s t o p a n d s t a r e {geebs|blitz}

She sat her station and her stomach rumbled. Waya hadn't eaten breakfast, or dinner the night before. Their cupboards were empty, and what little she had saved went towards keeping her mother alive. She had fed her spoonfuls of weak broth, her mouth watering at the thought of food.
Now, she sat on her cold metal stool, wrapping wire around and around onto spools. Her foreman kept saying she was smarter than brunt work, that'd she'd be promoted to something more interesting. But part of Waya knew he was bluffing. The dirty teeth that showed when he smiled at her told her what he wanted from her. She was not prepared to give that away.
Her stomach rumbled.
Not yet.
A whistle blew. Lunch time. She set down her tools and filed out of the factory with all the other workers. Their lunch pails thumped against her thighs as she walked past and she thought about how easy it would be to snatch one.

No, Waya. You're your mother's angel. You have to behave like one.
She didn't feel like one now. The stars had forsaken her today, and she couldn't get over how hungry she was. She was light headed, and her fingers freezing from twisting metal.

She spotted a young girl, her face was familiar but Waya didn't know why. The girl had a little brown bag in her hand.

Her stomach growled.

She sped up, brushing the girl and grabbing the brown bag. She yanked it to free it from its owner and instantly felt bang of regret.

"I- uh I'm sorry," she stuttered, letting go of the brown paper and turning away.

Some angel she was.

She turned her face away from the child. Tears building up her eyes as she realized what she had tried to do. She hated thieves. She had been the victim of them many times and to drop to their level- to steal from a little girl.

A sharp pang stabbed Waya right through the stomach- and it wasn't a hunger pain.

"Hey," she heard a small voice say from behind her. Her anxious feet stopped their get away, and she turned back to look at the little girl. She had dark skin, like Waya, but had bright eyes. "You can have this."

This small girl held out the bag of food to her and Waya crumbled. Like the paintings of angels her mother loved, she fell to her knees in front of this tiny piece of hope. She had been choking back her tears before, but now they flowed freely down her cheeks, dripping off her chin.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," her voice was soon muffled with emotion, and she looked at the ground ashamed of her actions, and embarrassed by the desperation in her voice. She was nearly out of the shadow of the Reaping- an adult practically and here she was at the whim of a child.

"I- I can't take this," she mumbled. The guilty part of her heart still felt punishment for the thought of stealing was due- she couldn't simply accept what she was willing to steal... could she?

"You can have it. I can always make more."

Waya cautiously looked up. This girl looked so familiar to her, maybe she had seen her in a dream. She held out the bag, and with shaking hands Waya took it.

"Thank you," she said between sniffles. Waya wiped her nose on the sleeve of her thin shirt. "I'm Waya, by the way."

She opened the bag and peered in. It held a sandwich and actual fruits, not just canned stuff the Peacekeepers hand out some times. Fresh produce. And bread. How long had it been since Waya had bread that wasn't fished out of a dumpster?

"What is your name? I want to thank you," she said, her voice quiet and calm. She didn't feel like tearing into the food right this moment. Now that she had some, she would save it and bring it home to mother. Nibble on it for as long as she could. She would live off of this. She would survive.