Chapter 3: I am a Girl?

A vile stink hit me, bad enough to wake the dead – or, in my case, the recently deceased. It was a foul brew, like old privies, rotting fish, and bad eggs all mixed together. Truly ghastly.

My new body, though, felt weak as a kitten. I was burning up one second, freezing the next. A strange sort of ague. My eyelids felt like lead weights, and my stomach was painfully empty, like I hadn't eaten in days.

My mind was waking up, but my body was still half-asleep, heavy and dull. My thoughts were all jumbled, memories flickering in and out. The last clear thing I remembered was that giant fly, then being chucked into that crazy portal. After that, just a wild spin, like being tossed down a giant drain, then… nothing. Until now.

But hang on, I was dead, wasn't I? So how could I feel sleepy, smell this awful reek, or be this hungry? Do ghosts get hungry? This was new.

Then I heard a man shouting. Nasty stuff, real gutter talk. It wasn't English, not quite, but somehow… I could mostly understand it. Like a new language was bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.

“She's no good anymore! Toss her out on the cobbles!” That was him. His voice… it sounded so familiar, like I’d heard it a million times. But another part of me swore I’d never heard it in my life. Weird.

A rough hand, all calluses, grabbed me – didn't lift me proper, just yanked me up and chucked me out like a sack of rubbish. I hit the cold, muddy ground hard. Pain shot through me. I let out a groan.

That’s when I realized I could make a sound! And I knew, suddenly, I had to see. Even if my eyelids felt like they were nailed shut, I forced them open.

The sky above was a dirty grey, a thick fog or smog hiding the sun. Typical London, I’d guess. Standing over me was a brute of a man, bald, with a fierce, ragged beard. He was wearing a torn, open shirt – more like a rag, really – and his skin was covered in old scars.

Behind him, a few kids, boys and girls, were huddled together. They looked pale and thin as rakes, their clothes just tatters. They stared at the big man with pure fear in their eyes, scared to even look him in the face.

Behind them were tall, grimy buildings – definitely not from back home. Looked like old Western-style houses, maybe from the last century or so. I couldn’t place the exact style, but the whole place stank of poverty and rot.

The place he’d tossed me from looked like a shanty, just bits of tin and wood thrown together. I’d probably been lying on a pile of straw inside. Behind it was a load of old junk. Maybe this fella was a rag-and-bone man?

Then, whoosh! A flood of memories, not mine, hit me. All about this MacDuff bloke. A right villain, he was. Ruled this patch with his gang of young ruffians and orphans, trained them up as pickpockets and thieves just to get by.

I was stunned. I’d never clapped eyes on this MacDuff before, so how did I know all this? Then another jumble of memories poured in. I was one of his orphans. Not a thief, though. A beggar. Sent out to look pathetic and tug at people’s heartstrings because I was a girl.

Hold on a minute! What was this rubbish? I was a bloke! A man! What’s all this about being a pathetic little girl begging on the streets? This was seriously messed up.

That's when the real horror hit me, and I finally looked down at myself. I was wearing a single, filthy rag. Not even proper clothes. Just a piece of dark, grimy cloth. My arms and legs, where they poked out, were covered in muck.

And these arms and legs… they were stick-thin. Starved, no doubt. And small. Definitely a girl’s. A young girl’s.

Back in my old life, before I got sick, I was a healthy lad. Played sports. Strong arms, strong legs. Not these… these delicate little things.

I tried to move them. Yep, they were mine now. This body was incredibly thin and dirty, but I could still see it was a girl’s shape. Anyone looking at me now would feel sorry for this poor, wretched creature.

And then my hair. Long hair, dark at the roots, fading to a sort of gold, falling past my shoulders. When he’d thrown me, it had spread all over the dirt. I didn’t need a looking-glass to know I looked like something out of a sob story.

What in blazes was going on?! I was dead! So why was I here, in this strange place, as a girl? This had to be some kind of sick joke!

But I didn’t have time to puzzle it out. MacDuff, the brute, stomped over to me again. He gave me a savage kick in the ribs. “Oi, you lot!” he roared. “Get her out of the way! Don’t want her blocking the door, do we!”

Agony! This tiny girl’s body wasn’t built for kicks from a brute like him. But, funny thing was, it didn’t hurt as much as I expected. The pain from my old sickness, that mind-splitting torture after I died… that was a whole other level of awful.

So this kick? I could actually take it. Just a little whimper escaped me, not a real scream. I was almost surprised I wasn't blubbering.

MacDuff was yelling at the other urchins cowering behind him. But none of them moved a muscle. A lot of them were looking at me with pity in their eyes.

Ah, that’s right. I knew them. More of those strange memories. They were like me – foundlings, taken in by MacDuff. He’d taught them to beg or steal. We’d grown up together, through thick and thin. No way would any of them willingly chuck me out.

“Don’t do it, Guv’nor! Don’t turn Parula out!” one of the lads suddenly shouted, stepping forward. He was pleading for me. “She’s terrible sick, an’ ain’t had a bite to eat! She’ll peg it out there on her own!”

He was a youngster with fair, curly hair and bright green eyes. If he wasn't so thin and grimy, he'd be a handsome enough lad. He stood a bit taller than the others, and his clothes were a cut above ours. Most of us just had rags, but he had proper trousers and a shirt, even if they were old.

Parula. That name he called me. Was that my name now? Another flash of memory told me yes. That was what this MacDuff brute had called me.

And I remembered the brave lad’s name too – Jared. Another name MacDuff had just plucked out of thin air. He was the top dog among us kids, the best thief MacDuff had.