8It began on the eve of the summer solstice. My mother had sent me off to get some bread, handing me a gilda out of the emergency funds. I wondered why. Surely the solstice wouldn't affect us, and we could eat scraps like normal. Money was scarce. Why would she waste a gilda on a loaf of bread? But I didn't question her. I hurried on my way to the shop, holey boots sucking up mud and filth from the gross, dirty alley we lived in. Rain dripped down onto my head, sticking my bedraggled auburn hair to my face. I mewled. The water was cold and made my skin clammy. My ragged, threadbare "dress" clung to my skinny, childish frame. Wrapping my arms around my protruding ribs, I dashed through the streets. Regretfully, I wasn't looking where I was going. I only saw them at the last minute, and by then it was too late. My tiny body collided into black-clad soldiers, and I was knocked off my unsteady feet. I landed hard on the stone, crying out in pain. The two soldiers smirked at me menacingly.
"Oh, look at the little princess," one said, nudging the other, who also studied me, albeit less mockingly.
"Urchin, do mind where you're going. We have urgent business to attend to," the serious one said. I nodded, relieved to be let off. I headed back towards the shops, never once noticing that the soldiers were armed, and heading off in the direction of my street.
The shops were full for the holiday. I was in line for at least an hour, and in that time the village boys threw rocks at me and called me horrible names. In the end I was sure I had far too many bruises to count. But I steeled myself, and as I approached the counter, I smiled. The shopkeeper eyes me suspiciously, but seemed to relax when I pulled out the gilda. I pointed to a loaf of bread, and he nodded, beginning to wrap it. Suddenly, I felt my hands pulled behind my back. I whimpered in pain, and the shopkeeper looked up, eyes narrowed.
"Boys, let her go," he said. The village boys released my hands, but I frowned. They'd stolen my gilda.
"Give it back!" I protested feebly, voice cracking and then wavering.
"Give what back?" they asked, grinning and elbowing each other before running out of the shop. I felt a few tears stream down my face. The shopkeeper sighed, giving me the package anyway.
"I'll pay for it. You get on out of here," he said. I nodded gratefully, turning and hurrying out of the shop. I couldn't believe my luck. I lifted the bread to my nose, smelling it. It was too good to be true really. And I guess that's why I should've anticipated what happened next.
"Hey girl! Girl! Over here!" a voice called. The street ahead of me was empty, so I turned around cautiously, my heart thumping. The boy was cute, with curly hair, emerald eyes, and a dash of freckles across his nose. I blushed.
"H-hey," I said. He came closer to me and I tightened my body defensively. He cupped my cheek gently, and I felt myself tremble. No one had ever willingly gotten this close to me before, except my mother.
"That was a nice thing for the shopkeeper to do," he said. I nodded, smiling.
"That was my only gilda. I'm grateful he allowed me the bread," I replied. The boy nodded.
"Did you get a good loaf?" he asked. I bit my lip, pulling it out. He looked at it, then held out his hand. I hesitated, but decided someone who was so kind wouldn't suddenly be cruel. I was wrong. I was such an idiot. As soon as he got the loaf in his hand he tore it apart then dunked it into a mud puddle. I let out an indignant cry and he laughed, shoving me down into it as well. The filthy water soaked into my garment, and I started to cry. He kicked me down whenever I tried to get up, and only when he'd had his fill of amusement did he allow me to stand.
"Don't be stupid, street rat. You don't get to have bread, especially on the holidays. You should've already died. I'm surprised someone as useless as you has survived this long." He shot me a final, triumphant smirk, then took off at a leisurely pace down the street. I whimpered quietly, painful bruises covering my side. The bread was half-ruined, but I picked it up anyway, and salvaged what I could off it. I'd give it all to mom, considering that I had ruined everything.
