20 Years Ago

"Hey kid!"

My ears twitched upon the voice that called to me from the window ledge. His words were tossed along with the rustle of tree leaves and the muffled whistle of singing crickets. My eyelids unfurl, shriveled and rigid from the flaring sun rays gnawing at my vision.

"Coming August." I said getting to my knees and cracking open the window.

A lanky, sapphire eyed, boy awaited me on the drought stricken road just two stories down. The wind gently teased through his golden hair, untangling a few knots caught between the soft strands. There was a small scar nicked onto his pale skin just below his lip, it hid a story within it that he had yet to tell me.

"You gotta get up soon or we'll fall behind on field work." He said shooting me a smile, in which I responded with a nod. I clambered off my rough sheets and made my way to my vanity. It sat, dusty and rusted in the corner of my room, housing a small tan dress in its top drawer and a wooden comb in its bottom. I retrieved the torn dress and slipped it over my scrawny limbs before briskly raking the knots out of my jet black hair. The strands hung like wires rooted to my scalp, each one bleached dry from the sun. I always chopped off the locks when they grew passed my ears, leaving them uneven and frayed at the ends. But looks were invaluable in my household, all you needed was a strong back and steady arms.

I was greeted with a forlorn silence when I reached the bottom of the stairs. The gentle melody of rustling leaves crept in through the cracks in the wall. Though we grew wheat, the air piquantly smelled like tea leaves and herbs. I didn't hiesitate to bolt out the front door towards the shifting golden fields where August still stood, patient and unmoving.

"Morning kid." He said brushing his fingers through my hair. I stood on my toes in a futile attempt to challenge his height, drawing a silent chuckle from him.

"Ten years old and your head still barely touches my hip. You really are a little shorty aren't you?"

I brushed off his comment and ruffled my hair back in place. "Am I harvesting today?" He nodded and gestured for me to follow. I strolled down the soil road beside him before halting next to the wheat fields and scaling the wooden fence, my feet drawing up clumps of shale as I plunged to the ground. A small wooden shed was situated on the opposite side of the field, it harbored a large assortment of tools all mottled and decrepit from endless days in the sun.

"We could really use a new sickle." I glided my finger across the rusty flat of the blade. Just the simple gesture was enough to send chips of metal billowing to the floor, a strange fluid oozed from the nicks and onto my finger.

"Vile." I muttered hauling it out the door.

"Need a little help?" I glanced in the direction of the voice, it trailed to a rangy woman with speckled golden eyes, in a dress that fell to her ankles. She towered above me, nearly twice my height, with ginger hair that fell to her waist. Despite being older than me, she looked astronomically more at peace, well rested, far more...... alive than I could ever be.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you ma'am." I said slinging the object over my shoulder, "What's your name?" Her auburn eyes crinkled near the edges as she smiled.

"I'm Elizabeth. Your mother hired me last night." She said, her response made my stomach lurch a little. My mother was here last night, and she didn't bother to alert me. I violently shake off my disappointment and meet the woman's gaze.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Elizabeth. Do you work the fields too?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't have the strength for those tasks," I stared at her, slightly perplexed. It never occurred to me that someone grown wouldn't have the ability to do the same jobs that I could. I was merely a child after all. Elizabeth squirmed under my gaze,

"I'll be doing the housework and money management instead," she continued, as if in an attempt to end the thick silence. I nodded, skirting past her, already hoping to find August and recount the painfully awkward encounter for him.

"Then you best get started, the house is that way," I point her towards the east end of the property and take off in the opposite direction.

******

The sun was particularly harsh that day. Not enough for my skin to blister, but enough for me to grow faint and wear out faster than usual. I refuse to let it hinder me, however, working even harder than usual, almost as if I'd been challenged by the heat. The day progresses, the sun sinks below the horizon and turns the blazing sky a hazy lilac hue. And I tear through half the farm's harvesting and all my chores with realizing it.

"Kid!" I take a moment to turn towards the direction of the voice. Unsurprisingly, August was there waiting with a container of water for me on the opposite side of the fence. I shoot him a smile as he sprints across the field trails towards me,

"Don't run so hard, you'll tire out faster," I tell him. He ignores me and quickens his pace, handing me the water bottle when he arrives. I hadn't realized how dehydrated I had become as the day had progressed until the well water quenched my thirst. I nearly grow dizzy when it hits my throat. August crouches down to meet my eyes and rests his hand on my sticky forehead, his brow furrowing in concern as he feels my scorched skin. His eyes darken, and I wince a little as the familiar look of pity and sorrow taint his bright blue eyes. It wasn't uncommon for August to give me that look, whether intentionally or not. He gave it to me every time I worked in the fields, every time my flesh ripped open from the popped blisters speckling my skin, every time I went to bed after waiting for my mother only to realize yet again that she wasn't coming home.

