Dahlia's POV
I never pinpointed the exact moment when I understood that human existence gets sorted into distinct categories from birth. There are those who rule from the top, others who occupy the comfortable middle, and people like me who scrape by at the bottom.
My memory drifts back to a scorching summer afternoon when the crush of bodies behind me forced me off the city bus. My worn backpack dug into my shoulders while perspiration streamed down my neck. I nearly stumbled forward, but someone ahead caught my arm before snapping at me irritably.
The harsh words didn't bother me. My mother had drilled into me the importance of showing respect to everyone, regardless of how they treated me.
The bus stop sat more than half a mile from my school, leaving me to trudge the remaining distance on foot.
