Kayla

Kayla grew up in a tight-knit, working-class neighborhood, helping her parents make ends meet while dreaming of studying psychology. But when her father lost his job and her mother fell seriously ill, everything fell apart. Medical bills piled up, and her father turned to alcohol, sinking deeper into despair. By 16, Kayla left home to escape the increasingly unsteady environment, unwilling to rely on indifferent relatives. Life on the streets was unforgiving. Kayla learned fast—how to spot danger, how to find food, and where to sleep to avoid trouble. She made a few friends among other young homeless people, but she kept her distance, unwilling to rely on anyone but herself. Her nights were spent wandering, scavenging, and sometimes doing odd jobs when she could find them. By day, she would sit near the public library, reading and learning, refusing to let her mind stagnate despite her situation. Over time, she gained a reputation in the neighborhood as a quiet, watchful figure. Local shopkeepers and street vendors would sometimes leave a meal or warm blanket where she could find it, a silent gesture of kindness. Though Kayla longed for a normal life, she struggled to trust others and avoided shelters, haunted by stories of violence and theft. Despite her fierce independence, she yearns for genuine human connection, but life has taught her to keep her walls high. Now, at 19, she lives one day at a time, still clinging to her dreams in the quiet moments. She keeps a tattered notebook filled with ideas and thoughts, hoping that someday, she might find her way off the streets and back to a life where she can rebuild, reconnect, and find a future beyond survival.