A lone girl sat curled up under a tree, coughing. She was weakly unable to move or feel much of anything. Staring out into the distance, her head hung low with a miserable look as a figure approached her. Kneeling down, the girl didn't have the energy to look as the figure spoke. "What's your name?"
"J… Jehovah." She meekly spoke, coughing on the last breath shivering.
"Jehovah." The figure smiled, kneeling down slowly lifting her head making eye contact. "My name is Stella. Where are your parents?"
Jehovah's hand slowly rose, shaking pointing to the blazing village. Stella turned, confirming her suspicions. "Bad men attacked. They took my mum…. Papa didn't come back."
"That's how it is. You poor child denied of everything you had. Denied of a future, one you rightfully deserved." Stella muttered, turning away. "You can rest easy little Jehovah. The bad men are gone. I took care of them."