I never understood why though. It was my choice to work in the fields, it was my obligation to work for my mother, to earn my keep. My mother worked much harder than I did, leaving for days on end to do the capital's bidding. And yet, August only ever gave me that look.

"I'm alright, Auggie," I assure him. He gives me a soft smile in return, standing up and tucking me against his side, one hand on my slim shoulders.

"It's time to go inside, dear," he says, herding me down the path towards the road. My heart stuttered at the thought, and I root my feet to the ground.

"But I'm not done yet!" I cry out, pulling back. Auggie holds firm on my hand, and we begin a grim tug of war on my arm,

"Yes, you are. You finished your assigned share of the work ages ago, it's dark out now, you have to go inside."

"But I can still work! What do you, think I'm weak?" I squirm, "I'm not tired out yet, I-"

"Enough!" We both startle as his voice cracks through the air. His expression quickly falls, and he averts his gaze from mine, and I can tell he instantly regrets yelling. August rarely ever snaps, especially not at me. So it was said; I didn't resist as he guided us both back inside.

Auggie avoids my gaze as we both trudge back down the spiraling path home, but he refuses to relinquish his protective hold on me, to which I'm grateful. It was something he'd done for me for as long as I could remember, tucking me beneath his blazer and hugging me close in a defensive hold. As if he could somehow protect me from all the harm in the world just by hiding me beneath his jacket. I knew it was irrational, but it still comforted me. I wrap my arm around his waist, giving him a soft squeeze,

"Are you okay?" I ask calmly. At last, he allows himself to meet my gaze again, and I can see the guilt in his eyes.

"I'm sorry..... for snapping at you, I mean,"

"No, no, you're right, I should stop now or I'll be too burnt out to work tomorrow," Auggie scoffs,

"I don't care about your chores tomorrow kid, I care about you. You'll work yourself to death at this rate."

"I'd rather die of overworking than die of starvation. We work for money y'know, we can only afford so many workers at once," Auggie gives me the look again, and I keep my eyes trained straight ahead.

To my surprise, instead of the usual silence that greeted us inside, Elizabeth sat in the center of our living room. Papers splayed out on the wooden coffee table in front of her and ink stained her finger tips. Her eyes were still alert, but I could see her posture sagging more than it had before. Had she been working all day?

"Miss Elizabeth?" I begin, "The work day's over, you can go home now if you like," Elizabeth startles at the sound of my voice, almost knocking over the ink pot in her surprise.

"Oh!" She cries out, scrambling to reset it. In her panic, several documents littering the table fall to the ground in a chaotic heap, nearly catching alight against the oil lamp as they flutter to the ground.

"Crap!" Auggie rushes forward to aid her, and I'm left staring as they reset Elizabeth's workspace.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, miss-"

"No no, it's quite alright," Elizabeth gives us a sheepish smile, nodding in thanks as Auggie hands her a stack of papers, "I should probably be stopping now anyways, I don't wanna burn out." Auggie smiles and gives me a pointed look, I roll my eyes in response.

"It's dark outside already. Auggie and I can walk you home if you'd like." Elizabeth's eyes widen in confusion,

"Oh, actually, you're mother instructed that I stay in one of the rooms here for my employment," she stands, anxiously fiddling with the patchwork on her skirt. It was as if she were worried she were intruding on something just by stating the terms of her employment. Auggie gives her a reassuring look,

"That's fine, I'll lead you to the servant's quarters. Ms.Collins left a clean change of clothes for you in the dresser, you can wash up then turn in in whichever bed you prefer," Auggie halts in the doorway, glancing back at me over his shoulder, "Get some sleep okay, kid?"

******

I don't even attempt to rest after Auggie and Elizabeth turn in, there was still so much to do. There was a routine I always made myself follow every night before turning in: bathing, laundry, scouring the floors, basic household chores. The worst part used to be washing our clothes after an entire day of work; when my blisters were freshly popped and my skin was raw with splinters. The sting of the detergent used to burn like spitting acid against my scars. But now after so many years, I feel almost nothing when the chemicals seep into the bloody lacerations. Auggie always tries to finish his laundry before I can get to it, but he rarely does. I notice Elizabeth's edition of clothes to our pile as well, and take extra care not to wear down the patchwork she's sewn. I can feel the exhaustion getting to me, it always does around midnight.

