"Listen, listen everyone! Look at our newest attraction, you lot!"

A petite man, dressed in rather expensive clothing which made his round belly stand out even more, stood on the wooden outdoor stage, grinning widely at the audience at his feet. He twirled his mustache between his fingers in excitement, a sign of greed flashing in his eyes upon the cheering crowd of people who were gathering right in front of his eyes.

"I guarantee you, dear citizens, you have never seen such a laughingstock at any other fair before!"

Swiftly, he stepped aside to reveal a young boy, approximately eleven years old, dressed in funny, colorful clothing resembling those of a clown. Even when he moved just a little, the bells on his cap clinked.

The lad held his gaze down in shame, hiding his face from the piercing eyes of the audience. Nervously, he played with his fingers. His feet hurt being stuck in those small shoes and the tight clothing rubbed uncomfortably against his skin.

He hated it. He hated being ridiculed. And who he hated even more was himself.

I must endure it, he repeatedly and quietly thought to himself, suppressing his feelings of frustration, anger and fear. The boy gulped. Doing this meant to survive.

To at least have something to eat in order not to starve, so he would not have to result in stealing. To at least have something to drink in order to appease his thirst, throbbing in his throat. As much as he despised the man that had put him in this misery, those were the essentials he sometimes offered him when his mood allowed it. A place to sleep however? No, the muddy, dirty streets were kind enough to provide it to him.

Even if it meant being humiliated, he had to do it. For him, who clung to life, it meant not dying. He had to take care of himself. There was no one who could, no, would support him. No parents, no family, no friends.

"Nobody loves you. You are unwanted. Be grateful that I took you in.", he had been told by the man who explained to him that he was abandoned as an infant. According to him, his life had no other purpose than being shunned and looked down upon.

The lad was all alone in this cruel and cold world.

Booing ensued, disrupting his thoughts. He pulled his dunce cap even further down out of embarrassment when he heard a citizen scream in disappointment:

"How boring. Show us his face! We want to laugh!"

As soon as this request fell, multiple people seemed to agree and started chanting in rhythm instead of booing. Humiliating another human being brought them joy and made them cheer.

The director of the circus shot a quick, mischievous glance at the boy. Then, he bowed slightly, one hand pressed against his chest, happily obliging the crowd's wishes to gain their approval.

"As you wish."

Certainly, the man must not have felt any guilt when he knocked the boy's cap off his head in a single, quick movement. Immediately, upon seeing the lad's face, the crowd burst out in hysteric laughter. Some even laughed so hard that tears began to run down their cheeks.

"Wow, he really is ugly!", the first man screamed. Another added: "Ew, such a monstrosity! Avert your eyes, everyone, maybe it's infectious!" A woman sneered, partially disgusted as well as amused: "No wonder he was probably abandoned. Who would want to take care of such a hideous child?" Someone in the crowd added: "It's the punishment of the gods!"

Finally, the young lad looked up, tears swelling in his eyes because of the mean comments, fully revealing his distorted facial features. His face was not symmetrical, one of his small eyes sagged lower than the other, his thick hook nose stood out and the corner of his mouth faced downward, as if he was always looking dissatisfied. Scars from abuse and maltreatment covered him from head to toe. His ear had been cut once, so it took the shape of a cauliflower. As long as he could remember, he had been physically disabled. Because of his appearance, people automatically assumed he was dumb, even though his disability did not affect his mind. If it were not for his disability, he would have been like any other normal child. Nevertheless, people tended to avoid him.

It hurts, they boy thought, It hurts. When does it end?

As he stood on stage, suffering quietly, in the crowd he spotted a hooded person, neither laughing nor pointing fingers at him. Due to the distance, the boy could not see their eyes, but this person just stood there calmly, pondering. Maybe there was at least one person who pitied him?

"Dance for us, you monster!", the crowd demanded, already grabbing tomatoes from a nearby cart which had been prepared especially for this occasion. Before the lad could even react, a hard object hit his face. The impact left him to grunt in pain while it made the audience cheer. A red, slimy substance slid down his face, the sharp smell lingering in his nose. Someone had thrown a rotten tomato right at his face.

When the boy wiped the slime, mixed with his tears, away with his sleeve, he was no longer able to see the hooded figure. They must have left. Disappointed and hopeless, the boy sighed and began to dance when he noticed the demanding gaze of the director.

