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My body slid against the brick wall, my legs were sore from running and a burning sensation spread through my lungs. I glanced at my bloody palms, pieces of glass stuck to my hand.

I cursed under my breath as I tried to take them out, wincing in pain as I worsened the bleeding and pushed the pieces of china even deeper.

I stared at the ground blankly, feeling nauseous and utterly hopeless.

Why couldn't I have a loving family?

I blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. I flinched when I heard footsteps coming my way, glancing to my right I noticed you.

You were glaring at me with your hands tucked into the pockets of your leather jacket.

I saw it again, the pity in your eyes.

You came closer, standing directly in front of me. You knelt down and ran a hand through your silky hair.

❝ Poor thing.❞

I glared at you intensely before abruptly standing up, hiding my wounded hands behind my back.

❝ I don't need your pity. ❞ I spat before leaving you all alone in the alleyway.

Cold Blood || jhsWhere stories live. Discover now