1 The Past

In which the title of the chapter says it all

I wandered the streets. Actually, scratch that. I wandered the streets alone. A shadow loomed over me. It was mine, of course, except sometimes it wasn't there. The sky was enveloping the moon as darkness dawned. I reflected on how I came to be in this very position. A street rat. An urchin. An orphan. I only remember my mother holding me, enveloping me in her warmth. In her love. I thought she would live, but the illness overcame her. That's when my journey began. Straight to my cousin, who accepted my presence. Was this it? All I ever needed, right in my grasp? No. The next day, I viewed his body hanging from the ceiling. What now? Well, the government was sent after me. I didn't want to be taken. But isn't that a good thing? The government taking care of your every need, taking them as if they were their own? No. They treat you the same as you'd always been considered. Street rat. Urchin. Orphan. I dream of being brought into the comfort of a loving household.

Apart from that near-impossible dream, the only other lasting happiness was from reading. My top-notch brain studies for hours and hours on end, flicking through every book it could find. First, the short stories. There weren't many of these scattered through my quaint home, but when I came across one, my heart leapt for joy. This whirlwind of a process became a craving. Now, the cookbooks. More interesting than I ever imagined. The pictures activated my senses as I schemed of the ways to create such splendid masterpieces. To my dismay, we never had any ingredients. When I'd had enough of the pleasantries, I moved on to the interesting subjects. All the finer works, essays, biographies and linguistic papers. The curiosity in me was constantly being sparked.

I watched a group of young men chattering jovially, drinking down what looked like beer. It was golden, with foam at the top.

"You know what else is golden?" I thought to myself, "Silence."

I'd never had a group of friends before, and they all seemed so content. I placed my hands at the window, which was dripping with condensation. I was a kid in a candy store. One of these men had chestnut brown hair and pure green eyes. Another had dark brown eyes, and dark hair placed neatly in a bun. The last man had hazel eyes and short, slightly curled hair, of which I couldn't tell the colour.

"And then I ripped the fabric to pieces, I was so bad!" He clinked his glass with his mates.

"Oh, Mulligan. C'est dommage! Tu es si maladroit!" He laughed with enthusiasm.

"Translation, please?" Mulligan asked, "We can't understand!"

"Hold up." The green-eyed individual pulled a small book out of his pocket, "Sorry, Laf, can you repeat?"

"C'est dommage. Tu es si maladroit." He repeated with less vigour.

"Hm..." he flicked through several pages, "Here! It means, "That's too bad! You are so clumsy!" Good one, Laf!"

"Merci, Laurens!" He glugged down his drink, before slamming his glass down on the table.

"What would happen if I joined them?" I smiled. "I'd finally have some friends! I'm old enough to drink now too, so I'd receive no punishment. And I'd understand the chap named Laf since I'm fluent in French!" I made a beeline for the door, only to be obstructed by a tall, grizzly man, smoking on a cigar.

"Watch where ya goin', street rat!" I watched as the trio turned their heads in my direction.

"Can I enter? I'm old enough. Also, smoking that cigar will give you a blood clot."

"Don't tell me what to do, filthy street rat!" He grabbed me by my shirt collar and dragged me into the nearest alleyway. I directed my gaze to Laurens, who looked back with alarm. They rushed over to us, as the rest of the pedestrians moved on with their activities, strolling and sauntering on by as if I didn't exist. My thoughts of a redefined identity dripped down the drain, as the well-known set of self-doubting thoughts reinforced the horrors of my childhood. They chanted, over and over and over again.

"Street rat."

"Urchin."

"Orphan."

"Street rat."

"Urchin."

"Orphan."

When I thought that was all my brain could throw at me, I received the worst of what was yet to come.

"Death."

"Darkness."

"Sin."

"Soulless."

"Heart."

"Hopeless."

"Death."

"Darkness."

"Sin."

"Soulless."

"Heart."

"Hopeless."

The man beat me to pieces me now. A punch to the face. A strike to the chest. My eyelids fluttered between opening and closing, as he dropped me onto the cold, hard ground.

"Taken."

"Taken."

"Taken."

"Took."