"You damn brat!"
The sound of the slap echoed through the dimly lit dining room.
The room was small and cramped, with peeling wallpaper and a flickering light bulb that cast a dim glow.
The wooden table was old and scratched, and the mismatched chairs creaked under the children's weight.
The floor was bare, worn-down wood, and a single, cracked window let in a draft, making the room chilly.
Noah placed his hand on his swollen right cheek where the caretaker had slapped him. The sting was still fresh, and his skin throbbed under his touch.
The children at the table dared not lift their heads, silently nibbling on their single piece of bread with trembling hands.
"How ungrateful can one really be, huh?" the caretaker shrieked at Noah.
She kicked him in the stomach, sending him sprawling.
He clutched his stomach in agony, already weakened from days without food.
His crime?
