The Boy Who Carried Me Chapter 2

Maybe fate decided we weren't meant to die.

Lucas and I were fished out. Back then, abandoned babies were common; people were numb to it.

Everyone was poor, and everyone had too many kids. No one wanted two more mouths to feed.

I cried until my face turned purple.

But five-year-old Lucas didn't cry.

He stood there, picking at his dirty fingernails, staring wide-eyed at the circle of adults pointing and whispering.

The little boy looked around until his gaze landed on the Blind Granny.

He shouted at her, "You can't see! Take us home, and I'll be your eyes!"

The Blind Granny was kind-hearted and felt pity, but she was destitute and could barely feed herself.

Seeing her hesitation, Lucas walked over and tugged on her clothes.

"Granny, I'm a hard worker. Please take me and my sister home, okay?"

That sentence made the Blind Granny pick me up.

When she held tiny me in her arms, the crowd laughed.

"A blind old woman with two kids? They'll starve in five days!"

Lucas got angry. He grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at the man who spoke. "I won't starve!"