An Angel's Hell - Chapter Four
Laila is hurt.
Thea shakes me awake only after a half an hour of sleeping. I do not see how the Prospects expect students to sleep only two hours before returning to school and working all over again. Maybe they do not. I do not complain but my grumpy nature is enough to make Thea scowl and Laila frown.
"I want you to take Laila to school so I can drop off the fish," I tell Thea as I scoop up the sack of fish.
Thea wrinkles her nose but nods just the same as she hangs Laila's backpack over her shoulders. Both Laila's and Thea's blond hair are pulled back in the usual low bun with small wisps of hair sticking out. If mother was her old self she would have perfected their hair and sprayed a small mist of perfume over their grimy clothes. But, as usual, she was in bed claiming to be sick when really we all knew she was in the middle of another break down. Poor little Laila is only seven years of age and is more mature than she should have to be for a girl her age. This morning I sense something is wrong because her usual bubbly personality is subdued by a vacant life in her eyes. Gently, I pick her up and kiss her cheek then poke the tickle spot on her stomach. Instead of laughing or getting me back she groans softly and lays her head against my shoulder. This is not normal, I am worried.
"Baby, what is wrong?" I ask softly, running my fingers across her cheek like I do when she is sick. Could she be sick now?
Laila shakes her head and wraps her arms around my neck. Concerned, I force her away, looking her in the eye. "Hon, tell bubba what is wrong."
Bubba is what mother came up with before dad had left. This title was not my favorite by any means but it soothed my sister. Thea stopped smoothing out the wrinkles of her shirt and touched Laila on the forehead, checking her temperature. Confused, Thea shook her head indicating it was normal then looked at me for the answers I did not know. Instead of pressing Laila for answers I tenderly shift my footing and rock her in my arms, like mother did before. Laila does not cry, she is so strong, but she does sniffle and pull up her shirt to reveal a large purplish and blackish blob that extended from her rib cage to her belly button. I bite my tongue to fight back the anger as I sit her down on the counter and survey the wound. It is only until I taste blood do I let up on biting my tongue. Thea takes over after a moment, she is as good as a certified nurse, and concludes Laila has one cracked rib on her left side.
"How did this happen?" I question even though I already have an idea.
Laila exhales a shattered whimper and replies, "I accidentally tripped over a guard's foot and he got mad. I'm sorry Loren. I know you said to be good, I promise I tried." By the time she had finished both her and Thea were on the verge of tears.
What can I say? That I will go down and talk some sense into that bastard or talk with the school board that is ruled by Prospects? There is nothing I can say. I find myself holding both of my sisters, not crying but not emotionally stable either. Hugging them tightly, I sigh and shake my head. "It will get better. Everything will be okay."
Thea shot an accusingly look at me just as the tardy bell rang through the town; making us all jump. Here all students had to be accounted for and if they missed a day they got a strike. Two strikes within a three month quarter meant punishment. I already had one.
"We had better run," I say, pulling Laila into my arms and leaving the fish behind knowing I do not have time.
With natural good sense, Thea pauses to put the fish into the fridge then rushes out the door. I should check on mother but I do not have time. Making a mental note to check on her before work, I run off to school.
School was nothing special. I had Trig first hour, Agriculture 4 second hour, Advanced English third hour, then lastly, a repeat of Trig combined with Prospect Laws for the last hour. I sleep through most of school and surprisingly I do not get into trouble. Most of the teachers are from our community so they are more lenient towards students than the guards. I do realize, however, that Parcely is not here today. It is unusual, but not impossible, for him to miss school. Perhaps he had the flu, or something else. All day I am not able to shake Laila from my mind. If I did not have anything to lose I would go down there and murder the guard who laid his hands on my sister. But, if I did, I would be killed as well as my family probably. After school I sprint home so I am able to have enough time to check on mother and also get the fish to Jill and the market. I find mother prompt up in bed with the same empty expression plastered to her once radiant face.
Dark curls, the exact color of my short curly hair, were wild against her skinny structure and hollow cheeks gave her subtle beauty a harsh and undesired edge. Emerald green eyes meet my own as I sit at the edge of her bed beside her and begin braiding her hair down her back. We do not speak, we hardly have since dad left, but the silence is not uncomfortable. My mother is one of the few who are able to sit without speaking and not find it awkward. Perhaps it is because half the time it was like she was in another world. Today is a good day for her, so it seems. She hums softly as I coax my fingers through her ratted hair. Once the braid is complete I go to leave but her hand stalls my feet. Gripping my shoulder she stares at me with a glimmer of life in her eyes.
"Is your dad home yet from the field?" she asks through a dry and tight throat.
