For 17 days I was living on the streets of Eastport. The little, filthy alley behind a brothel in the city harbor served a temporary home to me. Madam Tamara, the owner of this fine establishment, been kind enough to feed me some leftovers remained from the feasts of her clients and didn’t expose my whereabouts to James. I was grateful to her, though I also knew this kindness stems mostly from her resentment towards the Scorpion syndicate and towards the notorious James Castell himself, who promised a generous reward for everyone who will bring information and of course will deliver me back to him. Well, Tamara had her reasons not to oblige and her brothel had earned her enough money, to avoid exposing me. I could be safe in my hiding for some time, until I’ll realize where to go next, if not Tommy. Tommy, the little street urchin, about 12 years old, who shared with me my homeless fate, Tamara’s alley and leftovers, started to give me strange, suspicious glances. I knew I no longer had the looks of Maria De Morrela, neither carried her name and yet, Tommy’s greedy, curios looks made me more anxious from day to day. Until that one hot night, I woke up from my troubled sleep to find Tommy next time, ropes in his thin hands. He was planning to sell me out. I knew it! Something snapped within me, all these nights of anxiety and fear, more than two weeks without a proper shower, feeding on leftover, turned into blind rage. I smacked the boy on his head with my fist. The next thing I remember is me on top of him and my hands squeezing his feeble neck. He didn’t struggle much, his eyes popping out, weak whimpers is all I could hear until even these stopped, while his eyes continued blankly staring at me, unblinking. I could no longer stay there. I had to run and hide.
It’s been about two years since I took his life. His dark eyes hunt me still and will probably hunt me until the rest of my days