He swayed from one foot to another, trying to maintain balance while dancing as if he was a complete fool. The crowd happily continued throwing rotten tomatoes at him and every time one of them hit, people exchanged high- fives, laughter and cheers. The event lasted until there were no longer tomatoes left. At that point, the youngling had no more tears left to cry.

Satisfied, the director bowed and thanked the audience for their participation. His purse was filled to the brim with coins.

One after another, the audience slowly disbanded. At the end of the day, the lad was wholly covered with rotten tomatoes from head to toe, the awful stench burning in his nose. He limped towards the director who eyed him with disgust from the side – something the boy was accustomed to.

"What do you want?" the director snarled.

Without saying anything, the lad's eyes went from the director to his purse filled with coin.

At least some coin is enough, he pleaded in his mind, I don't want my suffering to be in vain.

He knew that demanding any more would prove to be futile. It would only earn him a few hard punches.

Impatiently, the man rolled his eyes at him. He grabbed a coin out of his purse, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, before he tossed it to the ground with a smug look. "There is your payment," he grunted coldly, "Now get out of my sight. We have another show tomorrow. Until then I don't want to be seen near you."

Fury burned within the lad. He despised this man and the way he treated him. If only he was stronger and taller he could fight back. However, before the boy could say anything, the man turned his back to him and entered the next tavern he had set his sight on – probably to indulge in alcoholic beverages with the coins he had just earned. The lad's shoulders dropped and his anger as quickly subsided as it came. No matter what he would tell himself, he was powerless. Unwillingly, he bent over to lift the coin off the ground, wiping the dirt away with his sleeve.

One coin, he pondered dissatisfied, All this. For one coin.

Still, it was better than nothing. He shrugged his shoulders and tucked the coin in his shoe, hence he did not possess a purse.

One look at the reddish sky signaled that dusk was about to settle in as the sun set down. People were already on their way to their homes to eat dinner and prepare for nighttime. Slow but steady, less folks roamed the narrow streets and the boy concluded that it was time to search a safe place in an alley in order to sleep. Shakily, he dragged his skinny and weak self into a narrow path which did not seem to lively. As his nose recognized the delicious smell of food coming out of one of the houses located on his side, his stomach grumbled. However, today was not a day he could eat: He could only spend his coin on food if he was on the brink of starving.

Instead, he decided to sleep his hunger away as he laid himself down against a wall in the muddy alleyway. He prayed that the people in this town would let him sleep tonight in peace. There have been many incidents where, in the middle of the night, he had to change locations because some townsfolk had decided to disrupt his slumber to harass him with either kicking or insulting – the former mostly being the case.

The chilly autumn wind sent a shiver down his spine. His thin clothing did not protect him from the breeze and soon when winter would come, it would surely also not spare him from illness, that much was for sure. In order to make up for the missing blanket he was very much in need of, the boy tried to keep himself warm through wrapping his arms around his knees. His thin bones already began to ache from the cold and the stench of rotten tomatoes caused him further discomfort. The lad's thoughts drifted off into questioning everything.

What was the purpose of his life? He was neither wanted nor loved. On the contrary, he had been abandoned by probably the only people who could have accepted him – his parents. It seemed that his physical disability deemed him to be worthless, to not even be accepted or loved as a human being except nothing else but an "ugly monster".

Just when the youngling was about to doze off, there appeared a slim silhouette in front of him. Please, he begged quietly in his mind, Just let me sleep.

Eyes now wide open, fear settled in and when his sight cleared up, he found himself staring at a cloaked figure, approximately just one head taller than him. Slowly, the person knelt down to meet the boy, who now pressed himself against the cold wall behind him in a panic, at the same height.

"Shh, don't worry. I won't do you any harm."

It was a female, soft voice who spoke to him in a soothing tone. Upon further inspecting he silhouette, the lad recognized her to be the cloaked figure in the distance from the fair. She was built rather slim and small in height, her cloak covered mostly her head and shoulders and a few of her red, curly strands of hair could be seen if you looked closely enough. However, she had covered her face wholly except for her light green eyes which examined him free of any prejudice or disgust. Within those, the boy believed to see an emotion he knew existed but never quite encountered before: pity. Yet, he could not trust her.

