She was hit, touched, tortured by creeps in London, every time she got away, but the past remained within her body. She was a mistake, unlovable, a true monster. No one fed her, better yet acknowledged her. No one cared. Her body had collapsed, having reached its limit in this new place of dirt yet shine.

Her eyes were closed, she had given up. Yet, just as she was about to fade from lack of food for weeks, a voice called out to her, asked if she was ok, but she was too weak to respond as she laid there hopelessly in some random alley, feeling doomed, but that wasn't new.