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chugokugogirl
05 NOVEMBER 2013 @ 12:17 AM
Imprinted Evidence - 2
Disclaimer: viewfinder and its characters belong to yamane ayano
Warnings: unedited, au, oc, ooc, abuse, violence, angst, drug use, drug abuse, depression etc etc etc

Prologue - Scar Evi…
Chapter 1 - Stolen …

Chapter two – Soiled Evidence
“My god…is that a child in the trash bins?” a woman asked as she passed by the alley.

“It is! I can’t believe it! That’s so disgusting!” another woman cried out, and soon, a crowd gathered around the alley entrance way. The sound of muttering and gossip grew louder and louder, but that did not bother the child who was rummaging through the trash cans located behind a small restaurant. The child tossed aside bags and loose trash onto the gravel behind him, causing the pedestrians to back away, but they still remained close enough to observe his actions. The kid’s head was deep inside the cans, which perked the audience’s curiosity. The child looked to be rummaging for food. His skinny legs, which were sticking out of his shorts, were pretty good evidence. Heck, they can’t even be called legs. They were two sticks of bones with skin wrapped around them.

It was mid-autumn, and the weather grew substantially cooler each day as time headed towards winter. But even though the crowd looked on with sympathy and pity, it still didn’t make even a single one of them offer up their lunches or coats to the poor kid wearing summer’s clothing searching for food in a trash can.

“Hey!” a little boy around five in the crowd called out. “You can have my orange!” he offered, but immediately got pulled away by his mother. “Don’t talk to him, he’s dirty!” and away they went.

After throwing away a few more trash bags out of his way, the kid finally emerged out of the can, holding a piece of yakisoba bread. The sandwich already had a few bites taken out of it, but that didn’t stop the starving kid form stuffing the bread into his mouth like it was caviar.

The crowed cringed, and a few even threw up, but the kid could care less what people thought of him. The tee shirt he was wearing was a child sized shirt, but it was too large on his thin frame. His shorts were held up by a shoelace he probably found in a park or somewhere. He was wearing shoes, but they were tied to his feet so they wouldn’t fall off. But the most shocking sight was how bony this kid was. He looked to be around ten or twelve, but he was too tall for that age. The kid clearly has been starving for ages, evident by his bony legs and twig like arms. His cheeks were hollowed to the point where you could see the outlines of his skull. His black hair was covered in flies and trash bits, but his appearance didn’t bother him one bit.

Once the kid finished consuming his bread, he took one final look at the spectators before he ran down the opposite side. He staggered quite a bit as he ran for he had no flesh in his legs. The bread will probably give him diarrhea again, but at least his stomach will be filled for a few hours. That trash bin was one he hit up regularly. He would always wait there for a few hours until closing time, and when the restaurant workers came out to throw away the leftover food, he would go and dig in on the feast. But it seemed the owner finally took notice of the missing food and stopped throwing them away. When the kid was waiting by the street today, the owner was keeping guard outside and he was noticed. The son of a bitch was going to throw away the goods anyways, just because he was eating the thrown out food for free, the owner stopped. But the kid understood why, maintaining an image in Asia was very important. The kid sighed. Japan has become increasingly corrupted. But more importantly, he needed to find another restaurant trash bin to target now.

He had a decent life before. He had a few friends, a fun way to make money, but that all went down the drain when he gained a new “home.” Being an orphan, wandering the streets alone, and scamming people for money, had made him crave for a home; a family to greet when he came home, a table covered with warm food, and a hot bath, all given to him without any conditions. He wanted to be able to eat good food without having to suck cock first. He wanted to sleep on a bed without having to masturbate first, and he wanted to have new things without having to beg for drugs first.

Drugs…drugs…white powder…he needed white powder.

The kid began to tremble at the thought of heroin, cocaine, opium and more powders. He bit his lips and covered the old injection scars on his left arm as he slid down onto the cold, stone gravel. He wanted to quit, he honestly did. But the last time he resisted his urges, he nearly bit off his tongue; however a stranger stopped him just in time.

The stranger offered him a job. He would go out and make whatever money he can, and if he can make enough, he’ll be rewarded with some white powder or white pills.

