Hope didn't know how to respond to Nefer's revelation, so he simply stayed silent, lowering his gaze. He wasn't good at comforting people, nor did he think words could change the past. Some things were too deep, too painful for platitudes to mend.
The cave was quiet, save for the occasional distant howl of the wind outside. The barren lands stretched endlessly beyond their shelter, the sun casting long, jagged shadows against the cracked earth.
Then, Nefer's voice cut through the silence.
"What about you?"
Hope looked up, meeting her gaze.
"I know you came from the outskirts," she continued. "But what about your parents?"
Hope sighed, his fingers absently tracing patterns in the dust.
"I don't know my parents," he admitted. "I just... remember growing up in the outskirts. Scavenging for food. That's it."
Nefer studied him for a moment. "So how was life in the outskirts?"
Hope let out a short chuckle. It was a bitter sound, humorless.
"Anyone could guess that," he thought. "The outskirts are filled with nothing but hardship."
But then, as he glanced up, a realization struck him like a punch to the gut.
Nefer was staring at him—not just watching, but reading him.
She could read unguided thoughts.
Shit. He had forgotten she could read unguided thoughts
She smirked, her eyes glinting knowingly. "Still, I want you to tell me yourself."
Hope exhaled sharply. The sun burned more fiercely, its golden light stretching across the walls of the cave, casting their shadows longer, deeper.
He leaned back against the rough stone, closing his eyes for a brief moment before speaking.
"Well… I had to scavenge for food. That's how I survived."
The words were simple, but his mind dragged him back—back to the filth-covered alleys, the cold nights, the smell of decay that never truly left his senses.
"Sometimes," he continued, his voice quieter, "there wasn't anything to find. Some days, I had to steal. Some days, I went to bed with nothing but rainwater in my stomach."
Nefer didn't speak, just listened.
"But the worst times," he muttered, eyes darkening, "were when other people got involved."
His fingers clenched into fists.
"There was one time… I was caught in the middle of a gang fight."
The memory was sharp, vivid. The screams, the blood, the look in their eyes when they saw him—a lone, defenseless scavenger, something to use, something to break.
"They used me to settle their dispute," he said bitterly. "I was a token of peace between them. They decided that for one year, I'd belong to them. A living trophy, passed between hands like a coin."
Nefer's expression darkened, but she said nothing.
Hope let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.
"They treated me like an animal." He paused, then corrected himself. "No. Not like an animal. I was an animal to them."
His eyes flickered with something unreadable—anger, pain, exhaustion.
"I was once forced to lick the boot of a gang leader." He let out a slow breath, but his tone remained detached, almost hollow. "And not just any boot. One that had just stepped out of a latrine. All because I ate a food remnant from the city's waste without 'asking' them first." And the other time I was forced to lick a butthole of a gang member...
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
When Hope finally looked up, he saw Nefer staring at him, her expression unreadable.
But her eyes…
Her eyes weren't just shocked.
She looked traumatized.
Or was it something else? Had he said too much?