The wind howled through the empty streets, rain pounding against the cracked pavement like nails on a coffin. I pulled my hoodie tighter, though it was already drenched. The cold slipped beneath the fabric, sharp and cruel, settling deep into my bones.
Nights like this were the worst. The city felt hostile—like it was trying to spit me out, like I didn't belong anywhere. No shelter. No warmth. Just endless roads, flickering streetlights, and that quiet, steady ache in my chest that never truly left.
I'd given up on hope a long time ago. My parents died before I was old enough to understand what death meant. I didn't cry. I didn't know I was supposed to.
By the time I did, it was too late. I'd already been passed around from one foster home to the next like a box no one wanted to keep. The families always started out kind enough. But kindness fades. Eventually, they stopped pretending. Eventually, I stopped hoping.
It was easier not to expect anything at all.
The storm worsened. I ducked into an alley, hoping for even a sliver of cover. Water dripped from a broken gutter, hitting the ground in a slow, steady rhythm. Above me, a twisted old oak tree shook violently in the wind, its branches creaking like bones ready to snap.
I should've moved. I should've run.
But I didn't.
A sharp crack tore through the night.
And then—nothing.
---
Everything was warm.
Not like a blanket or a space heater. Deeper than that. It wrapped around me like a memory I never had—safe, soft, and steady. For the first time, I felt like I didn't have to run. Like I didn't have to be afraid.
My body felt heavy—not tired, just… unfamiliar. I tried to move, but my limbs didn't respond the way I expected. My fingers were small. Weak. A fragile cry slipped from my lips, high-pitched and trembling.
That's when it hit me.
'I'm a baby.'
Panic surged through me. Everything was too big, my body far too small. But before I could be swallowed by it, I heard a voice. A woman's voice—calm, gentle—speaking in a language I didn't recognize.
And yet… I understood.
She held me close, her heartbeat strong and steady against my cheek. I couldn't see her face, not clearly, but I didn't need to. I felt everything in the way she held me—warmth, safety, love.
'Is this... my mother?'
In my old life, I never knew comfort like this. I remembered being alone more than anything else. But now, in this moment, I wasn't.
I wasn't lost.
I wasn't forgotten.
With all the strength I could muster, I reached up and gripped the soft fabric of her sleeve. It was all I could do. But it was enough.
'I don't know where I am. I don't know who I'll become. But this time… I won't be alone.'
'I won't be thrown away.'
'I'll find the home I never had.'