I shake my head but decide it is easier to play along than try to explain to the insane woman who was once my mommy. "Not yet," I respond, shaking her cold and hard grip away before making a break for the door.
I do not make it in time to escape her muffled sobs.
"I want you to take Laila to school so I can drop off the fish," I tell Thea as I scoop up the sack of fish.
Thea wrinkles her nose but nods just the same as she hangs Laila's backpack over her shoulders. Both Laila's and Thea's blond hair are pulled back in the usual low bun with small wisps of hair sticking out. If mother was her old self she would have perfected their hair and sprayed a small mist of perfume over their grimy clothes. But, as usual, she was in bed claiming to be sick when really we all knew she was in the middle of another break down. Poor little Laila is only seven years of age and is more mature than she should have to be for a girl her age. This morning I sense something is wrong because her usual bubbly personality is subdued by a vacant life in her eyes. Gently, I pick her up and kiss her cheek then poke the tickle spot on her stomach. Instead of laughing or getting me back she groans softly and lays her head against my shoulder. This is not normal, I am worried.
"Baby, what is wrong?" I ask softly, running my fingers across her cheek like I do when she is sick. Could she be sick now?
Laila shakes her head and wraps her arms around my neck. Concerned, I force her away, looking her in the eye. "Hon, tell bubba what is wrong."
Bubba is what mother came up with before dad had left. This title was not my favorite by any means but it soothed my sister. Thea stopped smoothing out the wrinkles of her shirt and touched Laila on the forehead, checking her temperature. Confused, Thea shook her head indicating it was normal then looked at me for the answers I did not know. Instead of pressing Laila for answers I tenderly shift my footing and rock her in my arms, like mother did before. Laila does not cry, she is so strong, but she does sniffle and pull up her shirt to reveal a large purplish and blackish blob that extended from her rib cage to her belly button. I bite my tongue to fight back the anger as I sit her down on the counter and survey the wound. It is only until I taste blood do I let up on biting my tongue. Thea takes over after a moment, she is as good as a certified nurse, and concludes Laila has one cracked rib on her left side.
"How did this happen?" I question even though I already have an idea.
Laila exhales a shattered whimper and replies, "I accidentally tripped over a guard's foot and he got mad. I'm sorry Loren. I know you said to be good, I promise I tried." By the time she had finished both her and Thea were on the verge of tears.
What can I say? That I will go down and talk some sense into that bastard or talk with the school board that is ruled by Prospects? There is nothing I can say. I find myself holding both of my sisters, not crying but not emotionally stable either. Hugging them tightly, I sigh and shake my head. "It will get better. Everything will be okay."
Thea shot an accusingly look at me just as the tardy bell rang through the town; making us all jump. Here all students had to be accounted for and if they missed a day they got a strike. Two strikes within a three month quarter meant punishment. I already had one.
"We had better run," I say, pulling Laila into my arms and leaving the fish behind knowing I do not have time.
With natural good sense, Thea pauses to put the fish into the fridge then rushes out the door. I should check on mother but I do not have time. Making a mental note to check on her before work, I run off to school.
School was nothing special. I had Trig first hour, Agriculture 4 second hour, Advanced English third hour, then lastly, a repeat of Trig combined with Prospect Laws for the last hour. I sleep through most of school and surprisingly I do not get into trouble. Most of the teachers are from our community so they are more lenient towards students than the guards. I do realize, however, that Parcely is not here today. It is unusual, but not impossible, for him to miss school. Perhaps he had the flu, or something else. All day I am not able to shake Laila from my mind. If I did not have anything to lose I would go down there and murder the guard who laid his hands on my sister. But, if I did, I would be killed as well as my family probably. After school I sprint home so I am able to have enough time to check on mother and also get the fish to Jill and the market. I find mother prompt up in bed with the same empty expression plastered to her once radiant face.
Dark curls, the exact color of my short curly hair, were wild against her skinny structure and hollow cheeks gave her subtle beauty a harsh and undesired edge. Emerald green eyes meet my own as I sit at the edge of her bed beside her and begin braiding her hair down her back. We do not speak, we hardly have since dad left, but the silence is not uncomfortable. My mother is one of the few who are able to sit without speaking and not find it awkward. Perhaps it is because half the time it was like she was in another world. Today is a good day for her, so it seems. She hums softly as I coax my fingers through her ratted hair. Once the braid is complete I go to leave but her hand stalls my feet. Gripping my shoulder she stares at me with a glimmer of life in her eyes.
"Is your dad home yet from the field?" she asks through a dry and tight throat.
I shake my head but decide it is easier to play along than try to explain to the insane woman who was once my mommy. "Not yet," I respond, shaking her cold and hard grip away before making a break for the door.
I do not make it in time to escape her muffled sobs.
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