I continued to drink my velvet wine while I stared at him. It was both bitter, the wine and the look on his face, but I wasn't satisfied yet. It was stupid of him to break into my home and try to steal something. Who was that oh-so-intelligent person whosent a burglar to cut into my hardly livable house? Who was so dim-witted?
"Do not get blood on my floor." I watched him choke on his blood. I slit his throat when I caught him trying to flee. The scarlet drips ran down his neck and onto his palm. My nose was stung by the overpowering scent of blood. I finished my wine and gingerly set my cup down on the table next to me. My gaze never strayed from his. My eyes instantly noticed a drop of crimson that had fallen on my carpet. I rose. They simply don't—
"Mabel! The dishes! Unless you want me to call out your father, I will not say it again!" my mother yelled, interrupting my reading.
I sighed, marking my place in the 256-page book I'd been struggling to finish for a month. Why couldn't I seem to complete anything in this house?
"There will be no need for that, Mama!" I called back, then let out a frustrated moan. I closed my book and left the loft, putting on my mules as I hurried down the creaky wooden stairs.
I trudged toward the kitchen, surveying the space. A small fireplace crackled, with a blackened pot suspended over the embers. Dishes overflowed from the sink, food scraps littered the floor, and a makeshift table and chairs occupied the centre.
"Why do I still do the dishes at eighteen?" I asked, watching my mother wipe her hands on a rag before heading to the living room.
She paused, exhaling wearily. "Because I know you're the only one who will listen... I seem to have raised five animals." Her brown eyes, tired and worn, met mine before she turned to gather firewood by the fireplace.
Her skin was sunburned from years of working at the market, etched with wrinkles and stress lines.
She leaned to gather more firewood, and I felt a pang in my heart. I couldn't bear the thought of her falling ill like my father. Our family was already struggling to make ends meet.
"I'll take that, Mama," I frowned, gently prying the firewood from her grasp. Her hands, worn from years of toil, relaxed as she smiled weakly.
"Thank you, dear." She stretched her arms along her waist, a subtle hint of exhaustion.
Matilda's voice drifted from the living room, "Don't worry, Mama, when I marry a Duke or Viscount, you'll never have to carry wood again." I glanced over, seeing her sitting comfortably, knitting, while Mama bore the weight of household chores.
Matilda was always lost in her fantasies. As her younger sister, just a year her junior, I couldn't help but feel frustrated by her delusions. Her naivety was infuriating.
I shot her a scathing glance. "You've been sitting here, knitting, while Mama struggled to gather firewood that could snap her back in two?" She knew how easily Mama grew tired, yet chose to sit idly, leaving everything to her.
Her complexion was a porcelain doll-like perfection. Her eyes gleamed like dark, polished gemstones that was impossible to ignore. And her autumnal locks cascaded down her shoulders like a riot of fallen leaves. She was so beautiful, I was almost jealous.
She reclined in the wooden chair, propping her feet on the rusty table, which groaned in protest. She ignored my scold, returning to her knitting with an air of nonchalance.
Mama intervened, shuffling into the kitchen. "Take your mules off my table, you're damaging it." Strands of grey hair peeked out from her reddish-brown locks, and the scratching had loosened her packed-up bun. The dark circles under her eyes told me she'd had another sleepless night.
Matilda and I chimed in unison, "Are they not already damaged?" We locked eyes, shocked by our simultaneous response, and burst out laughing.
Just then, Orian came barreling from the backyard, shouting "Mabel! Mabel! Mabel!" as he hurtled toward me. My lips curled into a smile, but it quickly faltered as I took in his dishevelled state.
His shirt and tunic were caked with brown dirt, and his blond hair was similarly smeared, as if he'd taken a tumble in the mud. "Look!" he exclaimed, holding out his hands. I felt a sense of dread wash over me. His hands were cradling two squirming, dirt-encrusted earthworms.
"Why are you holding those disgusting creatures?" I gasped in horror.
Without thinking, I scooped him up, his dirty clothes and all, and cradled him in my arms. He grinned up at me, and I couldn't help but be struck by his carefree joy. When was the last time I'd smiled like that? Probably when I was his age, before the weight of our family's struggles had settled upon me.
The thought of what I was secretly planning to do at Mud Hollow stung, but I pushed it aside, determined to focus on my younger brother for now.
Natalie emerged from the backyard, a knowing glint in her eye. "Matilda told him that if he could catch thirty earthworms, we could magically live in Velcan."
