It was a crisp Autumn evening as Hannah meandered down alleyways in search of shelter for the night. Hands firmly by her sides, she kept alert, eyes scanning for a good target. Not just any place would do-that would be like hanging a sign around her neck saying, ’PLEASE MUG ME’. She needed somewhere dry, but out of the way to not garner the attention of colourful individuals, ready to try their luck with a lone kid.
They’d be right to pick her as a target, with only four years since she’d been kicked by the curb by her uncle, she’d managed to learn a few tips and tricks. She knew how to create a good cover story for begging on at the market, accompanied by a tear-jerking performance on parr with any royal minstrel. And she was careful with her gait, so the few pity coins she’d managed to beg for didn’t jingle. An extra precaution to being left alone.
No one on the streets with any semblance of self-preservation would bring a kid with them, and so she learned off the side-lines. Constantly following with her eyes and ears, she soaked in any minute detail and logged it for later. Learning who the easy targets are, and most importantly, if they’d take it easy on a young twelve-year-old girl. She learned that most folks wouldn’t get near you if you smelled, or if your hair was too messy. And that they wanted a good story, to let them pat themselves on the back for their deed well done.
With little legs trudging behind her and handmade shoes scraping against the cold cobblestone road, she made her find. A building with cobwebs littering every surface, close enough to the centre square for her to beg early morning tomorrow. It was practically screaming her name. To top it off, she was close enough to one of those fancy lantern posts, meaning that she’d enjoy some light before drifting off to sleep. Her aching legs practically jumped away from joy at the idea of finally getting a rest. She hastily made her way to her haven when the sound of a crunch behind her diverted her attention.
Most likely a crunch from the Autumn leaves, surely, they would just leave. She waited for more footsteps sure to follow yet, after focusing on the direction of the sound with all her might nothing continued. This could only mean that the person had walked back the way they’d come or had made a mistake and was deliberately concealing their movements. Her daily experiences taught her to fear for the worst and she felt blood rush to her head, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice. She didn’t want to give up her prime location if she didn’t have to though, so she’d need to get some more information.
Cautious not to reveal that she knew someone was behind her, she continued forward at the same pace. What was her move here? If she’d brought attention to herself earlier whoever was here might have been staking out the area, leading her to this secluded place. Whoever it was, they were getting closer. She’d have to get more information, fast. Managing to glimpse a reflection in a cracked window Hannah cursed. Just her luck-a group of organised, rugged men were headed her way. They looked different to the run of the mill thieves who’d want to take money from a child. They moved silently, having mastered the art of moving without being heard nor seen. Dagger in each hand, their eyes never wavered. Intent on something sinister. No, these men were mixed up in something deeper.
Before she had time to think on her next course of action, she felt something heavy hit the back of her skull. A white-hot pain seared through her skull, vision quickly blurring she felt herself falling just barely managing to catch herself on the cobblestone road. As her eyes fluttered closed, muffled voices reached her ears. The pain morphed into warmth as the dim light of the lantern at the main road flickered.
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Hannah jolted awake, her hands lay limp, bound tightly behind her back with coarse rope. A gag lay stuffed in her mouth, while a blindfold pressed into her eyes suffocating her in darkness. The rough texture of the rope cutting into her wrists served as a constant reminder of her utter helplessness as she swayed to the whims of the carriage’s erratic driving. The faint putrid smell mixed with her ever-racing heart, and the pools of sweat on her skin created an oppressive atmosphere that only intensified with every jolt. She made a small attempt at shimmying her way out of the bonds before she felt a knife being placed into the fabric of her back. A silent warning.
Her head reeled from the quick events. She scorned the thought that this might be the end. Whatever the ‘end’ that the wandering merchants spoke of was it was cruel for it to be like this. After having spent four long years on the meagre goodwill of others. Her livelihood reliant on those who offered cheap change or mouldy bread, never really caring. If they truly cared then she wouldn’t be here, she’d be in a warm house of her own.
The town’s musty walls and the leaky underpasses had become her home, her entire world. Gritty, decayed, and unwelcoming she had long since accepted that she’d have to fight to break free. Was this really where her life had led her? Fighting so hard, clawing her way through day after day with nothing but pure grit and stubbornness? And for what, to end up bound and helpless, at the mercy of others again? Just another forgotten face of a world that chewed people up and spat them out without a second thought.
Underneath the gag red swam across her vision, why had she even bothered to survive all those years? To fight for scraps of food, finding shelter in the cracks and corners of a city that had no place for her. To never stop watching, to be on guard at every moment of every day. The world had always been against her, spitting in her face at every step as if daring her to keep going just to see how much she could take before she’d break.
Her fingers clenched into fists behind her back, nails digging into her palms. If she could scream, she would. If she could cry out and curse the world, she’d do it until her throat bled. But all she had was the suffocating silence and the bitter taste of despair. Her only companion was the gnawing realization that no one was coming to save her, that no one ever had. She was alone, just as she had always been, abandoned to whatever fate had in store.
Anger simmered beneath her skin, a dull heat in her veins. She would find a way out. She had to. If not out of hope, then out of spite. If she was going to die here, it would be with her teeth bared, defiant to the very end. Because that was all she had left—her anger, her bitterness, and a heart hardened by a life that never cared.
Her determination was broken by a heavy weight pressed against her back, the cold metal of a knife pushing into her side. “Don’t get any wise ideas now,” warned a stern, gruff voice. Another voice, colder and more calculated, added, “You’re not in a position to negotiate.” Hannah’s rage simmered to a low boil, they appeared to want her enough to avoid using their brutality immediately, but the threat was clear. She found herself paralysed by a mix of fear and fury, her mouth dry and thoughts racing. A hasty “yes sir” escaped her lips as she sat thinking, feeling the sweat soak into her tattered rags with every jolt of the carriage.