The filth from the clothing and the blood on my hands quickly morphs the crystalline water into a violent maroon. I wince as I tip the bucket down the gutter outside.

"Ugh, my hands better not get infected," The rest of my tasks are done without issue, and I find myself stationed at my window by the end of it all, staring down the vast road as I did every night. Every flicker of movement that occurrs down the beaten path makes my heart swell with hope, and it gets increasingly tormenting every time I realize it's not her. I engage in this agonizing and rarely rewarding game every night. So often so that eventually I moved my bed adjacent to the sill, so when I inevitably dozed off, I wouldn't wake up with aches from sleeping in the wooden chairs.

In a fit of boredom, I begin counting the number of times I mistake fireflies for carriage lanterns, and I don't notice the soft creak of the door swing opening as someone enters.

"Jeez, do you ever listen?" Auggie's voice is recognizable to the point where I don't startle at the interruption. I scoot back on the bed to make room for him at the sill and he sits down next to me. He leans against the wooden frame, furthermore tangling his already disheveled mop of hair.

"Last I checked you work for my family, I have no obligation to listen to you," I joke. He give my foot a playful kick.

"Well, you don't have to listen to me, but it doesn't specify in my employment contract that I can't wrangle you into bed myself,"

"You wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't do that. But still," he gives me an exhausted smile, "pretty please can you go to bed." I laugh at his infantile negotiation tactic,

"Just a little longer okay? I don't wanna miss her like I did the first time." Auggie's slumps impossibly further into himself. And I can tell even through the dim lighting that he's giving me the look again.

"Fine, just a few more minutes," he reaches into his left shirt pocket and retrieves a small roll of gauze, "here, I'll bandage your hands while we're waiting." I roll my eyes in exasperated affection, before presenting my split hands to him. He examines them intently, looking for discharge, discoloring, signs of infection, or debris caught beneath my skin. When he's satisfied that I'd washed and sterilized my wounds correctly, he begins wrapping the bandages around my fingers and palm, securing them with tight knots and scraps of tape. I extend my hands in front of myself, admiring his handiwork. The wrapping always looked so much more neat when Auggie did them.

"Okay, times up, bed time, kid," I look up at Auggie, with a mixture of shock and surprise. I had almost completely forgotten that we were waiting for my mother's arrival. I take another long searching look at the fields splaying out beyond my window, before giving in,

"Okay."

"Would you like me to stay with you tonight?"

"No, I'll be fine. If I get night terrors again I'll say," I climbed beneath the thin covers, resting my bandaged hands stiffly over them.  The mattress shifts as Auggie climbs off and walks toward the opposite end of the bed. He swoops down suddenly, laying a peck on my head, like how I always hoped my mother would every time she managed to come home. Auggie's kisses were far different than her's, yet completely the same. They both felt like a quiet send off, a farewell with a promise of tomorrow. But Auggie's was less brief, it lingered somehow, as if he were trying to conjure all the care in the world just to tuck me in.

"Goodnight, kid," he whispered, ruffling my hair,

"Y'know you don't have to tuck me in, hm?" We exchange a warm smile, "I'm ten, I don't need it,"

"You don't need a lot of things in life, kid. That hardly matters, what you want is just as important. It's the little things that give life meaning." I raise an eyebrow at him, I think he can tell I don't completely buy it, but he doesn't continue.

————

It's around two hours shy of dawn when I wake up, which was rare even for me. There was something off about how the atmosphere hung this morning. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something felt completely out of place. I unlatch my windows and crane the entire upper half of my body over the ledge. The wind had a frigid bite to it this morning, one that speckled my skin with goosebumps and caused my teeth to chatter at first. The air smelled potently of dry leaves today which complimented the violet sky brimming with light, a sign that morning was just beyond the horizon. I adored it.

The servants quarters was a compact brick structure that sat two acres north east of my bedroom. Auggie is more often than not, its only inhabitant; we can't afford many other workers, and the ones we get don't choose to stay very long. When we were younger he used to flash the main room lantern for me in a series of codes, often to cheer me up when mother couldn't make it home or when I was ill from working too much.

It surprised me to see that the blinds to the main room were drawn, Auggie usually slept with the windows open to tame the heat. There was light pooling in between the curtain threads and rapid movement behind them: shifting shadows and rushed words.

