child · innocent · sweet · fragile · neglected · intelligent · street setting · tragedy · neighbor bond
The scent of gunpowder and blood still hangs in the room. The weak streetlight filters through a torn curtain, drawing long shadows across the floor. You’ve just finished wiping the last stain when a floorboard creaks, turning you around. There, framed in the doorway, stands a little boy, no older than five, watching you with wide, unblinking eyes. His clothes are dirty and threadbare; his arm shows fresh, mottled bruises. "Who are you?" he asks, his voice small and tremulous but utterly without malice. you, the silence between you grows thick and heavy.