Writer

Holding a body of her last victims and sirens

Shout,Mrs Ann Louis. a flash of how it all started.

A dripp Afternoon about 1:15pm,a little nine years old girl with awful and a bruised body her name was Ann Erdman Jr she looked homeless, held out a tray asking for alms, people walking past her like is too invisible to see, this was the busy street of Sainte-Catherine in Montreal. Moving aimlessly she began to weep, you might think she was only putting up an act to be taken pitied on, although it made passers-by drop alms for her, but it was her memory who had hit her hard, just a few months ago, she was with her siblings, playing, having Families dinners and getting all the attentions on her birthday, but now she lives in this gigantic house she would never be able to call home, as she lived with a foster parent who had twelve kids, a Mom whose only interest is in the money and benefits she could get from them, both from the social workers also their daily hustle and top it off, a Father who is a pretentious and self-righteous drunk, who always arrived home late with bottles of wines and hampered on them all down.

If he couldn't get an expected cut from the money they brought back, he would hit them, except His daughter Kyla, which he couldn't touch her earnings.

As Ann was walking sluggishly with her head all bowed, her hands moving side to side to get people attention, she bumped hard to a tall woman in her late 40s with a paled skin, an oval shaped face, a smokey painted cruel eyes, a well lined curved red painted lips, dressed in a heavy brown fur also a red-hot hat to match with her red boots