Walk of life

Hood

She sat alone in the darkness, her back pressed against the cold wall, listening to the rats’ relentless gnawing on heaven knew what. The silence should have been comforting, yet it only gave her memories room to breathe.

She remembered the sharp, angry, merciless insults hurled at her by the people who were supposed to love her. Every cruel word still echoed in her mind. A burden,a disappointment, someone who would never amount to anything.

This place had never been a home to her, It had only ever been a prison where every mistake was magnified, every weakness exploited, and every dream met with ridicule.

She could still remember that night. The night her so-called brother saw her true face, a small, bitter chuckle escaped her lips, the look on his face had been unforgettable, first disbelief, then unmistakable infatuation , It was almost amusing.

That night, she had nearly been beaten to death simply because he had seen her after she finished bathing, Or the day the eldest girl beat her so brutally that she broke one of her arms,she had long since lost count of how many times, she had believed she would not live to see another day, and yet, somehow, she always did. Each time, she survived. Each time, her wounds healed as if they had never existed, leaving no scars behind to testify to her suffering.

And then there was the man,she was forced to call a father,the drunk, that fat fool who, on countless occasions, had tried to force himself on her. If there was anything she could be grateful to her mother for, it was only this: her mother always stopped him before he could go too far… only to turn her rage on her afterward.

It was also her mother who had given her the name Devin, forcing her to live as a man in order to hide the truth of her existence.

A dry, hollow chuckle slipped from her lips as the memories settled over her like dust. It almost sounded as though she were amused by the melodrama of her own life but there was no amusement in it.

And then there was the second girl, older than her by just nine months.

She tightened her jaw slightly at the thought,

she never needed to raise a hand. She didn’t have to, her power was quieter, sharper,A tilt of the chin,a cold glance,a voice that dripped with practiced superiority.

She didn’t hit. She directed.

Whispers,Orders, Smirks that lingered just a second too long. Punishments that arrived through other hands, carefully arranged so she never had to dirty her own, She exhaled slowly through her nose.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

The thought came bitterly as memories kept pressing in, one after another, stealing what little rest she might have had. Sometimes she used to pray in silence, begging for salvation or someone to pull her out of the nightmare of her life.

She is tired of everything, tired of everyone.

But not anymore, She could not even remember the last time she prayed. Thirteen years of existence had taught her better than that.

Now, she did not want salvation.