Brianna - part 1

Standing on the corner street, huddled against the brick wall of the Dublin library, Brianna shivers from the cold. October in Ireland is not the warmest season and the old army jacket and worn denim she is wearing aren't doing anything to help her keep her body warmth. Not that she would have much to begin with. At 15, she was so skinny she looked like she was 12. A tall 12 year old. Until you looked in her eyes. Then she appeared to be 45.

It had been a year since she had taken to the street, leaving behind the abuse, the shame, the despair of realizing you were not gonna get any help from the one person who should have given everything to protect you. Her mother. Brianna idly wondered if she had finally had enough and clobbered that old bastard or if she had finally gone for help. All she knew was her father was finally dead. After killing her for 2 years, the son of a bitch had finally gotten his due. May he rot in hell.

Her green eyes, huge in her small face, move about the street as she hears bombs in the distance, something she has grown used to in her year on the street. Civil war was something she had grown up hearing about but never thought she'd witness first hand or even have to deal with to survive. But what else can you do when you're all alone in the world and too young to find a job, when you're out of a system who never cared for your welfare? Brianna had resorted to stealing whatever she could to make it through the days and nights, even if it meant stealing a jacket from a corpse. What good is a jacket to a dead soldier?

"Hey Sin. Where you hooking up tonight?"  [ Next ]

Written by Jacynthe F. Durocher