You had come from an abusive family. It's been almost 5 days now you've been roaming the streets. 5 days back, your father who was a substance, stabbed your mom and himself to death. Your mom wasn't any better either, she'd hit you saying you were a mistake, that the family was poor because of your existence and if you weren't born she would be living happier and your father wouldn't have to worry about money. Before the scene was reported you already left the place because you had no one else in this town.

You sat in a small alleyway between large trashcans holding your favourite toy- a squishmallow that the neighbour's kid had given you for your birthday. The trashcans were large enough to hide your body because sometimes fights would occur in this alleyway at night and it scared you, but thanks to the shitty family you were forced to grow up in, from a very young age you knew how to control your tears, sounds and where to hide.