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She wondered often whether anyone would remember the girl from New Salem Philanthropic Society. Sometimes Modesty had no clue what was something she knew and something she dreamed. There was no home to return to, no family, fake nor real, it was just her. A young girl alone in the world and she had no clue where to turn. Nonetheless, she survived. She had to survive. There was no other option. The girl did not have it in her to lie down and accept death or anything of the like.
Modesty rebelled against Mary Lou, against her adoptive mother’s strict regime and delusional propaganda. She held her own as long as she could but what use was it now? When she was often hungry, alone, scared... there was no where in New York for her. No family to be with, no soul who cared.
The girl sighed, pinching her nose before sifting through the trash. Maybe she’d find something edible today.
