It was her happiest memory. Those children were her family, not by blood but by bond, and the thought of them made her heart swell even in the darkest of times.
Dark clouds blanketed the skies as the sun dipped below the horizon, its final rays casting a fleeting brilliance that could have blinded someone on any other day. But as the light disappeared, so did her sense of connection to the world. Darkness engulfed her completely, suffocating her. All she could feel was her own pain and the gnawing emptiness of her suffering.
It was the last day at the orphanage she had called home for as long as she could remember. The time to leave had come, and with it, the weight of expectations. She had stepped into the world hoping to find something—anything—to cling to, only to be met with the unrelenting truth of a world that cared only for itself. It exiled her, offered no solace, and not a single hand reached out to lift her when she fell.
Piece by piece, her world crumbled. Gang violence in the slums took everything from her: the makeshift family she had, the roof over her head, and the small dreams she had dared to nurture. She tried to patch the growing void in her life with fleeting feelings, illusions of joy and fulfillment that faded as quickly as they came.
By the time she realized the truth, it was far too late. Her world had already collapsed. There was nothing left—no memories to cling to, no relics of the past to remind her of what once was. Yesterday felt like a forgotten dream, and today was a never-ending calamity. With not even a brick left to sit upon, she had no choice but to cross the metaphorical bridge to the other side of life—the darker, harsher side.
She stood on that precipice, gazing into the abyss of the world she had been thrust into. Watching others live their lives above her, she felt the sting of envy. To be at the bottom was to live blind, crushed by the weight of those who never even noticed her existence.
A longing ignited in her—a dangerous, consuming desire to rise above it all. She wanted to know what it felt like to sit at the top of the food chain, to look down at the mortals scrambling for scraps of fame and fortune. Their petty games and meaningless pursuits would become nothing more than a spectacle for her, a fleeting amusement.
So she decided to try everything in her power to keep up with the world. She had accepted it. Work, work, and more work—nothing else. She poured herself into everything, from the smallest of jobs to the ones that seemed utterly impossible to others. There was no warning in her path, no sign of danger, no whisper in the wind urging her to stop. The world had told her to push forward, and she did—blindly, relentlessly.
But as the days blurred into nights, she started to see the cracks, the consequences of overextending herself. Still, she didn't stop. There was no time to rest, no time to reflect. Melina had believed that ambition alone could carry her through. But ambition without balance, without knowing when to stop, was like walking a tightrope in the dark—unstable and doomed to fall.
On a drizzling, dark night. The rumble of thunder shook the ashy sky, and Melina lay on the drenched ground, her blood mixing with the rain as it pooled around her. She couldn't tell how long she had been there. Her body felt heavy, her mind struggling to focus through the haze of pain.
She tried to push herself up, her fingers sinking into the wet earth as sharp pain shot through her whole body. A grunt escaped her lips, and she collapsed again, breath ragged. But she couldn't stay down—not when her life was slipping away. She had always fought, always pushed through the pain, and this time was no different.
Seconds passed like hours as she gathered the strength to move. Melina forced herself to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. The world around her was a blur—only red silhouettes filled her vision, a sight she knew meant she was losing her grip. She closed her eyes again, the scent of blood heavy in the air, its metallic sweetness mixing with the dampness of the night.