Chapter 5

I pushed aside some scraps of paper and bits of garbage.

I was so hungry I didn't care what it was, I just grabbed handfuls of food and shoved them into my mouth.

I hadn't eaten anything all day.

I'd already puked up everything, even the sour water left in my belly.

I crouched by the dumpster, shoveling in food that tasted like heaven compared to anything I'd ever eaten.

I ate until I let out a satisfied burp.

It was like my stomach, all deflated and empty, finally puffed up again, just like a balloon.

I plopped down on the ground, feeling good, and gave my belly a little rub.

Back in those late nights, when everything was quiet and dark, Mom would whisper to me.

She'd say that someday, she was going to escape the village and get away from Dad forever.

She said she had a proper family out there, people who really cared about her.

Back then, lying beside her, I couldn't help but imagine it for myself.

If that day ever came, maybe Mom would take me with her.

Maybe I could finally get away from Dad, who was always so cruel and frightening.

Maybe I could finally live in that nice house and meet all those kind people.

Now that I was full, my mind finally started to clear.

And then it hit me.

It turned out, that home belonged to Mom. Those people, they were her family, not mine.

I had no home, and I had no family who cared about me.

It had always been this way. Nothing ever changed.

I was starting to feel kind of sad.

The wind made my eyes sting and hurt a little.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard footsteps behind me.

Ryan came out.

I panicked and shoved the trash bag back into the dumpster.

But the grease was still smeared around my mouth.

And there were still bits of rice stuck to my shirt.

Ryan gave me a cold glare.

"Who told you you could eat that?" he demanded.

I flinched, stammering as I tried to explain.

"I saw it was just thrown out, and nobody was going to eat it," I mumbled.

His face twisted with disgust.

After he caught sight of Mom's scarred arms, his eyes burned with even more hatred for me.

He snapped at me. "Even if nobody wants it, even if we feed it to the dogs, you don't get any.

"You don't get a single bite."

He was livid, practically shaking with rage.

His hand clenched into a fist, like he'd finally made up his mind for real.

He spat, "Get lost.

"The Lewis Family isn't raising you. If it means I end up in jail, whatever.

"I won't let Emily see you again and go through more pain."

But I had nowhere to go.

Back in the village, whenever Dad got drunk, he would call me a waste of money and throw me out of the house.

And not a single family in the village would take me in, not even for one night.

Here, I didn't know a soul, and I had no clue where I could even crash for the night.

I was terrified, totally lost about what to do.

All I knew was, I couldn't leave.

A kid on the streets, with no food and nowhere to sleep, they'd just die out there.

I racked my brain for a long time, desperate to think of something.

Then it finally hit me, this was the only thing I could do.

I said, "I can work!

"I can sweep, wash clothes, and do all kinds of things.

"As long as I can have a place to eat and sleep, that's enough for me."

Ryan shot me a cold look.

It was clear he wasn't going to agree.

Clutching my shirt for dear life, I pleaded.

"I can eat plain bread, honestly.

"Two pieces of bread a day. No, one is enough."

Ryan turned to leave, clearly impatient.

I hurried after him, my voice shaking as I quickly blurted out, trying to sound brave.

"I can be hit, too.

"You can hit me, yell at me, however you want, I won't say a word."

That was what Dad had always told me.

I was a worthless kid, and my only purpose was to be there when he needed something to hit.

Mom couldn't stand me, and neither could Ryan or Ethan.

Maybe hitting me would make them feel better too.

I couldn't think of anything else I was good for.

Ryan finally stopped in his tracks.

He turned around, and I instinctively ducked my head, pulling my shoulders in.

Even though I said I could be hit, I still flinched.

But I could still remember the sharp pain from just a few days ago, when Dad whacked me with that big stick across my back.

My whole body tensed up, fear making me want to disappear.

But I forced myself to stay put, bracing for the blow, waiting for him to raise his hand and hit me.

But his hand never moved.

After what felt like forever, his voice finally cut through the silence, icy as ever.

"Don't get comfortable. You're not staying here for good.

"The second I figure out how, you're out of here."