“The last person that tried to get over his addictions committed suicide…Your addiction is already too strong, there’s no way you can quit…” the boy recalled his employer’s words

It’s fine…it’s fine…as long as I can get money, he’ll give me all the drugs I need…for the rest of my life…the kid reassured himself as he stood back up. He had just taken a dose this morning, but his whole body was shivering none stop. The kid reached inside his shorts pocket and pulled out a little white package. With trembling hands, the boy slowly opened up the paper and hurriedly ingested the flour looking powder. For the next few minutes, he just stood against the brick walls and waited for the drug to work its magic.

The shivering soon slowed down, and the boy could feel nothing but lightness and dizzying bless. His head felt clearer, and his legs felt stronger. He let out a satisfied sigh and went to work. He needed money for tomorrow’s dosage. Food, he can find in trash cans or on the sidewalk, but drugs was something that needed money.

With slow steady steps, he walked out of the alley and onto the main road. He swatted away the flies encircling his body and searched for a target. How nostalgic. He used to do this with his two friends. The three of them would fine someone well off, use the “pitiful child” scheme, and rob the person their riches. However, with him covered in trash and flies, no one would want to take pity on him up close. It can only be ‘grab and run.’

It was a Saturday, so the streets were packed full with vendors and private owners displaying their money out in the open. Snatch and run; that’s all he needed to do. He would first go up to a busy vendor, pretend to browse through the merchandise laid out in the open, then grab the money and run. It was that easy. Usually, the vendors were owned by the elderly, which meant they could never catch up to him, even if his legs were fragile.

“Come and get it! Five for ten dollars, five for ten dollars!” a sales lady shouted.

Even though he was smothered in trash, there were too many people touring the night markets to really notice him. The kid merged with the crowd and went to the nearest stall from him – an elderly woman selling handmade oriental handbags.

The woman was busy with several girls, gushing over which designs were cuter, but the only design the boy found cute was the money purse next to the old woman. The woman had her back to the purse as she continued to help the high school girls out with their choices, and the kid took this opportunity to sneak up behind the woman. He pretended to browse through the selection of silk hand bags. He pretended to yawn and looked around the streets to make sure no one noticed him, and then he grabbed it. He grabbed the purse, ducked low into the crowded streets and ran as fast as his skinny legs would take him.

“Hey! Hey you!” the woman from the stand shouted.

Damn, she noticed.

Someone help! There’s a thief! Somebody help!” she screamed, and soon enough, several large men, carrying solid wooden bats started running his way.

The kid took a quick glance behind him and saw the men gaining up on him. He felt his adrenaline pumping hard as he crushed his foot harder into the gravel. He knocked people out of the way and onto the ground, hoping it will slow down his pursuers, but these men, unlike him, get to eat properly at a table, with bowls and chop sticks.

The boy ducked under a set of wooden stairs, hoping the men would pass him by. He coughed when he inhaled a breath full of dust and cobwebs. He felt his shorts growing damp as the wet mud soaked his clothes. He felt the cockroaches scurrying up his arm, and he heard the squeaking of the mice in the back ground as he waited to see if the men had passed by.

He clutched tight onto the thick wallet and waited one heartbeat after another. There was something smelly near him and he only realized too late that it was dog shit. He cringed, but dared not to make a sound. If they caught him, they would really kill him. His body could barely hold his own weight; a beating with those wooden boards would without a doubt cost him his life.

Death didn’t sound bad, but the many times he had wanted to die, the many times he had attempted suicide, he always backed out. Thinking, “maybe I’ll do it tomorrow…”

He didn’t want to die yet. No matter how miserable and pathetic his life was currently, he still wanted to live. There was just that thin string of hope still tied around his soul that’s giving him the will to go on. The tiny hope that perhaps tomorrow, lady luck will finally smile upon him. He had read in a book, which read “living on Earth was a mission from god.” And at that moment, he thought that if he was able to complete this mission, god will award him with happi

