I have been on the streets for as long as I can remember, though it wasn't always this way. When I was young I was born of a merchantman (John) and his wife (Christine) in Providence, but after my father gambled his fortune away he committed suicide by hanging, leave my mother and I on the streets when I was but the age of 8. Not long after, when I was 11, Mother suffered from TB and passed away. I lived as an urchin since then, begging for any food and coin I can get. From the time my father died, I've never had the luxury of a consistent roof over my head, a regular bath, and the knowledge I will eat everyday. I have few friends, but the few I have had turned into criminals, which I cannot follow. It's better to live on the street than rot in a cell. I shouldn't follow in their footsteps, but in Providence, where all the elites are, it's hard to have hope to get out of this situation through the correct methods.
