Luther had just finished shopping when he decided to take a break near the old oak tree sitting between his house and the restaurant. As always, he would sit on the bench located directly under the tree to enjoy the midday ocean breeze that brought a pleasant smell to his nose.

While he was approaching the tree, he took note of the many children running around and playing, them trying to enjoy the wondrous weather that brought clear skies accompanied by the sun. However, today he saw a little girl, no more than seven or eight years old, sitting on the spot he would always sit on the bench.

This little girl was different than the other children, her clothes were drastically poorer in quality compared to the children running around, they were old worn-out rags sewn together becoming a makeshift dress that covered her body. Her face was dark and filled with anxiety compared to the smiles of the other children and she was trying to hide away from the sun rather than try to enjoy it. Luther stopped when he got closer when he could see the bruises on her face which wore a frown trying to keep her emotions in check.

He knew immediately why the girl had bruises on her face and where she came from, the slums.

The slums were the second of the districts that boarded the commons. Lying n the outskirts of the city, the slums were filled with the inhabitants of the poor. Whether they lost all their money due to bad luck or had been born right into poverty, all the people who ended up in the slums had nothing. The general consensus of the other districts towards the people from the slums was to see them as nothing more than garbage.

Knowing this, Luther already knew why the kids were ignoring her. Her fresh bruises must have come from her everyday life, stealing and scavenging to survive. her clothes must have been made from nothing more than old fabric she found in some garbage dump.

Luther knew the sort of life she lives, bringing back old memories of when he came to this city, However before he could reminisce about his old life, he noticed a group of boys forming around the girl.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here" a boy that seemed to be from a wealthy family spoke.

"No rule" the girl's hoarse voice barely coming out that showed her lack of education trying to chase the boys away.

"You mean there are no rules against you being here" Snarky, said another boy trying to spite her for her poor words. The other boys just laughed, However, one boy was not amused. The initial boy who she directed her words back to grabbed her by the hair and threw her down to the ground.

"Hey Bitch, you aren't allowed to talk back to me."

He then grabbed her by her hair that was dirtier than some kitchen rags.

"You're just a dirty little whore! Who are you to talk back to the heir of the Jezebelle family."

He formed a fist in his right hand and punched her across the face so hard she was knocked down.

"I'm sorry, please no hit"

With her experience, the girl herself could have killed the boys and escaped, however knowing that the boys came from wealthy families, killing them would mean killing herself. The boys' families would have hunted her down and tortured her to death over the boys' death. And coming from the slums, survival was her only goal. So the girl pleaded, she pleased with all the sincerity her small body could muster up putting up a pitiful display in front of everyone in the vicinity. However, it wasn't enough.

"Guys, teach the bitch a lesson"

With his eyes filled with misguided pride, the Jezebelle boy signalled the start of a brutal beating.

First, one of the boys picked her up by her hair while the other started punching and kicking her like a piñata, and like a piñata, the girl's bruises opened up and she started coughing up blood. From a fare distance away, you could hear the sound of the punches hitting her poor skin creating more bruises and her ribs were being shattered by the boys' kicks. And when their hands and legs started to get sore, they would use nearby large branches and slam them against her poor body causing her to scream in agony.

"Let go! Let go, please let go!" The girl was screaming as tears rolled down her face as blood out of her mouth as the boys kept beating her.

"Hahahaha" the boys started laughing like hyenas at her misery and pain.

"I'm s... BLEUHG" the girl kept begging them to stop but the beating caused her to cough and wheeze, still squirting blood out of her mouth.

No one around the scene would try to stop the boys. Knowing his status, they were reluctant to even interfere. But knowing that the little girl came from the slums, their desire to help dropped to zero, even seeing the boys' actions as more of a cleaning service, knowing that the guard would get rid of the body if they killed her. What was one more dead rat to them, they thought while the girl was getting beat?

Even the guards whose job was to keep the peace kept their distance, fearing the scolding they would get from their superiors.

I'...wheeeuwww..m s... huuuuh"

Eventually, the girl tried to get out one last apology, wheezing out her words with a pained voice, before losing consciousness due to the pain.

"HAH, hey boys, we're going to go get rid of... What the Fuck do you want!"

The Jezebelle boy felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Sorry boys, could you leave the girl with me"