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

TẠI MỤC LƯU TRỮ HỒ SƠ BẠN BÈIn dấu bằng chứng - IPVF đi 1/2 - IPTừ đầu (mpreg)Một bức ảnhDrabblesNhạc jazz ngẫu nhiênGần đây mục Trước | Chia sẻ | Tiếp theo chugokugogirl05 THÁNG 11 NĂM 2013 @ 12:17 TRÊNIn dấu bằng chứng - 2 Tuyên bố từ chối: kính ngắm và các nhân vật thuộc yamane ayanoCảnh báo: không chỉnh sửa, au, oc, ooc, lạm dụng, bạo lực, angst, sử dụng ma túy, lạm dụng ma túy, trầm cảm vv vv vv Mở đầu - vết sẹo Evi...Chương 1 - bị đánh cắp...Chương hai-bẩn bằng chứng"Thiên Chúa của tôi... đó là một đứa trẻ trong thùng rác?" một người phụ nữ yêu cầu khi cô đã đi qua hẻm."It's! Tôi không thể tin! Đó là vì vậy kinh tởm!"một người phụ nữ khóc ra, và ngay sau đó, một đám đông tụ tập quanh cửa ngõ đường. Những âm thanh của họ lẩm bẩm và gossip đã tăng trưởng to hơn và to hơn, nhưng đó không bận tâm con người rummaging thông qua các thùng rác nằm ở phía sau nhà hàng nhỏ. Đứa trẻ ném sang một bên túi và các thùng rác lỏng lên sỏi phía sau anh ta, gây ra các người đi bộ để trở lại đi, nhưng họ vẫn đủ gần để quan sát các hành động của mình. Trẻ em đầu là sâu bên trong lon, perked tò mò của khán giả. Con nhìn rummaging cho thực phẩm. Skinny chân của mình, mà đã nhô ra khỏi quần short của mình, đã là khá tốt bằng chứng. Heck, họ không thể thậm chí còn được gọi là chân. Họ đã là hai que của xương với da bọc xung quanh họ.It was mid-autumn, and the weather grew substantially cooler each day as time headed towards winter. But even though the crowd looked on with sympathy and pity, it still didn’t make even a single one of them offer up their lunches or coats to the poor kid wearing summer’s clothing searching for food in a trash can.“Hey!” a little boy around five in the crowd called out. “You can have my orange!” he offered, but immediately got pulled away by his mother. “Don’t talk to him, he’s dirty!” and away they went.After throwing away a few more trash bags out of his way, the kid finally emerged out of the can, holding a piece of yakisoba bread. The sandwich already had a few bites taken out of it, but that didn’t stop the starving kid form stuffing the bread into his mouth like it was caviar.The crowed cringed, and a few even threw up, but the kid could care less what people thought of him. The tee shirt he was wearing was a child sized shirt, but it was too large on his thin frame. His shorts were held up by a shoelace he probably found in a park or somewhere. He was wearing shoes, but they were tied to his feet so they wouldn’t fall off. But the most shocking sight was how bony this kid was. He looked to be around ten or twelve, but he was too tall for that age. The kid clearly has been starving for ages, evident by his bony legs and twig like arms. His cheeks were hollowed to the point where you could see the outlines of his skull. His black hair was covered in flies and trash bits, but his appearance didn’t bother him one bit.Once the kid finished consuming his bread, he took one final look at the spectators before he ran down the opposite side. He staggered quite a bit as he ran for he had no flesh in his legs. The bread will probably give him diarrhea again, but at least his stomach will be filled for a few hours. That trash bin was one he hit up regularly. He would always wait there for a few hours until closing time, and when the restaurant workers came out to throw away the leftover food, he would go and dig in on the feast. But it seemed the owner finally took notice of the missing food and stopped throwing them away. When the kid was waiting by the street today, the owner was keeping guard outside and he was noticed. The son of a bitch was going to throw away the goods anyways, just because he was eating the thrown out food for free, the owner stopped. But the kid understood why, maintaining an image in Asia was very important. The kid sighed. Japan has become increasingly corrupted. But more importantly, he needed to find another restaurant trash bin to target now.He had a decent life before. He had a few friends, a fun way to make money, but that all went down the drain when he gained a new “home.” Being an orphan, wandering the streets alone, and scamming people for money, had made him crave for a home; a family to greet when he came home, a table covered with warm food, and a hot bath, all given to him without any conditions. He wanted to be able to eat good food without having to suck cock first. He wanted to sleep on a bed without having to masturbate first, and he wanted to have new things without having to beg for drugs first.Drugs…drugs…white powder…he needed white powder.The kid began to tremble at the thought of heroin, cocaine, opium and more powders. He bit his lips and covered the old injection scars on his left arm as he slid down onto the cold, stone gravel. He wanted to quit, he honestly did. But the last time he resisted his urges, he nearly bit off his tongue; however a stranger stopped him just in time.The stranger offered him a job. He would go out and make whatever money he can, and if he can make enough, he’ll be rewarded with some white powder or white pills.“The last person that tried to get over his addictions committed suicide…Your addiction is already too strong, there’s no way you can quit…” the boy recalled his employer’s wordsIt’s fine…it’s fine…as long as I can get money, he’ll give me all the drugs I need…for the rest of my life…the kid reassured himself as he stood back up. He had just taken a dose this morning, but his whole body was shivering none stop. The kid reached inside his shorts pocket and pulled out a little white package. With trembling hands, the boy slowly opened up the paper and hurriedly ingested the flour looking powder. For the next few minutes, he just stood against the brick walls and waited for the drug to work its magic.The shivering soon slowed down, and the boy could feel nothing but lightness and dizzying bless. His head felt clearer, and his legs felt stronger. He let out a satisfied sigh and went to work. He needed money for tomorrow’s dosage. Food, he can find in trash cans or on the sidewalk, but drugs was something that needed money.With slow steady steps, he walked out of the alley and onto the main road. He swatted away the flies encircling his body and searched for a target. How nostalgic. He used to do this with his two friends. The three of them would fine someone well off, use the “pitiful child” scheme, and rob the person their riches. However, with him covered in trash and flies, no one would want to take pity on him up close. It can only be ‘grab and run.’It was a Saturday, so the streets were packed full with vendors and private owners displaying their money out in the open. Snatch and run; that’s all he needed to do. He would first go up to a busy vendor, pretend to browse through the merchandise laid out in the open, then grab the money and run. It was that easy. Usually, the vendors were owned by the elderly, which meant they could never catch up to him, even if his legs were fragile.“Come and get it! Five for ten dollars, five for ten dollars!” a sales lady shouted.Even though he was smothered in trash, there were too many people touring the night markets to really notice him. The kid merged with the crowd and went to the nearest stall from him – an elderly woman selling handmade oriental handbags.The woman was busy with several girls, gushing over which designs were cuter, but the only design the boy found cute was the money purse next to the old woman. The woman had her back to the purse as she continued to help the high school girls out with their choices, and the kid took this opportunity to sneak up behind the woman. He pretended to browse through the selection of silk hand bags. He pretended to yawn and looked around the streets to make sure no one noticed him, and then he grabbed it. He grabbed the purse, ducked low into the crowded streets and ran as fast as his skinny legs would take him.“Hey! Hey you!” the woman from the stand shouted.
Damn, she noticed.

