Street Child

“Get the hell off my property!” The girl’s eyes opened to an angry women, her hands clutching a cane. She swung it around in the air, her jaw set in an angry line.

Melody scrambled off the sidewalk, grabbing her bag. The city was bustling with people, the cars, taxis, and buses honking at each other. It was a warm day for New York, the heat burning through Melody’s clothes. She’d need to wash them soon or get something new to wear. They wouldn’t last long at this rate.

“Damn hookers,” the lady mumbled, as the girl walked away from the building. Melody held her tongue, not wanting to fight back at the woman. That was one thing she always said she would never do. It would never come down to selling herself for money. She wouldn’t let herself do it. Melody would rather die out on the street then have sex for money. She had morals and she would keep them, no matter what.

Occurrences like that happened often. You’d end up sleeping against a brick wall and the next morning you’d wake up to someone bitching and moaning that you need to get the hell out of there. Apparently the homeless scared away customers, or sent a bad message toward those who passed by. Was it Melody’s fault she was homeless? Maybe if those people helped out instead of just shooed her away, maybe she’d have a place to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, she’d be better off. At least, she’d like to think so.

Melody slung her bag over her shoulder, the tear in the side of it a bit larger than it was before. Sooner or later, she’d need a new bag. It was one of the last things she brought from home, something that wasn’t from the street. She had made it in her sewing class, the only class she really ever did good in.

Academics never came easy. Melody often found herself daydreaming and zoning out, not able to concentrate. It’s not that she didn’t try, she just couldn’t understand it. Nobody knew why, and some even questioned her mentality. Her mother on the other hand didn’t buy it.

She’d say, “Another goddamned ‘F’, Jessica? Can‘t you just pay attention for one fucking day?”

Jessica, a name nobody knew her by anymore. Her full name was, or at least used to be at this point, Jessica Melody Dalton. It was a name she never lived up to be, and a name that she forever hated.

The voice of her mother rang in her ears. She had never been close to her, the only reason for ever communicating was living under the same roof. Now that Melody left, she had no desire to talk to her mother ever again. It’s not like her mother ever tried to contact her afterwards, anyway. Just because they shared the same blood didn’t mean they loved each other.

She had only loved one person, her sweet little brother, Trevor. The name alone brought a smile to her face. He was your average four year old, with a huge imagination and a heart full of gold. He was a fighter, the only reason why he lasted so long in this cold, hard world. Trevor had gotten ill at the age of two and doctors said he only had months to live. But the little boy defied the odds and fought for another two years before passing on. He was the only reason Melody stayed at home. Once he was gone, so was she.

Melody ran into an alley way, slumping against the wall. Everyday was an adventure because everyday was new. Everyday was another fight for survival. And like her brother, she’d keep fighting till the end.