11/27/2025
They were just two little girls, no older than seven and nine, but they had learned the harsh lessons of the world long before their small bodies should have known such things. Their names were Maddy and Emma, but those who saw them didn’t see names. They saw ragged clothes, dirt-smeared faces, and eyes too wise for their years. The kind of eyes that spoke of hunger, of a life lived on the margins, of a childhood lost too soon.
Maddy was the older one, by just two years, but she was the one who always took the lead. She had learned early how to put on a smile that was just sweet enough to make people feel sorry for her, just innocent enough to get them to trust her. Emma, with her quieter demeanor, followed her sister wherever she went. She didn’t ask questions; she simply did what Maddy said, because Maddy was the one who always knew what to do.
They spent their days roaming from house to house, from saloon to shop, looking for work—just cleaning, sometimes dusting shelves or mopping floors—anything to earn a few coins, or at least some scraps of food. The people who hired them rarely looked past their dirt-streaked faces, rarely noticed the thinness of their arms or the way their clothes hung off their small bodies like old sacks. They didn’t see the desperation in their eyes, the way they scanned every room they entered, always looking for something—anything—that might give them a chance to escape the gnawing hunger and cold that followed them like shadows.
But the work didn’t last long. No one wanted to hire two scruffy, dirty little girls. And when they were turned away, or when the work was finished, that’s when the real business began.
Maddy would scan the room for anything that might be worth something: a shiny brooch left on a dresser, a coin purse carelessly forgotten on a table, a handful of food that had been left out too long. Emma, with her quieter ways, would stay by the door, watching for anyone coming. She didn’t like the stealing, but Maddy was insistent—this was the only way they could survive.
“We take what we need, Em. They won’t miss it. They have so much,” Maddy would say, her voice soft but firm. “We’re just borrowing, for a little while.”
And Emma, who had never known anything else, would nod and follow her sister’s lead.
They were quick—so quick that no one ever saw them slip away. A pinched coin here, a loaf of bread there. Maddy had learned to lift things when no one was looking, slipping them into her pockets or hidden in the folds of her worn dress. Sometimes they’d make off with a few silver coins, sometimes a handful of sweets, sometimes a fine piece of jewelry that glittered in the dim light of the rooms they cleaned.
But there was always a risk. It wasn’t long before the people they had worked for started to notice that things were missing. Small things at first, things that could be easily overlooked, but soon it wasn’t just small things. A pocket watch. A fine lace handkerchief. The kind of things people noticed when they were gone.
One afternoon, after finishing their work at a saloon in town, Maddy and Emma were walking back down the narrow street, their pockets full of what they’d stolen—shiny buttons, some leftover bread, and a gold necklace they had found in the owner’s bedroom. They were smiling to themselves, heads low, careful not to draw attention.
But as they turned the corner, they ran into something unexpected.
A woman—her face flushed with anger—stood in front of them. She was holding up the gold necklace they had taken from her house.
“You little thieves!” she shouted, her voice sharp as a whip. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?”
Maddy froze, her heart racing. She hadn’t expected to be caught. She hadn’t expected anyone to come looking. Her eyes darted to Emma, who was already stepping back, her small hands trembling. Maddy’s mind raced—what should they do?
The woman stepped closer, her hands tightening around the necklace. “Give it back, right now. Or I’ll—”
Maddy grabbed Emma’s hand, pulling her hard, running as fast as her legs could carry her. They darted down the alley, the woman’s shouting growing fainter behind them. The streets blurred in their vision as they raced through the town, dodging carts, slipping through cracks in fences, and ducking into shadows whenever someone came too close. They couldn’t get caught—not now.
They ran for what felt like hours, their breath ragged in their chests, their hearts pounding with the fear of being caught, of being taken back to the place they came from, the orphanage where they had no name, no family, and no future.
Finally, they stopped, panting, in a dark alley behind a market. Maddy looked around, her chest heaving, then she pulled Emma close, her voice soft but urgent.
“We have to leave. We can’t stay here. Not anymore. They’ll be looking for us.”
Emma nodded, her wide eyes filled with tears. She was scared, so scared, but she trusted her sister. Maddy was the one who had always known what to do, who always knew how to keep them safe.
And so, they ran. Not to another house, not to another job. They ran, not knowing where they were going or what would happen next, but knowing one thing for certain:
They couldn’t go back.
They had learned early that life didn’t care about them. The world was a cold, unforgiving place, and they were just two little girls with nothing but their wits and each other. And as they disappeared into the night, the city behind them faded, and a new life began—one where survival was their only goal, and stealing was the price of freedom.
