Wyatt woke slowly, the remnants of sleep still clinging to his body. His head throbbed, eyes heavy, mind foggy. The quiet around him felt unreal—too calm, too empty. He blinked several times, trying to push the haze away.
"Where am I?" He asked himself as he rubbed his eyes awake, last night he remembered running away from an angry mob, he had ran so much that he didn't know where he landed himself.
Looking around he saw that he was close to a lake near a border close to another town, he also noticed something else.
He was dirty, naked, homeless and hungry. What would he do now?
'maybe I should go to the town, they don't know me, right. So maybe they'll take pity on me.'
He dragged his legs to the lake, hoping to clean himself a bit before making his way into town.
He splashed in the water lazily scrubbing his body with his hands, barely getting any dirt off.
After he took his "bath" he noticed they were some wet clothes in a basket close to the shore, someone was probably washing.
The first bit of luck he had gotten in a while, he rummaged through the basket but all the clothes were too big for him. It didn't matter though, he took the ones he could and ran away before the owner could see him.
Eventually he reached the town, legs aching and covered in dust. Luckily for him this wasn't a major city where the gates were guarded, it was a quiet, remote town much like his own.
He quietly walked past the gate, hoping no one here read the newspapers that were spread over his town for almost 11 years. Those newspapers had a picture of him and the crime they said he committed, if anyone here recognized him then it would spell doom for him.
And yet in another bit of luck, it seemed like the papers only spread in his own town, not one person recognized him, but he still got stared here and there, which was expected.
He was dirty, in wet baggy clothes and had two differently colored eyes, if that didn't make someone stand out then he didn't know what else will.
Wyatt's nose twitched, he smelled something delicious. Turning his head he saw a baker's stand a good while away, too far for him to be able to smell anything, yet he smelt it perfectly.
This wasn't the first time this happened, after his "accident" at the orphanage his sense of smell, sight and hearing, were extremely good. He remembered how he heard all the slurs and insults thrown at him by the angry mob.
Quicky shaking his head, he wasn't going to think about now, now he needed food.
He slowly made his way towards the stand and in his smallest voice he asked for some food.
"E-Excuse me sir, may I please have some...bread?"
The baker who had his back turned, turned sharply, thinking that he had finally gotten his first customer of the day.
"Why yes my good sir, a load of bread cost..." He smile faded the instant he saw Wyatt. "Get lost."
He turned back and continued what he was doing earlier.
"Please sir, I'm so hungry. I'll do anything, I can work for it too."
Wyatt pleaded but it all fell on deaf ears, the man didn't even spare him another glance.
Frustration set in. He was so hungry and there was loaves up loaves of pastries in front of him, surely this man wouldn't miss just one.
Out of desperation Wyatt threw a handful of dirt at the baker, took a load of bread and ran as fast as his tired legs could carry him.
"Hey! Someone stop that thief! Catch him!" The baker shouted as he cleaned the dirt off his face. "Get back here"
Wyatt ignores all shouts behind him and scurried forward, he had only one thought in his mind. 'Find somewhere safe and devour this bread'
But his plan was cut short, people on the street gathered around him and stopped him in his tracks.
He clutched the bread, determined to fight for it with his last breath.
"Give us the bread, kid." Someone in the crowd said. Everyone else looked ready to beat the bread out of his hands.
"Never!" Wyatt hissed. Before quickly taking the bread and out of pure hunger, took a massive bite of the hot, freshly baked bread.
The crowd widened their eyes, that hot bread that some of them couldn't even hold with their bear hands, this child just took almost half of it in one bite.
Wyatt swallowed hard, clearly not chewing it thoroughly, readying himslef to take another gigantic bite.
But the crowd snapped out of their daze and jumped him.
Smacking the bread out of his hands and delivering a serious beating on him.
Wyatt rolled into a ball, but he didn't fight back, he didn't have the power to. After the beating was done and the crowd dispered, Wyatt crawled towards the remaining loaf of bread on the floor, it was covered in dirt, but half a loaf of bread was better than none. Literally.
But the baker, stepped on the bread, turning it into mush and spat on it multiple times.
"Have at it, you two eyed freak." He spat and left.
Wyatt watched him leave, then when he was out of sight, he took the spit covered bread mush and ate it.
He hungrily scraped all that he could into his mouth, even eating dirt by accident. He ate all that he could, he began to sob.
This was what his life had come to, even life at the orphanage was better than this. He forced himself up and walked away, looking for where he could find something else to eat.
...
Two days, it had been two days since Wyatt last ate something and it was beginning to take it's toll on him.
He sat on the floor beside a shop, barely protecting himself from the afternoon sun.
The owner of the store was talking to a customer outside as well, she had tried chasing him away multiple times but each time he came back and pleaded to rest for a few more minutes, eventually she just let him be.
"You really should chase that freak out of here, people won't want to do business with you with him stinking up the place." The customer said in disgust, she was even covering her nose.
"You think I haven't tried? The poor thing keeps coming back, he probably doesn't have anywhere else to go." The store owner said in pity. She wasn't going to help him but even her knew how pity children.
"Oh well." The customer sighed, "I've tried my best since I'm your regular but I'm done, I'll come back after you get rid of that trash." She walked away without a second thought.
The shop owner shook her head, tired. This was becoming a problem, customers refused to patronize her anytime they see Wyatt hanging around her store.
"Hey, brat. It's time for you to get lost, find another place for you to waste away, you're chasing away customers." She barked at him.
Wyatt didn't reply, he lacked the power to do it. Even didn't even have the power to lift a finger.
'Just calm down, lady. I'll be dead in a couple of hours anyways.' he wanted to say but didn't have the strength.
Suddenly, the smell of food wafted into his nose, and before he could think anything, two large loaves of bread landed on his lap.
A shadow cast over him and a large burly man with a smile on his face waved at him.
"Eat up. Yer look like shite." His thick yet gentle voice resonated in Wyatt's ear.
'Oh. I'm already dead, this must be the demon sent to drag me to hell.' Wyatt blinked in his head.
"Ya heard me, eat up." The man said again, patiently standing in front of Wyatt.
Wyatt sighed, he was already dead anyways, what more would eating demon bread do to him.
His fingers moved up slowly, snaking it's way to his lap before slightly touching the bread. He felt the warmth, and his eyes widened. This was real.
Energy from God knows where came over him and in mere seconds he wolfed down both loaves of bread. He took a sharp deep breath, like he was suddenly realizing what it was like to live again.
"There ya go. How're yer feeling now?" The man bent down to Wyatt's level and asked with the same smile.
"Thank...you." Wyatt managed to muster, his eyes barely staying open. This man had helped him immensely but the damage was done, his body was too tired.
The man looked Wyatt up and down, this kid was dirty and thin, but he smiled all the same.
"Yer welcome." He waved it off, "What'd ya say, Wanna come home with me?" He suddenly asked.
Wyatt who was barely conscious, gave him a look.
"Why?"
The man shifted closer, unbothered by Wyatt's smell.
"Let's just say, I like taking care of strays." He smiled thoughtfully.
Wyatt sniffled, the thought of someone wanting to take care of him made his chest tight.
"I'm...cursed."
"Yer wouldn't be the first, kid." The man replied.
Tears flowed freely from Wyatt's face, he lacked the energy to make any more sounds, but he still mustered enough to try and say one more word.
"Th... thank....yo...u." and with that his eyes closed and he fell forward, passed out.
The man carefully caught Wyatt with a smile. "It's alright kiddo, I gotcha."