"Don't talk like that," Wilfred said.

Scarlett's tears continued to fall, but this time, they were for herself, not Wilfred.

"It's true," Scarlett said, her eyes hollow as she spoke to him. "Every time I have a nightmare, I dream that no one will take care of my body. I have no family, no friends. If I die, it will be as if I were garbage." Wilfred tried to comfort her. "That day will never come."

Scarlett closed her eyes, feeling a deep sadness she could not overcome. She had always been different from other girls.

Others had parents while she did not. Her life was filled with killing. People said her parents sold her for two thousand dollars.

The idea that no parent would sell their child was ridiculous. She was the proof that some parents did not love their children. They wanted boys, not girls, and sold her without hesitation.

Since she could remember, her life was about training to kill and steal. Her childhood was filled with beatings and coldness.

Sold into a life with no choice, she became a killing machine. Knowing this, she still had to jump into the pit because refusing meant death.

She often wished she had never been born. It would have been better than being trafficked into a criminal organization and forced into a life of crime. She wanted to be a good person but was not allowed to from birth.

Scarlett wondered if she had ever truly lived for herself. The answer was no. She lived a life of mere survival, as Sawyer had said, her life was cheap.

parents who did not love her, who

nothing was truly hers. Only with Wilfred did she

He had a personality and knew what he wanted. She did not. She could not control her fate, so

Maybe this was Wilfred's only source of happiness. If she was not happy, why take

and death

she still cared for

the streets aimlessly, suddenly unsure

sky had fallen, and she could not trust anyone

were real and solid, but she had been told she was poisoned

healthy yet be so

not process everything at once. It

it was a dream. But pinching herself

were somewhat vacant, lacking vitality. She walked slowly, bumping into a

the

Nina apologized and kept

set

sorrow, darkened as if it might rain. People hurried home,

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