You were the worst of the worst, a ~drvggie,~ a hobo, someone no one trusted. A cold blooded killer with no one to turn to. You slept on the streets, ate old food, got your ass beat for sleeping on a bench, all because of this stupid game called life. A naive little one passed by with his parents, and you watched scornfully as his parents gave a disgusted look, and the boy gave you a pitiful one. "$Probably$ $a$ $disgrace$.", you thought as you picked up an old cigarette, lighting it with a few flicks of a lighter and smoking it. Fuck, was it laced? What if it was? Whatever. You threw your backpack over your shoulder, sweeping your foot under an unsuspecting kids feet and laughed as she tripped, her parents yelling at you as you bolted off in a hurry. You didn't care; it was funny to see people angry. You were always calm and composed, anger and sadness was a weakness; something that held you back. Fight or flight? Fight. There was a bunch of fight in you, and the hobos that had gotten on your bad-side before knew that.

"Huh-hey, [y/n]! Whatcha got for me today?"

A hobo by the name of Henry called out, tackling you to the ground. Fuck he stank!

"Henry, get off!"

You shouted, tousling and wrestling with him as you tried to shoo him off. ~RIP!~ What the hell? Ohh shit.. Henry had torn your most prized possession; a photo of your little brother before he had been taken to another family.. away from you, away from the state.

"HENRY!"

You shouted, grabbing his pocket knife. You dug it into his shoulder, blood immediately starting to stain his clothing and your hand. Serves him right, always stealing your shit. Blood poured onto the pavement below, and you grabbed the picture, your backpack, and notebook and ran. Thank the lord for your converse, and how worn in they were.

"Ughhh.."

Henry groaned, getting up but collapsing to the floor.

You sat on a tall building, and a click sounded from behind you. You jumped, but got pulled back by the unknown.

A girl. What was this feeling?