“An angel?”

My brother and I hawked on the dusty streets of Lagos, both of us already accustomed to our newly found reality.

I could physically see and feel the scars forming on our faces as we walked through the maze that had now become our lives, due to the hot sun that seemed to be biting into us mercilessly and the encroaching feeling of exhaustion intensifying with every breath and move we took. This was yet another thing for which we had become accustomed.

Our lives were cold and difficult at first, but they became bearable once we gave up our ambitions to go to school, the need to be seen as humans, and the expectation of being loved again.

We had complete control over these streets, and we knew every nook and cranny like the back of our hands. After more than a year of experience, it was fair to claim that they had become our second home.

********

We were forced to become street hawkers by our mother and father after she became a witch. We customarily bid farewell and best of luck to ourselves after taking out our proportion of products to be sold for the day before separating and going separate ways in order to cover more territory.

Today, in particular, life chose to be a bitch, a sharp thorn in my flesh that refused to budge no matter how hard I tried to appease it. To summarize, I was having a terrible day. Weariness had taken over my body, and to top it off, no one was interested in the products I was selling, which meant I couldn't go home just yet, and to make it worse, the day was already turning dark.

The hunger in my stomach continued to gnaw at my intestines without stopping, and even though this was a common occurrence for both Peter and me, it didn't change the fact that my stomach was burning. Mother normally fed us small rations once a day to prevent us from starving, and even then, only if we sold all of our belongings before returning home each day. So I figured that due to the unsold products that were still on my tray, I was likely to go to bed on an empty stomach again today.

The sensation of tiredness plagued my mind and body as I leaned against the side of a parked car along the now dark road illuminated by the headlights of passing cars, making it difficult for my limbs to travel any further. I set my tray of goods on the ground by my side and then let the silent tears that I had been preventing from falling all day finally fill my helpless eyes. My jaw was clenched powerlessly in furry, and a perpetual frown adorned my face as I was frustrated.

I just wished Peter was having better luck than I was because I couldn't bear seeing my baby brother cry himself to sleep due to insatiable hunger for another night. As it was, he hardly had any skin left on his boney little body.

Somedays such as today, I wished our birth mother had gone with him at least. He was just a year old when she left us; maybe, just maybe, if she had taken her baby with her, his life would have been a little bit easier. And, despite the fact that I knew my birth mother would have been worse than our stepmother because, after all, she had abandoned us without looking back, I couldn't help but wish.

I spotted two young men approaching me as I recovered from my self-pity. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand and smiled. As I waited, happily watching them approach me, for the first time since this horrible day began, I began to feel a little optimistic.

One of the men asked, "Young lady, how much does your bread cost?" as he took a loaf of bread from my tray to examine.

"It's 150 Naira," I said, and the man nodded.

"We'll buy everything from you; do you have change?" he asked, pulling a one thousand Naira note from his pockets for me to examine.

My once-dead heart jumped with joy—finally, I'll be able to go home—my mind sang, and so, without hesitation, I took out my small money satchel—which I had previously concealed under my shirt for safekeeping—and started digging through it for cash.

However, before I could successfully pull out the money and share it with them, one of the men snatched the bag from my grip, and both men bolted, leaving me stunned, terrified, and screaming and chasing after them like a lunatic.

Of course, with my luck, it was obvious that the universe despised me because she made life tough for me by giving me short legs. Keeping up with them proved to be an impossible challenge. In the end, I was thrown to the ground flat on my stomach.

People noticed, but no one intervened. This was my life: a perpetual state of upheaval, unhappiness, and meaninglessness.

My heart hardened as my last hope faded away. I dug myself out of the dirt and returned to my tray. I forced my tears away and began my journey back home to face the music, deciding it was no longer worth it to stay.

********

"Hello there! Are you all right?" A young man in his early twenties chased after me, his voice filled with sincere concern. I scuffed, ignoring his inane query and general presence. Where was he when I was mugged a minute ago? I made a move to continue on my journey without allowing my blurry eyes to be filled with tears, but he quickly grabbed my hand and made it difficult for me to walk, so I violently stopped, turned around, and glared at him.

"Of course I'm not okay. Those men stole all the money I made today, and nobody did a bloody thing about it! So I have no choice but to go home and accept my punishments. Are you satisfied now?" I asked, tears streaming down my cheeks as I vented my frustrations on him while shaking uncontrollably. I felt a strong hatred for everyone and everything around me all of a sudden.

"Please calm down, Miss; I apologize for being late to your aid." He gave a warm smile. I wasn't interested in anything he had to say, so I decided to walk away rather than aggravate myself further. However, his grip on my hand tightened as I made the move, preventing me from leaving.

He was starting to get on my nerves, and I'd had enough of this bullshit for one night. I made a move to bite his hand off of mine out of frustration, but he quickly let go of me, as if he had an inkling of what I was about to do to him. I sighed and moved to leave again, but he caught my hand for the third time, this time with a softer grip.

With my anger at an all-time high, I turned to scream daggers and bullets at him when, suddenly, he dropped some money in my palm and then continued to brighten his entire face with a smile.

"I really hope this makes up for your troubles today, Miss. Meet me right here at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, and I promise to buy everything on your tray," he smirked and waved. He turned around and walked away without saying anything else, leaving me totally speechless.