The woman must have noticed the distrust in the youngling's eyes as she was careful not to make any hasty movements. Slowly, she reached to the side of her hip with her left hand.

"I've seen what they did to you on that stage..." she muttered quietly as she pulled out a tiny piece of cloth, a metal flask filled with water as well as a few green herbs from the bag at her waist, "People can be cruel sometimes, can't they?"

She wet the piece of cloth with the water of her flask. Carefully, she moved her hand with the cloth towards his tomato smudged face to wipe the dirt off his cheek but the boy immediately flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, as if he had anticipated be hit by her. It caused her to stop her attempt.

"You poor boy. They have done terrible things to you," she whispered as she realized. Once again, she tried to touch his cheek but the lad shoved her hand away.

"Don't touch me!" he demanded with ragged breathing and teary eyes. He was afraid. Her kindness could not be real. Who would even want to touch him, a monster? There hat to be an ulterior motive. The mysterious woman withdrew her hand and instead held out her flask with water in front of him.

"You look pale. Drink this." In the same breath, she took a sip of the water herself as if to assure him that it was not poisoned. "See? Just water," she confirmed with what must have been a soft smile under her cover as she offered him again the flask. After seeing her drink it herself, the lad was less suspicious of her. It had to be okay. After all, she would definitely not drink it herself if it was poisoned, right?

Thirst throbbed in his throat. How long had it been since he had something to drink? Two days? He licked his dry lips, pondering if he should take the offer. For a few moments, he hesitated but soon gave in to the temptation, taking several big sips. It was indeed water. And it was cold, making every gulp more refreshing. Out of the corner of his mouth, some of it even threatened to spill because of his hasty movements. However, the woman did not seem to mind, instead she seemed to understand. As soon as he was done, he handed her the flask back while he wiped his lips clean with his sleeve.

"Thank y-" just when the lad wanted to show his gratitude, his stomach grumbled painfully. Hunger, he thought, while he looked at the woman in embarrassment. Secretly, as much as he disliked to admit it, he had hoped that she would also offer him something to eat.

"Ah, you must be hungry," she concluded, clasping her hands together while she burrowed through the bag at her waist, "Unfortunately, I don't really have something to eat except medicinal herbs..."

A cool breeze passed by and caused the boy to shiver uncontrollably.

I hate autumn, the boy cursed quietly, his anger visible in his eyes.

The woman chuckled a little. Pensively, she rubbed the cloth of her cloak in between her fingers as if she was thinking about giving the cloak to him. She hesitated. Her unsure gaze went from her cloak to the boy, again and again. She eyed the side of the streets warily. Whatever her reason, she decided against handing him her cloak.

"Well, but I suppose herbs will also do. Here, chew these. They'll warm you up in no time."

She touched his wrist and put a few green, fresh leaves in the palm of his hand. Carefully, he smelled the herbs. The only thing he could smell, though, was the stench of the rotten tomatoes still clinging onto him.

Well, the water wasn't dangerous, he thought, So I might as well at least eat them.

As soon as he took a bite, his mouth tingled comfortably. The medicinal herbs were slightly spicy and the more he chewed, the more the spice seemed to be replaced by sweetness. In an instant, he could feel how warmth spread in his stomach. It spread further into his limbs, his arms and feet to his fingers and toes. He wondered how the woman was in possession of such rare herbs. Did she possibly buy them herself? Her clothing, however, did not suggest that she was part of a rich family. It rather seemed that she was like the boy, on the poorer side, considering the cloak was the only piece that had no holes.

The woman placed a hand on her chest. A sigh of relief ensued as she spoke:

"I'm glad you're already feeling a little bit better. When I saw you all alone in this alley, trying to sleep in the street, I was kind of worried ...". She paused and gave him a curious look, her eyes sparkling like an emerald as she inquired: "What's your name?"

"I don't have one," he answered, still chewing on the herbs. Alas, they would not count as a full meal, but nevertheless, the lad was grateful. In realization, he lifted his head.

Did she already gain my trust by providing me with water and herbs? he realized, perplexed. Quickly, he shoved that thought aside. He decided that was still not enough. She could still be hiding something from him. His life on the streets had taught him that no one was to be trusted – no matter how nice they seemed to be.

"Oh," the red – haired woman blinked a few times, "But people must call you at least something? You can't be truly nameless."