Someone help! There’s a thief! Somebody help!” she screamed, and soon enough, several large men, carrying solid wooden bats started running his way.

The kid took a quick glance behind him and saw the men gaining up on him. He felt his adrenaline pumping hard as he crushed his foot harder into the gravel. He knocked people out of the way and onto the ground, hoping it will slow down his pursuers, but these men, unlike him, get to eat properly at a table, with bowls and chop sticks.

The boy ducked under a set of wooden stairs, hoping the men would pass him by. He coughed when he inhaled a breath full of dust and cobwebs. He felt his shorts growing damp as the wet mud soaked his clothes. He felt the cockroaches scurrying up his arm, and he heard the squeaking of the mice in the back ground as he waited to see if the men had passed by.

He clutched tight onto the thick wallet and waited one heartbeat after another. There was something smelly near him and he only realized too late that it was dog shit. He cringed, but dared not to make a sound. If they caught him, they would really kill him. His body could barely hold his own weight; a beating with those wooden boards would without a doubt cost him his life.

Death didn’t sound bad, but the many times he had wanted to die, the many times he had attempted suicide, he always backed out. Thinking, “maybe I’ll do it tomorrow…”

He didn’t want to die yet. No matter how miserable and pathetic his life was currently, he still wanted to live. There was just that thin string of hope still tied around his soul that’s giving him the will to go on. The tiny hope that perhaps tomorrow, lady luck will finally smile upon him. He had read in a book, which read “living on Earth was a mission from god.” And at that moment, he thought that if he was able to complete this mission, god will award him with happi