Beggar

Shan R.K

Completed

Introduction

Table Of Contents

Introduction

Feminism

"When I was younger, I was a beggar by circumstance, When I got older, I remained a beggar by choice."

All Chapters

Completed

Chapter1:Beggar
Chapter2:Beggar
Chapter3:Zero
Chapter4:Zero
Chapter5:Beggar
Chapter6:Beggar
Chapter7:Zero
Chapter8:Zero
Chapter9:Beggar
Chapter10:Beggar
Chapter11:Beggar
Chapter12:Zero
Chapter13:Zero
Chapter14:Beggar
Chapter15:Beggar
Chapter16:Zero
Chapter17:Zero
Chapter18:Killer
Chapter19:Beggar
Chapter20:Beggar
Chapter21:Beggar
Chapter22:Beggar
Chapter23:Zero
Chapter24:Beggar
Chapter25:Beggar
Chapter26:Beggar
Chapter27:Beggar
Chapter28:Zero
Chapter29:Zero
Chapter30:Zero
Chapter31:Kylie Bray
Chapter32:Kylie Bray
Chapter33:Beggar
Chapter34:Beggar
Chapter35:Beggar
Chapter36:Beggar
Chapter37:Zero
Chapter38:Zero
Chapter39:Storm
Chapter40:Beggar
Chapter41:Beggar
Chapter42:Zero
Chapter43:Zero
Chapter44:Beggar
Chapter45:Beggar
Chapter46:Beggar

Chapter1:Beggar

The wind is colder today, makes me wish I had something warmer than the thin hoody I nipped off some kid two years back. I shiver in the small space between the bins hearing the raucous coming from the building I'm leaning on. A year ago, it was just a rundown 3-storey dump. From today, it'll be known as a club called, Lazers. The people scream and cheer. Their loud laughs echo in my dead soul. I've never known a day of being normal or having a hot plate of food to eat. I don't even know what it feels like to have a bath. The streets of Washington have been my home since the day I was born. I think I stayed in the hospital a few times but I'm not sure, I was too young to remember. It's safe to say my mother loved me a little too much, because she wouldn't give me up. She rather I be born without a blanket to keep me warm than abort me or give me up for adoption. Many times, she explained things to me, she'd say that I was a love child, and my daddy would one day find us and take us to his home. But he never came, and my mother didn't seem too beat up about it either. As the years went on by, I learnt to survive on these streets, I even learnt to smile. Somehow by sheer luck my mother managed to get me in a school when I turned seven. I was the dirty kid. The one with lice in her hair. The pity child who was always taking the lunch or scraps other kids left on the back wall during break. By the end of the first year they called me Street girl. No one played with me, but I never let their words or actions bother me. I kept my eyes on my school work. My mother told me that if I focused on my grades and finished school, I'd be able to get a job when I got older. I remember just thinking that, we wouldn't have to stay on these streets. Shelters weren't an option; they were the worst place we could go. We once ended up in the one on 16th Street. We both had nothing to eat for two days. We were starving and I was getting weak. There was no other choice. My mother tried everything to get a buck but no one was feeling generous, not even for some scraps to eat. It was during my summer break. While most kids ate their bellies full in those weeks, I was lucky if I got one meal a day. I never had a full belly then, didn't even imagine what it could feel like, but I didn't complain. I was alive, had all my fingers and toes. Whenever I did complain about hunger pangs or frozen fingers my mother said I could've been unluckier. I could've been born without my arms or legs. My mother's sanity had been questionable from time to time but she never let me beg, even when I asked. She always stashed me in some corner behind a bin or in an alley. Sometimes on weekends I'd sit on the pavement watching the cars go by. But the day we went to the shelter was a bad day. I'll never forget that day. The nip in the air sent chills in my body. My small feet tripping over itself trying to keep up with my mother's hurried steps. Her grip on my hand was so tight, it pained. We got there just as they were finishing up, and she rushed us straight to the queue for the free sandwiches. I think I was around eight. A group of the people who ran the shelter saw me that day. They tried taking me away from my mother by locking me in some storage room. I was screaming and crying. I remember how I bit the lady that pulled me away. I think I scratched her too, I'm not sure, it was a while ago.

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