I never believed my existence mattered to anyone. Not even the moon goddess knew of me and my suffering.
Until recently, I thought I would be like any other rogue—always hungry, homeless.
A tiny part of me wished things never changed. I was used to the constant hunt, grumbling stomach and fighting for survival.
I thought these experiences made me ready for everything life throws at me.
What life didn't prepare me for was the excruciating pain associated with abandonment and betrayal.
The air was heavy; the scent of sweat and the large ounce of fear sent my entire body on fire.
I stifled the moans about to escape my lips, gripping the mattress while pleading for strength to overcome this phase. My mind was trying to project a future where there would be less of this pain and more of the happiness that I tasted only briefly.
The bitter memories gave me the fuel to keep going.
The small room echoed my ragged breath and occasional screams.
