"I'm sorry," my father whispered as he gently nudged me out the door. I stumbled as the door slammed shut behind me. Back then, I thought it was just a simple punishment. Most of the parents in the slum sectors would usually lock their children outside when they misbehaved. But the whole time I was thinking, what have I done wrong? I have never snitched grains of rice or a piece of bread from the small cabinet in the kitchen, unlike my four older brothers.

I remember that the night was cold. So cold that my cheeks were frozen and red within an hour or two. I huddled into a tight ball a few feet away from my house, wearing my brothers' tattered hand me down clothes. And I waited. I waited for them to open the door. I waited for them to let me in. They never did. I didn't want to run away, not like most of the kids in the slums. Because I have nowhere to go. Because the Republic doesn't care about some nine year old stray girl.

I spent half the night, watching the door, waiting for it to open. It was midnight when my mother pulled back the curtains to blow out the lonely candle resting by the windowsill. The small flame danced before crumpling under her strong persistent breath of air.

And then she saw me, still waiting there. But she didn't give me a soft smile, or a sympathetic look. Her nose wrinkled with disgust and she pulled the curtains back over the window. I saw her shadow behind the curtains when the steady moonlight shone upon the building. I stared and stared, watching the figure of my mother standing there. After ten long minutes, she turned back and the shadow disappeared. Why wouldn't she let me in? Haven't I suffered enough?

I don't remember falling asleep. I only remember waking up to the warm sunlight. My stomach growled as I smelled the chunky oatmeal we always ate for breakfast. Right now, almost anything was appeasing.

The sound of the dirty silverware clinking against the bowls teased me. When? I thought hopelessly. When will they let me in? I stretched my aching muscles, sore from sleeping on the concrete floor. My fingers drummed against my left thigh as I waited.

By the late afternoon, I was beyond hungry. I was ravenous. And that's when I started to bang my fist against the door, over and over again. Yelling, crying, screaming. Trying to do anything that would make my parents open the door again. But they never did.

It began to rain, not the warm refreshing summer rain, but those ice cold drops that pelt your skin until it's frozen and you become numb. My hot tears mingled with the freezing raindrops.

"I'm sorry!" I scream. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I repeated those two words over and over. "I don't know what I did but I'm sorry! Please let me in!" I begged.

"Don't you love me anymore?" I cried, my fists resting at the door. No answer. But I swear I could've heard my dad faintly choking on a sob.

"Go away you brat!" My mother screamed at me through the second floor window. "Get the hell away from my house! No one wants you!"

I couldn't really describe what I was feeling. Hurt. Betrayal. Hate. Anger. Hopelessness. It was useless. I lowered my red, bloody and bruised hand from the wooden door before taking small steps away from the house. I refused to die like this.

I wandered around the Nima sector, digging into trash bins in search of food. Most of them were clean from others who salvaged the scraps. That's when I began following two other beggars in order to get food. They were a mother and a son. Carlos and Minerva. I didn't know much about them, but they handed me an occasional scrap while rummaging through trash. Just enough to pull through each long day I spent with them.

It was about a week later when I met him. A boy, about twelve, who watched me intently as I looked through the trash with Carlos and Minerva. "Hey!" he called out in a cheerful voice. Carlos and his mother immediately froze, before spinning on their heels and running down the alley.

I was too scared to move, too scared to run. "Hey, mind if I join you?" he had asked, walking closer to me. Oh god, he's probably going to kill me or turn me in or shoot me or-

Shut up Tess! I scolded myself. Run! As the boy came closer, I scrambled to my feet and ran, only to trip and fall to the floor. Pain bloomed on both knees. Shoot. The boy was now rushing towards me. "Hey, are you all right?"

I jerked away from him. "Please, please," I whimpered. Please don't hurt me. I just want to live.

The boy frowned and asked, "Please what?" He sounded annoyed and impatient. But he knelt down next to me, his hand reaching out. "Stop crying. I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. I was prepared to run, but when he didn't move, I gawked at him.

"You live close by?" he asked in a softer voice. I nod, and then contradicted myself. I don't have a home- not anymore. No," I whispered.

"Can I help you get home?" he asked obliviously.

My mouth felt dry. "I don't have a home."

"You don't? Where are your parents?" I shook my head silently. I wasn't about to tell this strange boy everything, no matter how nice he's been to me for the past few minutes.

The boy paused and offered me his hand. "Come on," he said. "You don't want to have two infected knees. I'll help you clean them up and then you can be on your way again. You can have some of my food too. Pretty good deal, right?"

I looked into his sincere blue eyes. He wouldn't hurt me, I thought to myself. But all this was too good to be true. "Okay," I said softly and put my scraped red hand in his warm, callous one.

He led me to an abandoned alley that had a torn sofa and a couple of dirty, broken chairs. After treating my knees, he used a shirt and lay down on the floor. "You can have the couch," he told me. Hesitantly, I sat down, watching the boy's shoulders rise and fall as he breathed softly.

After a while, he mumbled, "If you want to leave in the morning, just go. You don't have to wake me up or say good-bye or anything." But I didn't want to leave him. I curled up on the sofa, watching the boy fall asleep.

He seemed surprised to find me there when he woke up in the morning. He rose and tossed the shirt he had been using as a pillow over his shoulder. Without a second glance, he turned and walked away. I scampered to my feet, following his retreating figure.

I stood behind him silently as he rummaged through the trash. When he heard my light footsteps, he jumped and scowled at me, dropping whatever had been in his hands earlier. "What are you still doing here?" he growled, the kindness in his voice was nowhere to be found.

I blinked back at him. The boy sighed and turned back to pick up scraps of food and cloths. He tied them in a tight bundle and walked-no, ran- down the alley, leaving in his wake. Follow him, I told myself.

The third time he saw me following him, he was beyond annoyed. "Just leave me alone!" he bellowed. You're the only person left. The only person I trust. But I didn't say those words to him. I let my mouth close and let my wet tears drip down my cheeks. The boy's expression softened when he saw my tears, but he bit the inside of his cheek and left me, again.

He soon gave in once he saw that I would never leave him. So he made a small fire in the back alley and let me sit next to him.

I watched the flames flicker and grow; consuming everything the boy threw in. And I saw hope. Maybe. Maybe I could really survive. Maybe this stranger could become a friend. And so I broke the ice.

"My name is Tess," I whispered to him. The boy looked at me, a smile flickering on his face for a heartbeat. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I bit on my tongue. I'll tell him soon. Maybe when the bond between us gets stronger. Maybe.

Tell me what you think! Please review!

Also who should I ship with her? I was going to do TessxPascao but Marie Lu stated that he was gay...

So should I still ship them or ship her with Eden, an OC, or no one at all?