Intentions are visible, but the inner are hidden, and the lump in my chest is heavy while curiosity is clearly written on my face. I left some distance between myself and them, pulled the hood over my head, and began to follow that priest and the teenager seriously—step by step, like a cat.
The boy's steps behind the priest were confident, and people's eyes followed them, making it difficult to pretend I wasn't following them, especially with my annoying creatures.
Once we reached one of the main streets, sweat poured through my layered, wide clothes from tension and the feeling that I could be discovered at any moment.
But when we reached a side street, an old man sitting at a corner caught my attention, skillfully weaving sandals from straw. On the ground was a mat displaying his products and straw creations. I remembered him immediately and ran to greet him, forgetting about the other matter.
When I reached him, I said cheerfully:
"Hello, uncle, how are you today?"
The old man raised his head slightly, then smiled teasingly and said:
"Call me grandfather, little one. I'm too old to be called 'uncle.' I'm well."
He noticed something in my eyes and, with a mixture of reproach and pity, said:
"So you've eaten more of them, then. Didn't I tell you it would be your end if you continued consuming sins?"
Suddenly, one of the creatures leapt from his pocket toward me, screaming and threatening. My own creatures jumped at it, fighting as if each were a predator competing Who will kill her prey first.
Yes, this old man was one of the "sin eaters," the person who had helped me and explained them to me the first time. His name is Mark, and when he was a child, he ate one of the sin dishes but then stopped, deciding to live his life simply, ignoring the sin within him.
I responded to Mark teasingly, watching my creatures fight:
"That's exactly what I want. I dare not end my life or starve to death—it make the task easier for me."
Mark looked down with sorrow and returned to his work. I realized my words had saddened him, but why you grieve for a homeless child I'd met by chance?.
I remembered another fruit I had in my pocket, so I took it out and offered it to Mark, grateful:
"Here, consider this a gift for helping me last time."
He smiled faintly, pushing my hand back toward me appreciatively, saying happily:
"No need to thank me, and I don't even like this fruit; it tastes sour."
I couldn't help but smile at his kindness—he doesn't even know its taste and he knows I have nothing else.
He then asked curiously:
"By the way, Theo, isn't this area far from your home? What are you doing here?"
I thought for a moment, then felt a jolt of shock. Damn! I had forgotten about the priest and the teenager. I said as I hurried to leave
"I forgot something, uncle. See you later."
Then I stepped back a little and placed the fruit on his lap and said, "It tastes good, by the way, eat it."
Alley after alley, street after street—nothing. Damn, I lost them. I leaned against a wall, sitting in despair. I hadn't found them and had Digested the food I ate . and I now feel hungry ،I began thinking about what I should do now.
Suddenly, the church bell rang, calling people to prayer. Why hadn't I thought of this before, for heaven's sake?
Of course, they would go to the church. I ran after the sound of the bells until I finally reached a circular plaza decorated with many flowers, ancient walls, stained glass windows, large golden bells, ornate iron fences.
So this is what noble-class churches look like! The moment I moved to enter, I noticed those hateful glances, as if they would devour me at any moment. I stepped back and decided to stay outside—the atmosphere wasn't for me, and those looks were unbearable. Also, I feared that my filth might defile this refined house of worship. I stood a little away from the gate and began to wait. Maybe the teenager would come out any moment—an hour, two—but to no avail. Then I realized something: there must have been a funeral first, yet those entering and leaving didn't show grief or wear black clothes. I had gone to the wrong church!
I decided to go back; it was no longer useful. It was almost evening now, and darkness would fall soon. My place was about half an hour away, so I had to start heading back. I walked along, scanning for any trash Which can I find dinner in tonight . After about fifteen minutes, I found a large dumpster in an alley of a middle-class street. I ran quickly to check it before anyone could chase me off.
I searched inside: dirty clothes, some trash bags, empty bottles of alcohol, broken plates. There, I found a long piece of bread, slightly wet at one end. I hid it in my clothes and started leaving—but then I heard angry shouting from behind. For a moment, I thought it was for me. I looked back in fear and saw the boy behind me, trembling, holding a baby tightly. His clothes were old and tattered.
He stood nervously, eyes wide, as a large, dark-skinned man covered in thick hair shouted angrily:
"How many times have I told you not to do such things?"
Then he took the child from the boy's arms and put him aside on the ground.And he beat the boy violently. I swear his bones seemed crushed. The baby's screams pierced the air, yet the man continued. I was furious and confused—what made him think he had the right to beat a child like this?
