My name is Kimi. I’m a girl with brown hair and brown eyes. I live outside a gated community in a suburb, in an apartment I’m supposed to call home. My mother lives with me, under the poverty line. How we are able to keep our apartment, who knows. Our landlord is probably dead or something. Like I could care less - I have problems of my own to worry about.

Number one right now is finding a way to have enough for food. All I remember seeing in our cupboard was half a piece of french bread my mother brought home from her janitorial job at a local pop’s shop.

Brows low and eyes looking ahead, I stand outside the creaky door of my apartment’s entrance, staring across the road at the black wrought iron gate that made the houses within look more prestigious than they already are. The social contrast was glaringly clear, only made more prominent by the road that s inbetween as a border.

“Kimi, it’s cold out!”, I hear mother yell from inside. I know she’s calling me inside not only from her concern for me, but because we cannot afford even cough syrup if I fall ill. I wrap my arms around my torso, and breathe in a shuddering breath. I feel tears prickling the corners of my eyes. I feel pathetic.

Everyday, I repeat the notion of staring across the street and staying planted on my feet until mother calls me in. Everyday, I feel the tears threatening to spill. Sadness, anger, or jealousy - what I feel is unclear to me. One may describe me as a girl ‘drowning herself in self-pity’. How can I not, though? I am dirt poor and living right beside the people who have taken everything from me. To think that I once had a dream, I once lived stably - I once was headed in the right direction.

On this particular day, I stand in the same spot already marked by my shoe prints. Today, the wind is unusually colder and much stronger - that my hair is lashing at my cheeks and I feel a sting begin to throb. Today, the tears manage to flow over. My nose starts to numb and snot up.

Today, something is different - someone is looking at me from the other side of the gate. A man who looks tall enough to be on one of those rich people magazines. His hair was brown like mine, except his shone, in contrast to the stringy flop on my head. He wore nice clothes - they looked so expensive. I clenched my jaw and huffed. This time, I didn’t wait for mother to call me in. I my heel and stomped inside the apartment.

I hate him, whoever that was. Where he stood was where I should be. He looked at me as if he was a kind soul who took pity on me. I hate him even more. I’m sure I work harder than he ever had, yet he had the audacity to look at me like I was some lost puppy. Everything was unfair - it doesn’t matter how hard you work.. because where money is involved, talent is not considered.

 I remember the man’s expression, and I slam a fist onto the bed. I cannot handle those kinds of people. With my head against the headboard, I silently resent the universe and the workings of it.

Winter is almost here, complete with all the cold, ice, and barren trees.

Her cold heart, words of ice, and hollow soul.
 

[A/N]

Hello! That was a small introduction to the story and its point of view. Please keep reading~ the first real chapter is next :)

- Eunice