Hope Age 15, Joy Age 3
Sometimes she wonder what will be the life be if she can just end it with the flick of fingers and sometimes she wonder what it will take to be happy without thinking the end first.
She Name herself Hope because she don't have a hope and what's better than to have something you can't have. At least she can say she have a hope maybe to humor herself in this living shit of world, she lives in. But what can she say when she have the power to end it but she still choose this shit.
Walking alone on the side of the road in a long trouser and even longer shirt she borrow from the dumpster near the dingy clinic she regularly go. Although it's smells but it's doing the job of coverage which is the main goal because hope can't afford to be seen in the red purple awesome patches of art dickshik or we say dip-shit does on her last night because he can't handle the girl skin without colors. Kicking the stone and looking for any change she can find on the path, she talk to herself because when you have nobody to talk or you are an anti-socialist you develop the habit pretty fast.
"Maybe that's why, I am having the issue." Thinking some more she continue the walk toward dip-shit house. Opening the front door she sense something off because the whimpers she's hearing doesn't belong to her for once and she can't stand that someone else is having the same hospitality as her. So she continue to walk toward the whimpers and what she say not only brought tears in her eyes but also rise the issue she's having with her self more and more. The Voice get lauder and lauder now. The pressure continues to get more severe it's like something within her wants to be free to protect the kid on floor.
"Ah there girl.... Come here meet your my new canvas.... Isn't he cute little thing with whimpers even smaller than yours....." he said while continue to poke the kid with his shoe and with so much passion in eyes.
She has endure the torcher on the hands of this monster from the time she remember but this is too much for her, seeing the small child in the fetal position while bearing the kicks something snaps in her. She take a deep breath and spoke thinking the worst
"Sir please leave the child alone" she said in a small voice not to sound challenging.
"Ah I think so too girl that it's enough of a welcome for the boy" surprising her and continuing his path toward his room leaving the child there.
She hurriedly walk toward the kid on floor and pick him up very difficulty because for her he's heavy and take her to her room to see his condition. The boy is unconscious or asleep she can't tell. Cleaning his wounds with tears flowing she put him in one of her old shirt and lie beside him. The boy repeating "monster..... monster" in his sleep.
She don't know why she suddenly felt so much protective of the boy to even consider beating the dip-shit downstairs. But one thing is clear that the kid will not suffer from the hands of the monsters she had to suffer all along. With that she face the window and lost in her thoughts with the boy tucked protectively in her arms.