Page 65 of Darkest Deception

Age ten

Streets of London, people of London.

These places are supposed to hold people of high class. Of power. Admiration.

And by far, I have only seen the cruelty, the sheer hatred they have for people who have no money in their pocket.

Living by stealing the few scraps of food left behind has taught me that even the highest of royalty will sneer at one lower than them. Even ones you love, ones who smile in the spotlight and say they are helping those in need, when in fact, they are disgusted by the sight of homeless people.

With a ten-pound note in my hand, crumbled but still brand new, the smile on my face is wide. Nala will be so happy to see that someone gave me so much.

There is a bounce in my step.

Maybe she won’t spend on the white powder she gets and will get us food.

Maybe I should get food myself?

But what if she gets angry that I didn’t share?

I shake my head and continue towards the small room we have. An abandoned building sits tall and cold, a window broken where it faces a small alleyway. We’ve made it our small home.

I can see my own breath, shivering despite my clothes. December is always the coldest month in London every year. The frilly scarf around my neck and the thin dirty sweater I have on don’t help with the freezing temperatures.

As soon as I crawl through the window and jump into the room, I spot Nala pacing. Nala is my older sister, at seventeen years old. Some could say she is a little rude, but I know it’s our situation that made her like that. One day, we were living in a warm house with Mum; the next, we were getting evicted. Mum didn’t pay for the rent that month and was nowhere to be found.

That was three years ago.

Three years of being close to homeless until Nala started bringing in a few items worth keeping. Like a new sweater. Leftover food from her friend. New shoes, which she gave me.

But that scares me.

Mom used to do that and then she left all at once.

She used to tell us about her friend who gave her everything and how nice he was. He had money, and one day she’d take us with her to a good house. She promised, and she still left us.

We were both so confused and yet we waited for her for a year until Nala told me that she’s gone. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was true, wasn’t it? She wasn’t coming back.

She left us for a better life with that friend.

She left her kids behind and chased a life of luxury on her own.

And now I’m scared Nala may do the same.

Her head snaps up as soon as my shoes hit the ground.

“Helia, did you get any money?” Her eyes keep looking around, as if scared, but I know she isn’t.

She gets like that when she takes that white powder.

My hand tightens around the crumbled note. It could be for food today, even tomorrow, and maybe some left for the day after.

If I gave it to Nala, she will take it for herself, and I will have to go to sleep hungry.

She will promise to bring food from her friend and then she won’t.

My stomach twists, the lie on the tip of my tongue, but my sister needs it. She will stop being like this once I give her.

She’s my only family.

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