Life In The Streets

"Mama?" Kael could barely speak as his little hands trembled against the cold floor panel as he pushed it open, the faint morning light slipping into the crawlspace. His breath came out in short, uneven gasps, his chest tight.

His fingers clutched the golden coin his father had given him, pressing it against his chest. It was warm—warmer than it should be.

Slowly, on shaky limbs, Kael crawled out.

His knees wobbled. His body felt too light, too weak, like he might float away if he let go of the coin.

Then he saw his mother lying there on a pool of blood beneath her head, as her curls fanned out across the cold marble floor.

Kael's breath hitched as his lips trembled.

"M-Mama?" But, she didn't move. His tiny bare feet stepped forward hesitantly.

"Mama," he tried again, reaching out with trembling fingers.

His hand brushed against her cold arms

Kael's little body gave out, and he collapsed to his knees beside her as his fingers gripped the fabric of her dress.

"Mamaaa… wake up," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

But, nothing happened. He could feel the warmth from her hands, when she usually held his face and whispered, my little star.

His throat closed up. The pressure in his chest built and built until it exploded out of him.

"EYAAAAAAAAH!" he couldn't hold it any longer. His small hands shook as they clutched at her still body, his tears falling onto her bloodstained dress.

He couldn't breathe, his tiny shoulders jerked with every sob, his chest rising and falling too fast, too hard.

"P-please, Mama, please…" he choked, his breath came in gasps between the cries with an hiccup.

Kael's face was hot, but his body was so cold.

His fingers curled into fists, pounding weakly against her arm.

"W-we have to go, Mama… Daddy said to s-survive…"

His voice faded into hiccupped sobs.

But she wasn't moving, she wasn't waking up and she wasn't coming back.

Kael's cries grew quieter, breaking into whimpers as he curled into her side. His little body trembled, his fingers still clutching the golden coin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping—praying—that when he opened them, it would all go away.

That it was just a bad dream, that she would shake him awake and laugh, telling him everything was okay.

Few hours later, he opened his eyes and nothing had changed, his mother was still there.

And she was still gone, Kael didn't know how much time had passed.

Minutes. Hours. Maybe forever. His little body felt heavy as he wandered through the penthouse, his eyes swollen and red.

His bare feet made no sound against the marble floor. He walked past the broken glass, past the blood, past the overturned furniture.

Everything was frozen in time. His stomach twisted painfully, but the thought of eating made him feel sick.

Still, he dragged himself to the kitchen, his tiny hands gripping the counter as he pulled himself up

A glass of water. He took a sip as it hit his tongue like acid. His body rejected it immediately, his stomach lurching as he turned and vomited onto the floor.

His throat burned. His chest ached. Kael wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, sniffling.

His vision blurred as he stumbled toward his bedroom, his legs shaking.

His stuffed fox sat on the bed, its black button eyes staring blankly ahead.

He grabbed it, squeezing it tightly against his chest.

It didn't help, nothing did and his lips quivered.

Kael pressed his face into the stuffed fox's fur, his breath came out in shaky little gasps.

He whispered, "I d-don't wanna be alone." he couldn't hold back the tears as they dropped slowly down his cheeks again, soaking into the toy's fur. He squeezed his eyes shut.

********

It was a new day and the loud intense sound of a siren could be heard. Kael's breath caught in his throat.

Kael gasped, his tiny hands gripping his stuffed fox so tightly that its fur bunched up under his fingers.

"The bad men, they were coming." He said to himself as he they knew he had seen them. Most four-year-olds wouldn't have thought that way.

Most would have still been crying too hard to connect the dots, to piece together the danger.

But Kael wasn't like most four-year-olds.

His father had always said he was sharp, always watching, always listening. He didn't always understand the words, but he understood people.

And he understood, in a deep, instinctual way, that the men in black would still come after him.

His whole body felt shaky, his stomach twisting. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what his daddy had said.

"Survive."

Kael hiccupped, rubbing at his wet cheeks with his sleeve. His nose was runny. He sniffled, but it didn't help.

"I… I don't wanna be alone," he whimpered.

But Daddy had said to survive. Kael sniffled again and crawled toward the big chair in the corner, where his small backpack lay on the floor. He dragged it closer, his little fingers fumbling with the zipper. It was hard to pull—his hands were sweaty, and he kept wiping them on his shirt.

Inside, he stuffed the golden coin, his stuffed fox, a small jacket, and the crackers he found in the kitchen drawer. He tried to zip it up, but the bag was too puffy now.

His lip wobbled. His chest felt tight.

"Come oooon," he whined, tugging at the zipper with both hands.

It finally shut.

Kael sat there for a moment, sniffling, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Then he peeked out into the hallway.

"I'll come back... mummy," he mumbled, even though he didn't know if it was true.

His tiny fists clenched.

Then—he turned and ran.

*********

Kael was out in the city which was too big. Kael's little legs were tired, but he kept walking.

His feet hurt. His eyes felt all puffy and hot.

The air smelled funny—like smoke and old food.

He hugged his backpack tight, his tiny fingers clutching the straps. His stuffed fox's ear stuck out from the top, and he reached up, rubbing it with his fingers.

The streets were so loud. So big.

People walked past him fast. No one looked at him. No one stopped.

Kael's tummy growled. He hadn't eaten the crackers yet. He wasn't hungry.

He was scared.

He walked faster, squeezing himself into small spaces, keeping close to the walls.

The lights flickered weirdly. A car honked really loud, and Kael jumped, his tiny body flinching hard.

He let out a small, scared whimper.

I don't wanna be here.

A man yelled something in the distance. Glass broke.

Kael clamped his hands over his ears.

His tiny chest rose and fell fast.

He had to hide his eyes darted around. There—a big, empty space with no lights.

Kael ran, his backpack bouncing against his back.

The ground was rough and weird, with broken walls and piles of bricks everywhere. He found a big metal sheet leaning against some wood and crawled under it.

It was cold. And smelled like dirt.

Kael curled up tight, hugging his stuffed fox to his chest his fingers fumbled for the golden coin.

EYAAAAAHHHH!" The cry burst out of him, big and loud and broken.

"M-mamaaa! D-Daddy!"

His whole body shook with sobs.

His fingers clutched his fox, the fur getting all wet with tears as he cried and drifted into sleep in the dirty corner.