Chapter 2 - Vega POV

Filth

Disgusting filth encompasses me like it would someone in the Medieval Ages.

Trash is allegedly thrown from windows high above and onto the, already drenched, dingy street. People yell as rotten food is poured on their heads.

Gah! They scream shrilly. They continue bitterly trudging through horrid items along with their stench. They pass people similar to them in the streets - they could be beggars or be wealthy, but no matter what, they are disdainful. Slobs, you could call them, pigs even, but all I require you to understand is that they were filthy.

Thirst.

Raging thirst plagues me like the Kraken embarking on a ship intact with innocent lives. The people run and scream as the beast hits the once beautiful vessel once, twice and a third time - finally striking a ragged hole where unsatisfying saltwater pours into. An abandoned baby wails for his distraught mother as water rapidly swells the cheerless room, submerging him. His mother cries tears of regret as she sees his lifeless body from her raft and floats out into the depths of the ocean. She dives in along with the screams of her husband in attempts to save her only child, but she isn't quick enough to reach the surface against herself and the body. She now rests in misery at the bottom of the sea with her only child. An almost complete family. The husband lives a few hundred yards away, for his grief was so tremendous that, alas, the other horrible people threw him overboard to be with them.

Hunger.

Horrendous hunger feasts on me like I should do it. Though impossible it resides to be, nothing can hinder me from hoping. The beast growls in my ear. The rabid animal created by fear, famish, and fatigue. I barely have enough to feed myself - nonetheless this … girl.

"The burden of Satan, more like," I bitterly mutter seemingly no one to.

"Hm?" she asks, not bothering to look in my direction.

"Sorry I didn't mean to say that out loud," I sigh, "Stay here, I'm going to try to find food that isn't rat poison," I walk out the door as I hear her yell

"Rat poison? WHAT DO YOU MEAN RAT POISO-" I slam the door shut before she can finish her rant; my headache is already bad as it is. I trudge up the stairs to the dark house. Heading towards the kitchen, I take mental stock of the fridge and cabinets to see if I can make something for the girl.

"I'm pretty sure I have bread - I can make some sort of sandwich, I guess," I mumble to myself, an old habit that I could never break. I open the bare pantry and find a soon-to-mold loaf of bread. I have no meat or dairy so I bust out a jar of peanut butter. "I hope this is enough…"

It's my fault that she's even here in the first place. If it wasn't for me she wouldn't be in danger...