My way home was slow and painful, and several times I had to stop because it felt like I was going to collapse. People in the heavily populated areas looked at me, then looked away, repulsed by the black and blue splotches on my arms and legs, and the muddy raggedness of my clothes. Eventually I got to our street. People stopped talking when I approached, staring at me with sadness in their eyes that sparkled like stars. I frowned. Something felt wrong. My stomach churned nervously. My mother's friend Renee, who lived in the alley opposite ours, burst into tears when she saw me. The sickness in my stomach got even worse. I turned to go the final few steps home, when I froze. The boxes and sheet of tin my mom had propped up to make a roof had all collapsed. The pile of rags she slept on were strained a horrible crimson, and rivulets of red ran down with the rain. I took a step forward, then froze. It was warm. I slowly stared down at my feet in horror, where my shoes were slowly absorbing blood. I screamed, but no one came to help me. I fell to my knees.
"MOM!" I screamed, over and over, until it became a desperate, pitiful sob. My throat was raw, and I was sure that if I coughed it would bleed. My eyes were swollen with tears, but I forced myself to crawl up to the pile of rags.
"You're just sleeping, mom, you're just sleeping... You can't hear me cuz you're under the pile... mom..." I mumbled to myself. I was dimly aware of the fact that the rest of my clothes were slowly turning scarlet as well, but I didn't care. I ripped my way through the rags, waiting for my hands to reach her, but they never did. Eventually the rags were scattered across the alley, and I stopped digging. Then I had a though. The box that covered up my "bedroom" was undisturbed. My bedroom was actually inside the wall of the tenement on one side of the alley. Inside the wall, my mother had made me a sort of nest of rags.
Ignoring the blood, I kicked the box aside, imagining her smile when she came out and explained it was all just a joke, and the red was juice, and that we were having a solstice party after all. But it came up empty. I screamed again, and a trickle of blood from my cracked throat trickled over my chapped lips. I ripped through my own rags, desperately searching for a hint of life. A scrap of paper brushed against my fingertips. I snatched up the note.
Xiao, it read. When you get this, I will be dead. Someone reported me for our emergency funds. They claimed I stole them. I knew they were coming ahead of time, so I had you leave. I hope you made it home safely, and I hope that gilda bought you some bread, because I have no idea when the next time you'll eat is. They took most of my emergency money, but I hid some in a loose floorboard under your pallet. There's no way they'll look there. At least, I hope so. I love you Xiao. I loved you more than anything else in the world, and I wish this never would've happened. I wish I could've given you a warm home, food, and clean water every night. But I couldn't. The world turned its back on me. But I have hope for you, love. I know that you can do much better than me. I can't really say anything else except I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Even when I'm dead and gone I'll never stop loving you. I'll watch over you from wherever I go. I love you, Xiao. Love, Mom.
I ripped open the floorboard and pulled out a small pouch. I tuck the note into it, my body moving mechanically. I can't tell you how I felt then, because I didn't feel anything at all. I acted like everything was normal, taking my clothes off, dipping them in a bucket of rainwater and hanging them up to dry in my hole in the wall. I moved the box back in front of the entrance, and rearranged my rags. I laid down in them, the familiar feeling of cloth surrounding my naked body lulling me into a fitful, nightmare-fueled sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, my senses were on red alert. I couldn't relax, and my heart was constantly hammering against my chest. I dressed quickly, forgoing my bloodstained boots. My dirty-white "dress" was tinged slightly pink. I flinched at the sight, lifting my head so I wouldn't have to see. The bloody alley had been wiped clean by the rain. I caught sight of the wet pulp that remained of my bread near the storm drain. I hurried past it, avoiding it as best I could. The pouch felt heavy, tucked into my undergarments. My stomach growled and I cringed. It had been three days since I'd last eaten, but I couldn't worry about that now. I had to get away. My feet padded along the pavement, directionless. I walked and walked for hours, until my body collapsed of its own accord. I laid on the sidewalk, and slowly closed my eyes, crying. I don't know how long I stayed in that position, but I was there for quite a while. I laughed through my tears.
You really are useless, aren't you? You have money, you have a place to sleep. You could be worse off than you are. Your mother must have died in vain if she had hopes for a pathetic girl like you, a cruel voice whispered in my ear.
It's okay to be sad. You've lost your mother. But you have to get up. You have to find something to eat, and go home, said a much kinder voice.
"I can't…" I whispered, my voice rough and hoarse. "I can't…" My eyes fell closed, and I wasn't sure that they would ever open again.
But they did.
