(( before we begin you should know, her name is pronounced I-tra))
Itra was only 1 month old when her misery began...............
A old banged up car steadily creeped down and old dark ally way. It came to a stop at the mouth of a dead end and a tall; women stepped out.She was tall but her face was hidden and she was completely bundled up in old dark colored clothing.
The dead end the car had stopped at had one small street lite but no windows looked down upon the spot. Hundreds of boxes lay piled up at the back end and a abandoned dumpster stood against the right wall.
No doors opened into this place not even on the ally on which it stood on. It was a perfect place to dispose of something or hide it. the women turned to what appeared to be a man driving the car. She spoke so low that her words could barley be heard. She said only one sentence, in this hushed tone.
"It's perfect...."
Perfect for what you ask? No one would ever truly know.... The women walked to the back of the car her heels clicking on the stones under her feet. She then reached into the car and pulled out a small package which she hurriedly and carefully lay inside the dumpster.
After the car had pulled away............ a small cry came from the dumpster. The cry was that of a baby.....
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Itra's Walk Journal.
I walk around, think about things, then write them down here!
ItraSeras
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