Ö÷²¥´óÐã

Mia hurried down the dusty alleyway, taking the little six year old boy with her. The thin shoes on her feet echoed on the concrete, her hazel eyes scanning the graffiti on the walls. A thin, scruffy girl rattled a tin begging for money, a pleading look on her face. Mia bent down to whisper in the girl's ear. 'Leave here, it is not safe. Leave before they get you,' and she carried on pacing down the alleyway with the infant at her feet. They passed the rotting body of what was once a skinny boy, as it lay limply on the floor, the ribs and bones protruding through the white skin. Mia walked straight ahead as if she had seen nothing, but she couldn't help tears springing from her eyes and rolling down her pale cheeks like raindrops on a window. They reached the open field and ploughed through the wheat, tripping occasionally as she ran for the security of the cellar.
She passed the boy through the small cellar window to the large, grasping hands that had saved her and the other children who now sheltered in the dark, stuffy room out of harm's way. That was when she caught sight of the scruffy band around the six year old's wrist that had 'Bobby' embroidered on it and the star that was sewn to the back of his clothing. He belonged in the cellar.

Mia looked across the room, studying an older boy's expression. His name was Oliver and he hadn't been there long. He was quite tall with chocolate coloured hair, dark eyes and pearl white skin; he was lucky to be here.

He looked up, meeting her gaze and she smiled sweetly, like a tree blossoming, and for a moment, he lost all sense of reality.

David and Oliver went to get some supplies. An hour later David walked in, followed by a groaning Oliver. Blood ran down his face from the deep wound on the side of his head, dying his short, silky hair wine red. Mia jumped up and ran over to him, a terrified look on her face.
'What happened?' she managed to whisper.
'He'll be OK' David reassured her, 'He's just hit his head, I'll just go and get some dressings to put on it.' Mia relaxed slightly, not taking her eyes off of the wound.
'It's not as bad as it looks; I just slipped down some stairs.' To her surprise, Mia let out a cry and tears ran down her face, taking a suicide leap to the concrete below. Oliver took one look at her and pulled her into a firm embrace, where they stayed for what felt like hours before Mia finally said 'I thought you'd been shot!' He tilted her head up and wiped away the tears and he realized she was weaker than she looked. Inside she must be falling apart, he thought, but she always put on a brave face for the others.