I shot Matilda a disbelieving scowl. "Thirty?!" Why would she fill his head with such fanciful lies?
Orian, still cradled in my arms, gazed up at me with large, trusting brown eyes and his red cheeks glowed with excitement. Despite the poverty that marked our lives Orian's innocence and joy remained unblemished. Unlike Natalie who I couldn't help but think that her maturity was a product of our harsh lives. Poverty had a way of ageing you prematurely.
It seemed that from the moment we drew our first breaths, we were condemned to a life of hardship and suffering,
Matilda often took advantage of Orian's good nature, spinning tales that only served to disappoint. I feared that in just two years, Orian's happiness would slowly drain away as he came to terms with our bleak reality.
I turned my scowl on Natalie, who was watching Orian with a smile. "And you didn't try to stop him?" I asked incredulously.
She settled into the chair beside Matilda, her expression unrepentant. "It was quite entertaining, Mabel. You should have seen his determination."
I seethed with frustration, my hand itching to slap the smug smile off her face. What if he had gotten sick from the earthworms? What if he'd mistaken something else for an earthworm and gotten bitten? Her carelessness was appalling.
"Righttttt?!" Matilda giggled in agreement with Natalie, but I shot them a withering look.
"You're both crushing his spirit," I said, dismayed.
Matilda countered, "No, we're not."
Natalie's expression turned sombre. "The child must understand that we're confined to Bridlesmark for the rest of our miserable lives."
"I will not tolerate negativity in my household, Natalie." Mama's gentle reprimand cut through the air.
Natalie's eyes clouded with a faint frown as she murmured, "Just the facts."
I settled Orian on her lap, smearing dirt on her black dress. She shot me a withering glance before turning to Mama, "Mama! My dress!" Her eyes flashed with annoyance.
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side. "Why don't you wash him, since you enjoyed watching him play with dirt?"
Mama intervened, covering her ears from Natalie's piercing cry. "You heard your sister, Natalie. Take Orian and clean him up."
With a scowl, she stood up, Orian still clinging to her, and trudged into the washroom.
"Zion!" Mama suddenly screamed, and the sound of my father's name jolted me back to reality, reminding me of why I'd come downstairs in the first place.
"Mama, mama, I'm washing!" I hastily began scrubbing the dishes, trying to appease her.
Mama watched me clear the plates, a disapproving shake of her head preceding a deep sigh. "Can you make dinner when you're done?"
I shot her a glare almost instantly. Why did I always have to do the chores? Why couldn't Matilda, who spent her days lounging around, do it for once? It wasn't fair. I was the one who went to the market to get mint. Why was I making dinner again?
I opened my mouth to protest, but my father's voice cut me off. "Listen to your mother." The creaking of the stairs signalled him coming down. Shouldn't he be resting? He was ill and exhausted. He was supposed to be lying in his loft.
"But—"
"Listen. To. Your. Mama," I scowled and reluctantly turned back to the dishes, knowing better than to argue further.
"Matilda can help—" My father struggled to speak, a coughing fit interrupting his words. He couldn't even take a seat before the coughing overtook him. My heart ached at the sight because I couldn't shake the fear of losing my Father.
Mama rushed to his side, helping him. Then, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears, before she looked away. "Mabel, please prepare the herbal tea for your father." Of course, I'd be the one to make the tea, on top of doing the dishes. It seemed like an endless list of tasks.
I let out a deep sigh and began to scrub the dishes, casting a sidelong glance at Matilda. She seemed utterly disinterested. I prepared the herbal tea for Father and had Matilda take it to him. She didn't object, probably because she knew I was shouldering all the chores.
The silence downstairs became almost unbearable, and I found myself growing increasingly uneasy. I detested being alone, and the stillness always seemed to amplify my thoughts. To distract myself, I hummed and made noise while washing the dishes, but my mind began to wander to the golden city where my heart yearned for a better life.
I finished washing the last dish and the door burst open. Arlo and Benjamin walked in, three dead fish held aloft like trophies. The fish landed in the sink and I stared at it, then at the person who'd dropped them into the sink I'd just cleaned.
"Are you mad?" I snapped, and Arlo's laughter filled the room as a response.
Benjamin trailed in, his voice laced with hunger. "We're starving, sister, feed us."
I glared at them, my frustration simmering. Why did they always expect me to have everything ready?
I turned back to the sink, eyeing the meagre catch. "Three fish for eight people? Congratulations, you've outdone yourselves in disappointing us."
Arlo's voice came from behind me, his tone firm. "We're hungry, Mabel. We don't need your attitude right now." I heard the creak of the old wooden chair as he sat down.
