Many people benefit from what they have, though it may not be what they expected. Sometimes, what one acquires can be used to adorn oneself and conceal a wound. The wound that would ruin its bearer into poverty is no small wound. "Xnooooooooo!" is the name a group of deaf-mute youth like her call her. She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling of her room. "Oh my God! I didn't live like Cinderella, nor did I live like some Barbie Queen, but today I ended up in the camp of the destitute." She bit her lips as she opened her window. "Is some little breeze calling me a beggar? I swear by your father, if I come out, you all better scatter before I do!" "May God rot your heart, Daughter of a Scorpion!" She squinted her eyes, closed her window, and headed for the path leading inside the house. Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Zenobia! Please open the door!" "Didn't your father say yesterday that he shouldn't see you and me together?" she said loudly. "Hmph... I brought you food!" "It's not food, it's the father of food." She walked past her drawer, picked up her toothpaste and brush. The house was a large rented one, and the kind that had numerous rooms, including an upstairs. She lived on the third floor. She came out with a towel tied around her head, because God had blessed her with hair. Slowly, her eyes fell on her roommate. "Xno, I'm waiting for you," she said, carrying her head as she walked away. She (Xno) then entered her room and began to get ready. Downstairs was like a market of diverse tribes from every corner of the *Gista* nation. From the second floor, people started noticing them. "The Daughter of the Scorpion is coming!" they began to disperse. She herself was like a lioness; she never agreed to associate with others. Two elderly women entered the bathroom area to wash and apply bleaching cream and antiseptic. Then they stood outside the bathroom, waiting for her to arrive. The answer to her bucket was that some young girls poured hot water on her, scrubbed her, and then walked past her outside the bathroom. She entered the bathroom area, looking at her (Inna). "Inna, you wrote what wasn't in this house until recently." "It's finished, blessed girl," she replied, turning away. Today, it was time for her to start work, but she didn't feel like working. However, Alfarman and Mr. Amjad had done enough for her to understand that her life was about to change. She smiled, looking at herself. Last year, she finished secondary school. After finishing, she entered college, and last year she also got the chance to do a diploma in Business Studies. Then Inna had also encouraged her, saying it was to avoid being married off early. Nevertheless, that didn't stop you from understanding how she was excelling in English. Indeed, Zenobia was the one to first be given an Award, which is why she finished focusing her mind on her desk. Many people outside feared her terror, but inside the house, she followed people meekly. Because they were her, they were her life. Just as she wouldn't wish to offend them even for a single day, she also valued them. That's why even death, she wouldn't wish it to take her away before their eyes. She started bathing and began to hear people's voices. She couldn't rush; she had to finish first and then come out. She looked at a certain young man; his face was bruised and bloody, a sign he had been beaten all over. “Abbas, is some bastard bothering you?”