"They do. They call me 'monstrosity' because of my ugly, deformed face."

Silence.

"I don't like that name, though," he added, gulping the rest of the herbs down. He could tell that he had left the lady speechless. "Why are you helping me?" he asked, his voice but a whisper.

A while the lady did not speak, because she was lost in thought. Her eyes had a touch of sadness in them and her gaze seemed so far away as if she was looking at a different place in a different time, even though she looked him directly in the eyes.

"It's because I know what it means to be shunned by others. I can kind of see my younger self in you," she stated calmly.

Her response left the youngling agitated. How could she possibly understand? She had probably never been abandoned at birth. She had no deformed face which made people shudder in disgust upon looking at her. Nobody ever beat her up just because of her appearance. He was a laughingstock to others. She never ever could even fathom how much he hated himself, how much he wished that he was never born into this godforsaken world. Furiously, he rose to his feet.

"How can you understand? We're not alike in the slightest. We have nothing in common!" he burst out in range, tears swelling up in his eyes, his clenched fists trembling "You're just like the others, mocking me for your own enjoyment. Don't pretend to care!" As he stood there, his shoulders dropped, bearing the incredible weight of his lashing emotions, he began to weep in agony. He felt her hand on his shoulder and he looked up, his vision blurry through the tears.

"I think we both are more alike than you think," the woman spoke.

Cautiously, she looked from side to side as if making sure nobody was present. Then, she hesitantly began to unravel the cloak that had covered most of her face. As she put the cloth down, the lad gasped in surprise once she revealed it. Her light green eyes no longer stood out compared to the burn marks around her forehead and chin area around the mouth, further facing down her throat and possibly covering more parts of her body. The pale lips were scarred and chapped. Her shoulder – length curls looked as if they also had been burned by flames which explained them losing their thickness.

Now, it doomed on the boy and he immediately stopped crying. Somebody had tried to burn this kind lady, resulting in deforming her once what a boy imagined to be beautiful face.

Why? he thought, Why would someone ever try to hurt this woman in such a cruel way?

Another realization hit the boy. Herbs. Red hair. Healing. Wide eyed, he looked at the lady in disbelief.

"I can tell what you are thinking. You are wrong," she pouted, not quite being able to suppress her weak smile, "I am no witch, dear boy, I can assure you. My only fault was trying to help someone in need with my medical knowledge. For that, they wished for me to burn."

The lady also arose to her feet, resting both of her hands on her hips.

"I told you we are more alike than you think." She pulled out the wet piece of cloth from before. Carefully, she wiped the lad's face clean. Her hands were warm as she cleaned his face, ran her fingers through his hair and kindness glowed in her eyes. There was no sign of disgust. Once again, the youngling began to cry. This time however, his tears were silent. Finally, he had been understood. He met someone who experienced similar hardships.

Without him realizing, he embraced the lady and held on to her tight. She reciprocated the embrace, surrounding him with her warmth. The boy wondered that if he had been blessed with a supporting, loving mother, would it have felt like this? Could this feeling be described as love?

"You are not alone," the lady whispered with a shaky voice, "Come with me. Leave this place. Start anew. Start a life, far away from all this pain."

The lad loosened his grip around her. He lifted his gaze and nodded quietly in agreement. This was his chance to escape this hellish life of humiliation and poverty.

"I haven't even introduced myself yet, have I?" the lady noticed and flashed him a soft smile, "My name is Jeanne." She paused shortly. "We'll also have to decide a name for you. A real human name. Pick one."

He only shook his head. It would be better if she gave him a name, rather than he naming himself. "I don't really know which name suits me."

Jeanne tilted her head. She began to put her cloak on again, so they would not attract the townsfolk's attention. As she inspected the boy, he could tell that she was thinking hard which name to choose from. After pondering for a little, she came to a conclusion.

"Your name will be Vic." She ruffled his hair gently, tucking a strand of it behind his ear. "Like in victorious. From now on, life will get better for you."

In awe of his new name, Vic nodded happily. Together, they left the village hand in hand. At the gate, he looked back one more time.

Too bad for the people that tomorrow there will be no one to laugh at any more, he thought with a bitter grin resting on his lips.

Vic turned his back and tread alongside Jeanne into a new life, the coin in his shoe clinking with every step he took.