I gripped the knife tightly, my movements precise as I stabbed one of the fish, releasing some of the tension building inside me.
"Are you taking out your frustrations on the poor fish?" Natalie came out of the washroom, Orian clean and dressed in her arms.
I stabbed the fish in the tail, my movements deliberate. "Just rehearsing what I'd like to do to our brothers," I said, trying to sound lighthearted.
Orian's tiny arms wrapped around my legs, and he looked up at me with wide eyes. "Do we get to live in Velcan now, Mabel?"
My heart ached at the mention of Velcan, A city of riches, where the privileged few resided. I felt a pang of longing, knowing we'd never call Velcan home. It was a distant dream.
Living in Bridlesmark, I'd grown accustomed to the struggles in the town shunned by the wealthy, where the divide between our worlds was as stark as the colours of our eyes.
We were bound by the shackles of poverty, and they saw us as nothing more than lowly beggars, people with dull, colourless eyes and lives devoid of hope. The weight of our ancestors' mistakes rested on our shoulders. It was a painful truth to accept, but we had no choice.
Ben's eyebrow shot up, "What's the little one going on about?"
"Matilda filled his head with nonsense, telling him that collecting thirty earthworms would somehow magically transport us to a life of luxury in Velcan", Natalie explained. I shook my head, still perplexed by Matilda's lies.
Our attention shifted to the stairs as the creaking of the wooden steps signalled Mama's approach. Ben and Arlo rushed to greet her, their foreheads touching the backs of her palms in a gentle gesture. "Mama," they chimed in unison.
Mama's raspy voice betrayed her exhaustion. "How did the fishing go?" Despite her fatigue, she had shouldered the burden of caring for our family since Father's illness. She worked tirelessly, but it was never enough.
My heart ached at the thought of our family being the cause of her suffering. I let out a sigh, "Your sons don't fail to disappoint, Mama. They only managed to catch three fish."
Her expression turned stern, her eyes flashing with a warning. "I will not tolerate negativity in my household, Mabel. No one is a failure here." She continued, "Natalie, prepare the bread—"
"I'm so tired of bread and fish!" Orian whined, his small voice filled with discontent. He was too young to fully grasp the depths of our poverty.
Natalie shot him a stern glance. "Oh, would you shut it!"
In our humble, rusty cottage, bread and fish were the only resources we had that didn't require spending precious money. Mama's small bakery brought in little earnings, leaving us with barely enough to save for Father's medical care.
So, we took matters into our own hands. The girls baked bread, while the boys went fishing every day. We were all exhausted from the monotony of our meals, but at least we were feeding ourselves. We didn't look gaunt like the people in Beggarsville, and we had a place to call home.
What more could we want?
The answer echoed in my mind, Velcan.
"Don't worry, Orian, when I marry a duke or viscount, we'll all live in Velcan." Matilda chimed.
I shot her a disapproving glare. "Would you stop being delusional?" But deep down, I knew it wasn't entirely impossible. If Matilda, with her beauty, were to marry someone of high rank, it could secure our family's future in Velcan, but the elite rarely visited Bridlesmark, except for business or to buy servants.
I remembered seeing a woman at the market, her blue eyes were breathtaking. Such beauty was a rarity in our 'humble' town. The memory of her still simmered within me. She'd been negotiating the price of a maid, as if humans were mere commodities. The cruelty of their people knew no bounds. They'd separated us from them with the canal, and yet they still felt entitled to buy and own humans from our side.
I'd heard tales of our ancestors and the atrocities they'd suffered at their hands. The people of the Golden City were notorious for their wickedness, and they only dared to enter Bridlesmark with guards. The market folk would trample them to death, as they had that lost green-eyed boy. His fate still haunted me – trampled, then discarded into the canal like rubbish.
Matilda's dramatic declaration made me roll my eyes. "You shall not get your estate when I do get married, for you are crushing my spirit!" She pressed her palm to her chest.
I ignored her theatrics. "I'll make the bread, Mama. You should rest; you look like you need it."
Matilda finally set aside her knitting. "I agree,"
I turned my attention back to the three sliced fish in the sink. For a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of the Golden City through the kitchen window. But I quickly looked away, knowing that staring at a dream I'd never attain would only bring me pain.
Velcan was a fantasy, a place I'd never set foot in. So, instead of chasing impossible dreams, I would focus on lifting my family out of poverty. If that meant making sacrifices, even compromising my dignity, then so be it.