<span style="font-style: italic">His breath was echoing around him, heartbeat pounding in his ears, face flush from the wind rushing against his cheeks as he ran. Down streets, sidewalks, through a park, anywhere to get away from the man who was determined to catch him, to punish him for the petty crime of wanting nothing more than not starve tonight. Six years old, all alone on the dirty streets, invisible to a high society world where the less fortunate were nothing more than an inconvenience and nothing special. It was almost as if they were fairy tale or fiction to these people. And that also meant that those with more strength upon them could get away with a lot more, no fear of being reprimanded holding them back.<br/><br/>Turning a sharp left, he barely manages to keep his footing on the concrete, but as his footsteps reverberated around him, bouncing off of the walls on either side, he saw, with a sinking in his chest, that this was a dead end. Somehow word had spread like wildfire, and a small group of people had blocked off the other end. He steps back, turning to go the other way, but was cut off by the man who was originally chasing him down.<br/><br/>His chest rose and fell rapidly, sharp breaths making it near impossible to see straight, lungs feeling as if he was being stabbed over and over with broken shards of glass. They closed in on him, making him shrink in fear, knowing that this was it. His eyes looked around, trying to find a miracle window that he could slip through to get away, but this time there were none. He was, inevitably, trapped. They surround him, all talking about his flaws, yelling at him and jeering, and the shop man, red faced and large, pushed forward to the front of the group, yelling at him the loudest.<br/><br/>He couldn't hear the words, all it was to him was a jumble of crashing waves. That was until he was pushed, falling back hard against the wall behind him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. For a moment he saw specks of light, as he slid to a heap on the ground, food spread out from the bag he had been carrying in his arms, an apple rolling away on the ground to his left, while a loaf of bread was smashed into the dirt by someone's foot. A small tear manages to slip out, clearing a path down his dirty face, the only thing seemingly pristine was his pure white hair.</span><br/><br/>Thinking he was going to get the snot beat out of him, he tenses up, until he hears a feminine voice calling out over the cacophony of other noises. His head raises slightly, pale blue eyes peeking out from behind wavy bangs that hid most of his face, but he saw her easily. Beauty in the midst of a sea of putrid, stinking filth, an angel among demons. His eyes grew wide, and a gasp goes unheard. She was...perfection.<br/><br/>The man closest to her hears what she said, and turns to look at her, jeering rudely. "Hell yeah it's necessary. This punk thought he could get away with stealing from me! Y'know what the punishment from stealing from me is, lady?" He narrows his eyes, snapping his fingers, and almost like an instant trap, fingers clasp around his wrist, like an iron grip he could not pull away from. The lady who had him pulled at him, closer to the storekeeper he'd wronged, and shoves him down on his hands and knees in front of him, pushing his face into the stone lined ground, scraping the tip of his nose and making it sting.<br/><br/>One man held him in that position, while the lady held his arm out by his wrist. The shopkeeper grins devilishly as he pulls what looked to be a butcher knife from his belt. "It's a finger for each item. And he's stolen from me plenty. I think the whole damn hand seems fair." Azariah, the boy, manages to turn his head, and standing there in front of him was the woman. He looks up at her with tears in his eyes, blood dripping down from the cuts and scrapes on his face.<br/><br/>"Please, lady, please help me!" He was trembling, terror taking over, and he felt like he was going to be sick. "Shut it boy!" Another shouts, kicking him in the ribs, making him cough and hack, crying out even more. But he had to try again, even if it got him kicked. "Please...please help. I didn't mean to steal. I don't have a home, I don't have money! I have nothing! Please, please...please...." His voice got quiet as he begged, and in result, due to him talking again, he felt the foot slam again into his side. He collapses to the ground, knees no longer able to hold him up. The shining knife glints as it raises into the air, and the man looks at the woman, a nasty look in his eyes. He then turned to Azariah, and brings the knife down, clearly intent on cutting the boy's hand clean off. Azariah screams, and as shock took over, he passes out, not knowing what happened next.