But I, too, was a child, powerless. I looked at the people around, who watched the unequal struggle with pity, yet none intervened. I began to tremble, the fear of the child dying choking me. At that moment, I stepped forward and shouted loudly:
"Leave him! Leave him, you filthy pig!"
Suddenly, the man released the child and looked at me with a demonic glare, he said:
"Do you wish to die, you cursed one?"
I felt fire coursing through my veins. No, my whole body seemed to melt in an instant. I didn't understand what happened, but suddenly, demons around me began making sounds I had never heard before—threatening growls like lions defending their territory.
They grew in size, bared their teeth, and attacked the man savagely. He screamed in pain and fear, unable even to see who was attacking him.
I didn't understand, and I didn't care. I ran to the child and helped him up. I said,
"Let's run, quickly!"
But he pointed to the baby, still crying. I went to him and lifted him. The boy struggled to keep up behind me through alley after alley, walls closing around us. After about an hour, we finally reached my place, having taken twisted paths because someone had called the police. I exhaled in relief and sat on my mat.
The boy and the baby followed,and sitting down. The boy gave the baby a piece of food to distract him, while we stared at each other.
His body was bruised, but his face remained mostly unharmed because he had curled up when beaten. I looked at him with pity. After a few quiet moments, I decided to speak and clarify the situation:
"Stay here tonight and leave in the morning. As you see, I have nothing."
Then I brought out the damp piece of bread and continued:
"This is tonight's dinner."
I divided it into three pieces: one for the boy, one for the baby, and I ate the damp piece myself. While we ate, I asked:
"What did you do to make that man hit you?"
The boy pointed to the baby, then to himself. I didn't understand.
"Why don't you speak?" I asked.
He gestured toward his mouth and moved it in a way I understood—he couldn't speak. Silence fell again. I tried asking:
"my nam is theo… what's your name?"
He looked at me with puzzled eyes and a slight reassuring smile. Then he moved a bit of the mat and began drawing on the ground. I realized he had written his name. I said clumsily:
"Sorry, I can't read it."
We looked at each other in confusion. The silence returned, so I decided to let it continue until morning. I lay my head down and fell into a deep, long sleep—the kind I hadn't tasted in a while.
Suddenly, I woke up in panic, hearing the sounds of my creatures flooding the tent. Ah, damn, I had forgotten about them! I laid my head down, staring at the sleeping boy and baby, who were holding each other tightly, as if all they had was each other, while my night had been filled with broken sleep. Morning came, and as usual, I awoke terrified by the sudden sounds of my creatures rising sharply.
But this time I didn't get up alone. I saw the boy shaking me gently, as if calming me down. The baby was also crying. The boy picked him up and soothed him, looking at me with concern. I drank a little water from my bottle, then returned it to its place. The baby kept crying, so I asked the boy:
"What's wrong him?"
He pointed to the baby's stomach, and I understood he was hungry. I sighed and said:
"Sorry, I have no food right now."
He shook his head in disagreement. The baby sat down, and the boy began drawing again on the ground. I said:
"I told you, I can't read."
This time, he grabbed my hand and showed me what he had drawn—it seemed like circles within circles. Where had I seen that before? While I was thinking, I heard women screaming outside. I understood immediately and shouted, as if competing:
"Ah! He needs to breast !"
The boy covered his face with his hands in shyness, then nodded. It seemed the baby needed his mother's milk. I asked:
"Where's his mother?"
He drew something on the ground again—a house. I looked up at him and asked:
"And where is this place?"
He drew again, but this time he drew me and the large man behind us—the cursed place where we had met. I looked up in refusal:
"Impossible. I won't go back there, not even over my dead body."
He looked at me with his green eyes sadly, lifted the baby gently, bowed slightly several times, as if thanking me, then left. I swallowed hard, thinking that if he went, the man might hit him again. I glanced around at those ugly creatures fighting, wondering if I should rely on them again today. I made my decision and followed him. He had already reached halfway down the alley, but a woman stood in his way, holding his face and saying, scrutinizing:
"What beautiful white skin and smooth black hair. You must be nine or ten years old. Imagine how handsome you'll be in six or seven years. How about I take you to a beautiful place?"
I ran toward the woman, slapped her hand, glared at her with hatred, and said disdainfully:
"Don't even think about it, Maya. No one wants to be tainted like you."
She pursed her lips in annoyance began leaving, and said sarcastically:
"Look who's talking."
I exhaled in relief, looked at the boy, and said:
"I'll come with you."
he smiled widely,and held my hand, and we
walked together.