The beam of light pins me to the wall. I can only imagine how I look, hunched over the half eaten load of bread, still shoveling crumbs into my mouth, squinting towards the light.

“Drop it!” The sour voice comes from someone I can not see against the glaring light.

Instead of obliging, I shove the rest of the bread into my mouth as quickly as possible, the grumbling in my stomach winning over any logic.

“Hey!” A second later the thick end of a night stick slams into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Resolute, I continue to chew furiously through the pain, eyes watering.

It isn’t until much later, when I’ve been trundled into the back of a barred wagon to be carted to the jail, that the shame begins to set in. Now that the aching, gnawing hunger in my stomach that had haunted me for weeks has finally abated enough to think. Now that I have nothing for company but the rats in the corners of the cell, nothing to see but the blank, damp wall across the way.

A drunkard a few cells over begins to sing a melancholy country tune, soft at first, growing stronger with each verse.

“-and when my girl, she found me there, she shook her head, and said, you’re dead-“

I might as well be dead, for all the good I was providing to this world. Nothing but a burden to society, barely keeping myself alive, let alone fulfilling any purpose.

What did I have to help this world? To make it a better place? What did I contribute, other than another mouth to feed?

It hadn’t always been this way. Years ago I’d been respected, well off, bordering on wealthy even.

But now I had slipped, tumbled off my golden pedestal until I was all but unrecognizable. Until I was no better than the rats that populated the sewers.

And the worst bit - I was all alone.