The Mud Puddle Girl

She played in the mud, making art; in her own version. She heard the screams but would not believe the sounds. How could she still be alive, how could she be alive and important when the she had to sit in the mud making art because there was a lack of art supplies in this god forsaken place.
She hated it here and how it came to be that she got here. She woke up in a hospital have being shot three times in the chest, she should have been dead. The last thing she could remember was seeing that girls face looking down on her with sad eyes, then young men came into her room; telling her that her family was gone and she was being taken to a safe place in Brazil. Brazil, there was always talk about Brazil. It was crazy that this had all happened as said, just crazy. She stayed in miserable hut with the mother of the two girls walking through the village. The mother was week and old, she had to been shot and survived, there were various others to which she had forgotten the names to. She had given up on talking and everything else; she had lost everything and everyone. How was she to live in this world with nothing but scars and stories. Now, though, walking through this village as if it was an everyday thing strode her, the love of her previous life, and the girl who stood over her dying body. She was now angry, she wanted to confront them and make them suffer as well. They were going in to the jungle, towards Rio she thought. She could take a wagon and be there in two days time. She got up from her puddle and went to the hut. She packed her things, little she had. A knife, some food and water. She set off, after the two who ended her life, it was pure revenge, the most valuable emotion she could come up with in this point in her life. She rode through the jungle, she planned out the different methods. She also spent hours going over the memories she stored away for the day this chance would come. They left her there to die, they left her all alone.