Homeless: a person without a home, and therefore typically living on the streets.

Whether it was by choice or not, the dictionary had deemed it an irrelevant detail. Most likely because it is implied that it would be without a choice. After all, who would decide by their own free will to leave the comfort of a home, or at least a house, to live on the cold, merciless

Technically, I did have a choice. And I chose the streets. I chose to have the sky as my roof and the cold pavement as my bed. A choice I still did not regret, and I doubt I ever would.

But was it truly a choice if the house I had left had very little to offer compared to the streets I was wandering? Doubtful.

Though the previous question was fundamentally flawed. To say that house had very little to offer would be an understatement, since it didn't really offer anything. All it did was take. Mercilessly. Savagely. Relentlessly.

Until I had a reason and the courage to leave.

Leave, never looking back to that dark place where I had lost more pieces of myself than I knew existed.

The darkness currently surrounding me was better than the one I'd left behind. The playground tunnel sheltering us from the heavy downpour was dark, but I'd gladly take this darkness. My bones groaned when I sat up, and I waited until a wave of dizziness subsided before moving my head. Must be the hunger.

"Mark, are you still cold?"

My little brother cracked open his eyelids. He shook his head before snuggling into the blanket again. I had snatched it from a bench one cold morning. The bench was previously occupied by an older, homeless man. I took advantage of the time he had gone to empty his bladder and took his blanket.

It's the streets, what was he expecting? He should've kept a more watchful eye on his belongings.

Stealing, surviving, what was the difference?

I dozed off again, never really falling asleep. Someone had to keep watch for danger. Something the streets never lack. From wandering junkies and drug dealers to perverts. All sorts of perverts. Even police officers. Especially police officers. I'd rather have to face a criminal than a police officer. The former I could always find a way to escape or cut with my little handy knife, then disappear, the latter would be the more difficult to escape, because once you're in their radar, it'd be harder to live on the streets in peace- relatively in peace.

The pitter-patter of rain slowed down its pace until it faded into the morning noise of the city- revving engines, car horns and distant chatter. I jerked. The noise snapped me out of my sleep-like state.

Another day in paradise.

Luckily for us, with the rain pouring down unexpectedly these past few days, no one really brought their kids to the park. So we had this place for ourselves as long as the heavily loaded clouds hovered over the city.

"Hungry", Mark muttered. Blinking his blue eyes open, he sat up. His fingers were already moving under the blanket. Stimming.

"Okay, look what I got for you here," I said, searching in my worn-out backpack for the wrapped biscuits a kindhearted lady had given me the day before.

I took half a and gave mark the remaining two. Eagerly, he stuffed his mouth with one and munched on it like he had been starving for ages. My heart ached for him. Why couldn't I provide a better life for him?

To do that, I needed money. There are only two ways to have money, either make it or take it.

Taking money would entail either receiving charity or taking matters in my own hands -quite literally. I took whatever cash a charitable soul would offer me, but I never stole from anyone unless it was a matter of survival for my brother -case in point: the blanket I had taken from the homeless man. I wasn't going to let my brother freeze to death.

And that left us with making money. That would mean working. I had no qualm about earning an honest living, but to work in this country you need identification papers, a fact I didn't know before embarking on this delightful journey. I had no papers, since my dear mother hadn't bothered to register neither me nor my brother's birth. They wouldn't have allowed her anyway.

No birth certificate equals no identification paper, no identification paper equals no work, no work equals no money, no home, no food, no life.

Besides, even if I could somehow make an identity for myself, I wouldn't. At least not yet. Not when I was still so close to them. They would find us the moment I left even the smallest trace anywhere. The moment I let my guard down, just for a fraction, they would come chasing, hot on our heels like hell hounds to drag us back to the underworld.

Fingers flicking brought my attention back to Mark. He had finished his meager breakfast. His eyes flickered to one of the tunnel's entrances I had covered with cardboard.

"Out. We go out. Out," Mark said, his fingers flicking more quickly.

"Okay, Okay." I sniffled, hurriedly gathering my backpack, and crawled as he kept muttering 'out' over and over again. I carefully peeked out to make sure the park was empty before exiting the tunnel.

