A/N: Slumdog Millionaire does not belong to me. It was such an amazing movie, I wondered what all Latika went through, so I made my own story of her trials and tribulations, and of course her love for Jamal. Hope you guys enjoy it!

I ran through the narrow passages of our slum, crying hysterically. Why were these people doing this to us? What did we ever do to them? I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that these men were doing these terrible things. I found a little corner, and stood there, watching in terror.

"Latika! Latika," I heard my mother cry. I looked down the alleyway and saw my mother, holding out her hand. I began walking towards her, and then stopped.

"Latika, come on! We don't have time for your games!"

I pointed behind her, trying to tell her about the man approaching with a mallet. Nothing came out, though. Not even the tiniest whimper.

"Mama," I cried out, pointing to the man behind her. I shut my eyes, and covered my ears, but I could still hear the whack of the mallet hitting her head. I screamed and opened my eyes, and I watched her body fall to the ground, blood pouring from her head.

The man walked slowly towards me, with an evil look in his dark, cold brown eyes. I took off, looking for a safe place to hide. Screams filled the air of our normally peaceful slum. Houses were being set on fire, smoke began filling the air, and men chased after whomever they saw. Men, women, children. It didn't matter to these men.

I found a tiny spot of my own, scared out of my wits. Two little boys passed by me, terror radiating from their bodies. The second one paused, and did a double take. I looked into his eyes, and felt something pull me towards him. Like, some imaginary string kept tugging at me to go his way. I took a step forward, and saw something light up in his warm brown eyes.

"Come with us," the younger yelled, waving his hand. I looked around nervously, scared to move.

"It's okay," he said, taking a step towards me. "We'll make it out of here. I promise."

I nodded and ran behind them, leaving the chaotic slum behind. I stopped when we reached the street, and looked back. Screams could still be heard, the sound of fire crackling filled the air. I looked down, tears in my eyes. How could this have happened? What had we done to deserve this? Why weren't the police doing anything?

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be ok. Don't worry," I heard the little boy whisper into my ear.

"Jamal-leave her! Come, let's go," what I assumed was his brother yelled.

The little boy squeezed my shoulder gently, sending chills up my spine. "Good-bye," he whispered into my ear before he turned, and joined his brother.

I turned, and stared at the two figures, watching them walk away from me, just like everybody else. Silently, I trailed behind them, wanting to be accepted. My mother was all I had had left in this world and now that she was gone, I was all alone. My mind went crazy, thinking of how the three of us could be the three musketeers, and travel across India. We could have the most amazing adventures, and never loose anybody else. Maybe, even possibly, we could be a little family.


I looked up, cursing the rainy season. Oh great, I thought. A storm.

Water poured down from the sky, drenching the two little boys and myself. The water stung my skin, as the wind made it colder. I watched in envy as the little boys found a covered place.

"Eh-go away!" The older one cried over the storm. "We don't want you here!"

I stood, hurt by his words. I kicked some pebbles, waiting to be allowed in. The rain pounded down harder, feeling like little bees stinging me over all over my body.

"Hey, come here!" I heard a few minutes later.

I looked up, surprised. "Come on! Come here," the little boy called from the dry area.

I ran over, appreciating his kindness. I sunk down against the wall, sleepiness finally washing over my body. My eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, and it drained the rest of my energy to keep them open.

"I'm Jamal," he whispered. "What's your name?"

I looked at him, feeling something stir deep within my body. Something I had never felt before. It wasn't a bad feeling. Rather pleasant, actually. I shook my head, dismissing it. Feelings meant nothing to a slumdog. Your life depended on your cleverness and tricks.

"I'm Latika," I whispered back. I looked at the ground, feeling the same thing swirl within my stomach for the third time. "Thank you," I said, a bit louder.

"No problem," I heard him whisper. I slowly lowered my upper body to the ground, and closed my eyes. "Sweet dreams, Latika," I heard his faint whisper.

"Mama!" I yelled. "Mama! Mama! Mama! Come back, Mama," I yelled, watching the man hit her over and over again in my mind. Each time was worse than the last. More blood spilled out. The mallet became bigger. The man was scarier.

I felt the man's eyes scan my body. I watched his black hair blow in the wind; watched him step over my mother's body, creeping towards me.

"Latika! Latika, wake up!" I felt somebody shaking me.

I opened my eyes to find Jamal standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder.

"It was just a dream. It was only a dream."

I nodded, not wanting to argue. He moved his arm, about to move back. "No," I whispered. "Please stay."

He nodded, sending some water flying from his jet-black hair. I smiled and moved over, making room for him. Jamal scooted behind me, and put his hand on my hand.

"I promise everything will be alright. I promise,' he whispered.

He squeezed my hand, sending electric shocks through my hand, up my arm, through my chest, and finally into my stomach, fueling that feeling again. I smiled, liking this sensation. I could get used to this, I thought. I like how my hand fit into his. Like they were puzzle pieces, and they were meant to fit together like that.

"Does this promise last for forever," I questioned him, just wanting to talk to him.

"Of course it does. My promises last a lifetime."

With that, I fell asleep, no dreams of my mother, or that man. No, my dreams were of Jamal. My dreams showed us together, forever, living in a house, with a family. Two little boys and a little girl. Most importantly, though, we were happy.