Today was the day Siv was to die.
He hadn't lived a long life, and he hadn't lived a good life. The most that could be said for it was that it was against all odds that it happened at all. It seemed the world itself wanted him dead, and its wish would be granted.
Death was no stranger to Siv. He had been hungry before, sure, but never so hungry he could not scavenge. The other urchins had picked through his belongings the day before, as Siv was too weak to stop them. He did not blame them, but he hated them all the same. Roach, the closest thing Siv could call a friend, at least seemed apologetic while he took Siv's ratty blanket and left him to die.
They had known each other for years, but such was the life in the city.
Siv, curled up on some soggy cardboard on the outskirts of town, glanced up to the sound of squeaking. A rat was near, looking at him quizzically. Siv had seen many people in this situation, and the rats would rarely wait for a person to die to begin feasting.
The rat came closer, seemingly wondering if Siv was still alive. Siv, racked by more excruciating hunger cramps, had an inkling of an idea. He squinted his eyes further, holding as still as possible.
The rat came closer, sniffing. Siv held his breath. It was within arms reach now. A little longer... The rat crept closer still.
Now! Siv threw his hand out, grabbing the poor rat in his emaciated claw. He quickly clutched it with both hands, and snapped the thing's neck with a twist. He sat up, his vision swimming. He held the rat in his hands, dreading his meal. He tried to rip open the skin of the rat to get at the meat inside, but its hide proved too tough for his weak hands. He looked around, seeing shattered glass from a bottle nearby. Picking up the largest shard, he sliced open the rat's skin to reveal sparse red flesh underneath. He sighed, then bit into it.
The meat was stringy and tough, but food was food. The rat's beady eyes looked into his as he chewed.
"It was you or me." The rat said nothing. "Come on, don't look at me like that. You'd have done the same." Still, the rat was silent. Siv sighed.
He heard yelling coming from the tavern he was outside of. Suddenly, the back door burst open and the manager came out, red faced and sweaty. "Damn it woman, I don't know! What the hell can I do about it?! People don't have money for beer every night!"
He was getting yelled at by a woman, likely his wife. The man slammed the door shut behind him and he let out an exasperated groan. Looking up, he noticed Siv with his half-eaten meal.
"Foul urchin! Eating rats outside my damn tavern!" The man angrily stormed towards Siv, kicking him in the ribs. "Get out of here, you hear? I'll kill you, boy!" He kicked again, and Siv felt his weak bones crunching under the impact. He cried out in pain, trying to crawl away from the man. "Damn brat!"
Siv had dropped his rat. The man chased him off, and Siv hobbled away, holding his cracked ribs. Tears streamed from his eyes. Why was it all so unfair? Why couldn't the bastard of a tavern keeper let him eat his rat in peace?
Siv staggered across the streets under the dim illumination of the full moon. He had cried all that he could, and found himself near the river that ran through the outskirts. He staggered down the bank and greedily cupped water into his mouth. The water was dirty but refreshingly cold.
He fell backwards, letting his head hit the grass. He held his ribs with his left hand, groaning at the pain. He wished he could just vanish.
Siv stared at the sky, thinking back on his pitiful life. 13 years of nothing. Nothing to be proud of, nothing to look forward to. 13 years of survival. He had lived in a foster home but ran away after being struck by one of his foster parents. He felt profound relief in this moment, however, knowing it would all be over. He could tell that if he closed his eyes now, they would not open again.
So why did he keep them open? Why was he staring at the sky? Why did his heart continue to beat in defiance? Why did it defy his will, hell, even the world's will for him to be dead?
It all welled up inside him. Hate-- for the world, for the people that shunned him. Pain-- the physical pain of his ribs and emaciated body, and too much emotional pain to even process. He hated it all. He stared at a particularly bright star, hating that it could shine in such a way. He kept his eyes open as his heart beat weaker and weaker, and he felt the rest of his body growing numb. That damn star seemed to be getting even brighter, as everything else became darker.
Siv resigned himself to his fate. He let his eyelids droop. The darkness encroached, until all that was left was that star.
Siv died.