I shivered, even though the air was slightly warmer compared to the last few days. The sun peeked through the silver clouds, gracing the earth with its heat before hiding again.

I knelt, facing the tunnel. The cold ground stung my knees through the thin ripped material of my jeans. I offered my hand to Mark.

He didn't take it, but I brushed off his rejection. I was used to it. I never took it to heart. It was only because of his condition. He loved me as much as I loved him, of that I was certain. So when he did things like that it never really bothered me.

I brushed off his pants and folded the blanket before shouldering my backpack. Looking around the muddy playground, Mark stood still for a few seconds before rushing to one of the swings.

"Daphie! push! push!" he yelled, an excited grin lighting up his face as he tried to propel himself back and forth. Smiling, I jogged up to him and rested my backpack and the blanket against one of the side beams supporting the swings, then I positionned myself behind him.

"Okay. Hold tight, alright?"

He nodded quickly. I pushed, gently at first, until he flew higher and higher, his laughter like water in the desert for my parched soul.

What I wouldn't give to see him smiling like that every single day.

After a while, my stomach growled out loud. Luckily, Mark wanted to stop too. I helped him down, the way his arm felt so frail and thin in my hand making my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. He had always been that way, even before we started living on the streets. With the meager meals they had been providing for us there, it wasn't a surprise that he looked like much younger than his nine years of age.

"That was fun," he said, looking down with a smile. "We'll do that again? Right?"

"Right." I crouched down. His eyes met mine for a precious second. "We'll do whatever you want, sweetie."

"Okay." He nodded and looked away. "Okay."

I picked up our stuff and we left the park. As I looked around, I noticed a couple of guys leaning on one of the trees surrounding the park. They had hoods on and wore slightly haggard jeans. My heart rate picked up when I noticed their attention was on us. On me.

Blood drained from my face; I had left my hood down, revealing my light brown hair. I quickly pulled my hood up and tucked my hair in, cursing myself for the careless mistake. My hand slipped into my pocket. I clutched my knife and whipped it open inside.

A side glance to the men. One of them pointed to the playground tunnel we'd been using as a hiding spot for the past few days.

"Looks like we're relocating," I muttered to myself, thanking God Mark didn't react when I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and rushed him forward.

At least the weather seemed like it would get better today.

Mark and I walked out of the deserted park to the busy streets of the city. Men and women rushed around us in their neat, warm clothes, trying to catch a cab or waiting for the bus on the sidewalk. Soon, the trees of the park were replaced with tall buildings, shops and cafés that had my stomach growling louder.

"You need a haircut soon," I told Mark, twirling a long curl of hair at the nape of his neck. I was trying to distract him and myself from the view of the mouthwatering pastry and warm drinks. He looked up at me, eying the hair I'd stuffed inside my hood.

"Are you going to cut your hair too? Again?"

"What do you think?" I asked. "Should I cut it or not?"

He thought for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, don't cut it. It's beautiful."

I chuckled, pressing my lips lightly to his hair. "Thank you, sweetie."

I wasn't so sure keeping it this long was a great idea. Revealing myself as girl out on the streets was just asking for trouble. I had cut my hair quite short the moment we left that place a few months ago, but it already grew past my shoulders.

Mark suddenly came to a stop in front of a shop, taking in the display window with big, sparkling eyes.

A chess board.

A fancy one at that. It was the only piece displayed on the window shop, and I could see why. It must cost a fortune. The checkered board reflected the light, most likely made of polished marble. The chess pieces were carved to perfection from glass or crystal, I couldn't tell, placed each in its spot on sixty four black and white squares.

"Mark," I blurted out before he could get attached to the board. "Do you want chocolate?"

He looked up at me with wide eyes, replying instantly. "Mhm. Chocolate. I want chocolate."

"How about we get you some then, okay? Let's go." I basically dragged him from the chess shop. He looked back one last time before nodding, muttering something under his breath.

Mark and I headed to find a grocery store, we were walking close to a tall building, the headquarter of some big shot company I often read about in the free newspaper. People were rushing in and out of the building, in prim suits and polished shoes. I stared at the glimmering leather boots of a woman. The price of those things would probably buy us a ticket out of here.