"How odd," I say to myself, "even Auggie doesn't wake up this early." My curiosity gets the best of me and I swiftly make my way outside. Despite how close Auggie and I were, I rarely came over to visit him in the servant's quarters. He always insisted that we meet outside or in my room instead. Whenever I asked why, he made it a point to answer vaguely.

The first road slowly morphed into gravel as I approached the stout building, it caused some bothersome clamor beneath my shoes as I made my way across. I worried for a moment that it might alert someone of my presence before I realized the voices inside were shouting; shouting louder than I'd ever heard in my entire life. It made my whole body stiffen, an overwhelming sense of urgency and fear grappled me. I could feel sweat prick my nape as I skirted around the side of the house towards the back entrance. It was always unlocked, I knew that from when I'd drop off Auggie's clothes. The door opened silently to reveal an immaculately well kept interior. Despite how modest the area was, Auggie always made sure it was well kept. For himself as well as any new comers.

"No! Bullshit! This wasn't part of the deal!" There it was again; Auggie's calm joyful voice, raised to a staggering scream. I couldn't fathom what on Earth Elizabeth could have done to infuriate him like this.

"You think I give a damn about our deal anymore, August?" I turn the corner in the hall spilling with light, hoping to de-escalate their argument. The cherrywood planks were creaky, but hardly enough to distract from the clamor of their fighting. What kind of deal could be so important that they'd be willing to initiate a screaming match at 4:00 a.m for? And I realized as the living room entryway came into view.

That wasn't Elizabeth's voice.

She was gone for so long, I almost can't recognize her voice anymore. But it must have been: My mother. The realization paralyzes me. I'm a breath away from the door, anyone walking through could see me, but I can't will my limbs to move back.

"The only reason you're alive is because I want to protect Lyn! If you kill her, I'll fucking drag you down with her!"

"I never wanted this! I never wanted you! I never wanted her! If they wanna kill her like they planned, she can die for all I care!"

Wh-what on..... what are they talking about? What's going on? Why-

My feet start moving again. I turn the last corner.

Auggie stands with his hands braced on the coffee table. He's dressed in his white button down and blazer, a black belt cinches his waist where his grey dress pants begin; a formal outfit he only reserved for visits to the town for supplies. There's a blazing inferno in his eyes, one so terrifying and foriegn it almost makes me bolt. My mother sits opposite to him, completely different from how I remember her, yet chillingly familiar. She has the same raven black hair as I do, but hers is better kept and falls past her waist. Her skin is still porclain, unmarked from days beneath the sun and hours of labor like mine was. She's almost as tall as Auggie, thin and frail like most people outside wall Sina were. But there's a certain fire to her as well. Her entire being is rigid with it.

I can suddenly feel Auggie's eyes on me, I turn my gaze to meet his, and the raging anger I inside him before has been replaced by a nauseatingly desperate fear.

"Lyn.... kid....." he utters, seemingly against his will, and my mother's head snaps in my direction. The entire world seems to go into limbo as she catches sight of me standing in the door way, my mouth agape. A different kind of horror and shock occupy my mom's face, I can't quite decipher it,

"Mo....ther....."

"Darling..... you-"

"GRAB HER!" A rush of footsteps shatters the tense quiet of the room. Bodies emerge from the shadows as if materializing from thin air. Three men and women in total, cloaked in black with weapons strapped to their sides with leather.

"Get the boy!" My mother commands, I'd never heard her so frantic before. She points an accusing finger at Auggie and one of the figures charges.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" The man clasps an arm around his waist hefting him off the ground, I see something glint at his side and all at once my body is mine again.

"Please don't!" I lunge forward only to be yanked back by a second being. The scent of gun powder fills my nose and I feel a cold nozzle plunge against my temple.

"We don't know what she's heard, Suzannah. I'm killing her now!"

"Stop! I give the orders here!"

"Don't fucking touch her, you bastards!" Auggie screeches, clawing his way over his captor's shoulder, "Ms.Collins! Please! Don't-" But his pleas fall on deaf ears. Someone digs their fingers into my cropped hair, pulling me back and slamming my head through the glass of a nearby shelf. I cry out as splitting hot pain bullets through my skull, making my vision go blurry. All the raging chaos around me becomes muffled, my legs give out and I hit the ground hard.

"No! Please!" Auggie's screams reverberate through the ringing in my ears. The men are still dragging him away. I can't think straight, everything hurts. I just want Auggie, my mother even, just someone to make it stop. I reach forward feebly towards the door as someone scoops up my limp body.

Don't..... go, Auggie. Please don't go.

There's a sharp pain in the back of my neck, and everything dissolves into darkness.