Her bare feet dragged along in the dirt, stumbling, staggering. Every inch of her body ached, blood dripping from the gash on her forehead - her nose - her mouth. Her arm was wrapped loosely around her abdomen where she felt an intense sting. The brunette’s breathing was ragged - labored. Dark drops of crimson fell into the dry, sunlit dirt below her, drying almost instantly.
She was dying- that much the young woman was sure of. And the only thing keeping her alive at that very instance was the sheer will to survive. No one in her nation knew her for she had been a slave her entire life. Some may have seen her in the market once or twice with her master, but that was all. So as she struggled to lift her feet and carry on through the roads of Thebes, no one batted an eye at her. No one lifted a finger to help.
Oh how harsh humanity could be…
Selene wore only a thin tunic which had been torn up to her hip - revealing the dark bruise on her upper thigh. She felt self-conscious. As if all eyes were on her, yet none cared to do a thing. A shiver escaped her lips, followed by a gagging cough which forced blood to her lips. Losing her balance, Selene fell forward with a sharp groan of pain as she face-planted into the dirt.
Weakly, her head lifted and she spit the blood from her mouth into the dirt. She looked about, eyebrows furrowing and breath coming in shallow pants. The harsh sun beat down upon her face, forcing droplets of sweat into the mixture of blood and dirt. She was a mess which, she could tell, was taking the attention of civilians busy at work an play.
She wondered shortly what she had ever done wrong to deserve such a fate, but the thought passed quickly. She accepted her fate and let her head fall as her breaths came slower and less frequent with each passing second.