I sighed. Thinking about how much more money I needed knotted my guts. I didn't have much, and I needed it to leave the state and start a new life for Mark and I somewhere far away from here.

We had managed to get this far, traveling from city to city. We stuck to big cities since the homeless population is greater and it was easier to go unnoticed.

"Whoa! watch out!"

I jumped. My surroundings returned to me once again as I snapped out of my thoughts.

A firm grip on my arms. Before I knew it both Mark and I were suddenly dragged, stumbling back out of the way of a speeding motorcycle on the sidewalk.

My wide eyes followed the crazy rider. He almost crashed into a tree. It swerved in the last second and fell to the ground. People stared at the driver, who stumbled up to his feet, swaying and shouting nonsense. A drunk driver. Asshole.

"Are you okay?"

As the male voice registered, the feeling of someone's else's touch also did. I snatched my arm out of the man's hand and whipped around. Mark, having already freed himself of the stranger's grip, clutched the side of my hoodie and hid himself behind me. I needed to get myself together.

My eyes traveled up to meet dark brown ones, almost black, frowning down at me. The man blinked, his frown cleared. My hood had fallen down and wild tendrils of hair framed my pale face.

The man in front of me was built like a statue, tall and broad-shouldered with hard lines and compelling visuals. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he wasn't the most handsome man I had ever seen- and I had seen many- but his presence seemed to suck you in.

"Mr. Maxwell, sir. The car is ready."

I looked to the side where another suited man with salt and pepper hair was looking between us, his brows tugged down. His eyes settled on me, doing a once over before his expression morphed to what looked a lot like distaste.

Before our savior could reply, I jerked my hood back in place and nodded to him. "Thank you."

Without waiting for his response, I turned, wrapped my arm around Mark's shoulders and hurried away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Snap out of it!

I didn't even want to think what would've happened if the man hadn't dragged us out of the way. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice the motorcycle speeding our way.

I looked down at Mark and heaved a relieved sigh. If something happened to him...

I shook away the thought, just as a coughing fit had me bending down for a few seconds. My head throbbed, my eyes and nose watering.

Great. A cold was just the thing I needed. I had to be careful not to pass it on to Mark. We had to avoid hospitals at all costs. Any place where a record of us could be found was a no-go.

Mark and I found a grocery store shortly after. The chocolate bar I got him painted a small smile on his face.

The clerk, a man in his early forties, cast us suspicious glances as he rang the chocolate bar. His eyes scanned our clothes. I had tried to keep them as clean as possible, but living on the streets for an extended period left its mark.

"Are you sure that's all you have?" the man said in a scratchy voice, probably from smoking too much if his yellow teeth and the cigarette stench rolling off him was anything to go by.

"Yes," I replied curtly looking him straight in the eyes. He didn't give me the chocolate, just kept staring with a suspicious frown. "You're welcome to search if you want to," I added with a bored expression, my gaze never flinching away from his.

He thought for a second before dropping the chocolate bar on the counter and waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "Just go."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Human beings were pathetically predictable at times. Just because someone was homeless didn't make them a thief. And although statistics would probably argue that point, that didn't make it any less wrong.

Most people never question the reasons that pushed someone to live on the streets, they just blame them. It's easier that way.

Our ability to judge someone based on their outer appearance is truly astounding. No matter how much people tried to pride themselves on being open-minded and non-judgmental, they still do it, if even subconsciously.

I was still waiting for the day someone would surprise me and not judge by looks. Because after all, not all monsters have sharp teeth and claws.

I would know.

I had seen honorable-looking men without a shred of honor. They came in elegant clothes and expensive hairstyles only to do sickeningly horrible things with a grin on their faces.

Oh, yes... I would know.

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Chapter 1!! I hope you enjoyed it!

This story is completed, so the chapters will be posted very quickly. I hope you give it a shot. If you liked A Silent Heart, then I think you'll like Homeless as well.

Another update in a couple of hours. 

P.S: don't forget to vote and comment. I appreciate it. 

Much love <3 <3 <3

M.B.