The 12th of April, 2025, would forever be etched into Luna's soul. It was the night she ran away from home—the night her real journey began. She thought she was leaving behind a mother's cold walls to find freedom, but freedom was only an illusion. What she had lived until then was only the prologue of her suffering. Life was waiting, hungry, eager to consume her.
At 10 p.m., beneath a moon that hid behind clouds, Luna walked alone toward the train station. Her destination was Hastings City, two cities away. Her heart beat with both fear and hope. She thought she was escaping. She was wrong.
On the way, a small boy in tattered rags stepped from the shadows. His voice cracked with hunger:
"Please, help me. I'm starving."
Luna saw herself in the boy—fragile, desperate—and reached into her pocket. But compassion betrayed her. Before she could offer him anything, shadows thickened around her. Three huge men emerged from the darkness. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Her voice trembled.
They answered with silence and cruel grins. Rough hands lifted her from the ground. Luna's screams split the night:
"Help! Somebody, help me!"
But the streets were empty, her cries devoured by the void.
"Shut your mouth, you dirty slut. No one's coming," one of them spat.
Terror swallowed her whole.
They dragged her to an abandoned building and threw her onto the filthy floor.
"If it's money, I'll give it to you! Please, don't kill me!" she pleaded, her voice breaking.
"We don't need your money," one sneered.
Then came the sound of belts being undone. Luna understood. And she broke.
For three endless nights, they defiled her. Her body was fed, but her soul starved. The girl who entered that building was not the girl who survived it. They shattered her innocence, crushed her hope, and left behind only ruins.
But fate wasn't finished.
On the third day, battered and bleeding, Luna managed to slip through their carelessness and escape. Her legs carried her only a short distance before she fell into the hands of new monsters—human traffickers. This time, there was no fight left in her. She was numb, a shell drifting through hell.
In a room with ten other broken girls, she was the quietest. On the 17th of April, 2025, she was sold like an object into the abyss. Days later, in a desperate attempt to flee, she was shot. Her blood painted the ground, her life slipping away.
But death was not what came for her.
A man stood above her—not a man, a presence. Her guardian. His voice was thunder and fire:
"Do you still want to live? Do you want to prove to Life that you are stronger than everything it has thrown at you? Or will you die here, useless and forgotten?"
A spark lit in Luna's fading soul. Her lips trembled, but her spirit roared:
"I want to live."
The man chuckled darkly.
"Then live. But know this—you will walk through hell. You will beg for death. You will wish you had never spoken those words. Are you ready?"
Her body was broken, her heart in ruins—but her spirit rose from the ashes.
"I am ready," she whispered.
And in that moment, amidst blood and despair, a new Luna was born.
This was not her end.
This was her beginning.