In a dark back alley, a small girl in a worn-out, sleeveless linen frock—stained with blood and grime—slowly walked barefoot along the wall, using it for support. She looked too tired and hungry to care about the filth coating the bricks, the puddles of piss and vomit on the ground, or the trash scattered everywhere. The distant noise of a busy crowd and the bright streetlights at the end of the alley were the only things pushing her forward.
She had no idea where she was or how she had ended up here. All she remembered was waking up in a pile of garbage with no memory of who she was, a menacing pain throughout her body, a throat dry as dust, and a stomach twisting with hunger.
