CHAPTER 12

Life on the Streets

The cold bites through my thin jacket as I huddle against the brick wall of a convenience store. The city moves around me, uncaring. Neon lights flicker above, casting eerie shadows on the damp pavement. My stomach twists with hunger, but the real ache is deeper—an emptiness gnawing at my soul.

I tug my hood lower, trying to disappear into the background, but the weight of survival presses heavily on my shoulders. I never thought life would come to this. One wrong turn, one broken trust, and suddenly, the ground beneath me collapsed. No family to run to, no friends willing to take me in. Just me and the streets.

A man stumbles out of the store, reeking of alcohol, tossing a half-eaten sandwich into the trash. I wait for him to stagger away before I move, my pride screaming as I dig through the bin. The bread is soggy, the meat questionable, but hunger swallows hesitation. I take a bite, chewing slowly, barely tasting it.

"Didn't take you for a scavenger," a voice drawls behind me.

I whirl around, muscles tensed. The speaker is a girl—maybe a few years older than me, with short-cropped hair and sharp eyes that miss nothing. She's wrapped in layers of mismatched clothes, her boots scuffed beyond recognition. A survivor, like me.

"What do you want?" I mutter, wiping my mouth.

She smirks. "Relax. You're not the first to raid this bin, and you won't be the last. My name's Riley. You?"

I hesitate, then sigh. "Celeste."

"Rough break, Celeste?" Her gaze flicks over my trembling hands and too-thin frame. "You new to this?"

I don't answer. She already knows.

"Come on," she says. "I know a place where you won't freeze to death tonight."

I should walk away. Trust is a dangerous currency out here. But exhaustion wins over suspicion, and I follow her down the darkened alleyways.

The "place" turns out to be an abandoned building, its windows boarded up, its insides smelling of mildew and desperation. A few other souls linger in the shadows—watching, wary. Riley nods to a lanky boy wrapped in a tattered blanket. "That's Theo. Over there Marcy."

Marcy barely acknowledges me, focused on stacking crumpled newspapers for warmth. Theo offers a nod but doesn't speak.

Riley tosses me a thin blanket. "You can stay if you don't make trouble."

I curl up in a corner, pressing the blanket around me, but sleep doesn't come easy. The city hums outside, sirens wailing, lives moving forward while mine stands still. I used to have dreams—ones filled with possibilities. Now, survival is the only goal.

---

Morning comes with harsh sunlight streaming through cracks in the boarded windows. My stomach grumbles as I watch Riley and Theo share a stale bagel. Marcy has already vanished.

"You want to eat, you work," Riley says, tossing a crumpled flyer at me. "Help Wanted. Kitchen work. It's under the table, so they won't ask questions."

I grip the paper, my fingers smudging the ink. "And if they don't hire me?"

"Then you get creative." She grins. "Come on, I'll show you."

---

The diner smells like burnt coffee and grease, the air thick with chatter and clanking dishes. I hesitate at the entrance, my reflection in the window barely recognizable. Dark circles under my eyes, chapped lips, hair tangled beyond repair.

A woman in a grease-stained apron eyes me. "What do you want?"

"A job," I say, my voice is steady despite the nerves. "I can wash dishes. Clean tables. Anything."

She snorts. "You got experience?"

"I learn fast."

She studies me for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she jerks her head toward the back. "You break anything, it comes out of your pay."

Hope flickers in my chest as I tie an oversized apron around my waist. It's not much, but it's something.

---

Days blur into weeks. I scrub dishes until my fingers prune, wipe down tables until my legs ache. The pay is barely enough for a meal, but it keeps me from starving. Riley and Theo teach me the rules of the streets—who to avoid, where to sleep safely, how to barter for essentials.

One night, as I leave work, I hear the whisper of footsteps behind me. My heart pounds. I glance back. Two figures in hoodies move closer.

"Hey, girl," one of them calls. "Got a dollar?"

I walk faster.

The second one laughs. "Come on, don't be rude."

Panic surges. I take a sharp turn into an alley—bad decision. Dead end.

They close in, grinning.

"Look," I say, keeping my voice even. "I don't have anything."

"That's too bad," the taller one sneers. "We'll have to check for ourselves."

Before they reach me, a blur of movement slams into them. Riley. She swings a broken pipe, her expression hard. "Back off."

The two hesitate, then spit curses before retreating into the night.

My knees tremble. Riley smirks. "You owe me."

I let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. I do."

---

Winter settles in like an unshakable sickness. The wind cuts through every layer, and hunger gnaws at me constantly. Even with the job, it's not enough.

One evening, Theo doesn't return. Marcy mutters about him getting desperate, taking a job from a guy who promised "easy money."

Riley clenches her jaw. "That never ends well."

A week later, we found out she was right. Theo's body turns up in the river.

The news sends ice through my veins. He wasn't just another nameless soul—he was one of us. Gone because he tried to survive.

"That could've been any of us," Marcy murmurs.

I grip my fists. "No. It won't be. We have to find a way out."

Riley scoffs. "And go where? There's no place for us."

"Then we make one." My voice is firm, surprising even myself.

She studies me, something shifting in her gaze. "You got a plan, Celeste?"

I exhale, determination hardening in my chest. "Not yet. But I will."

For the first time in months, I feel something other than fear—something dangerous and powerful. Hope.

That night, as I huddled under my thin blanket, a thought gnaws at me. I can't stay here forever, waiting to become another name whispered in grief. There has to be a way out. A way to break free.

And I'll find it. Even if it kills me.