The Past
Hunter age ten.
Dark.
It’s too dark in here.
I wonder where all the light went.
It smells so foul.
We all smell foul like stale pee and raw sewage. This cage is too small for my body. My stomach rumbles with hunger pains and my throat is extra dry. I need water. When was the last time I had any water? I feel sick and cramped and restricted. I feel like a caged beast left to rot in its own waste.
I hate this feeling.
I hate Grace.
I hate her so much.
I could kill her.
Hero and Naya whine in their cages next to me.
They’re awake.
I wish they stayed asleep.
They don’t need to see this.
They don’t need to be here.
They have suffered so much already.
I have to stop this.
I would stay here forever if they were completely free form the monster that we call Mother.
“Close your eyes,” I rasp into the still blackness. “Picture happiness.”
“I’m scared, Hunter,” Hero sniffs.
“Me, too,” Naya mumbles weakly.
“Don’t be. I’m right here. And I’ll never leave you. Never. I’m going to protect both of you.”
“What if she comes back?” Hero asks softly. “My back and shoulders hurt. I don’t want to be beaten again. It hurts. I hurt.”
“I’ll slit her throat,” I answer. “I’ll slit her throat while she sleeps. It’ll be easy. A piece of cake.”
“Hero, no!” Naya cries.
“You’re gonna kill Mom?”
“Yes. It’ll be over quickly, in a flash.”
“You can’t, Hunter,” Naya begs. “Mama is sick. You can’t kill her or she won’t get better.”
I grit my teeth out of anger. I love my sister, but I don’t understand her. “She beats you. She starves you. She locks you in an animal cage for days. Why are you protecting her?”
“Mama is sick. She can’t help it, Hunter,” she says, taking up for the witch.
Grace is an evil witch from hell.
“A sick animal should be put out of its misery,” I say.
“No, Hunter, no,” Naya says through tears. “If you kill her that means you’re no better than Mama. Mama is sick. You are not. Don’t do it.”
“What’s your vote, Hero?” I ask, already knowing his answer.
“Don’t do it,” he answers, agreeing with Naya like I knew he would.
“We could be free,” I tempt. “Free to do whatever. Free to eat whenever we want.”
“We won’t be free. She’ll haunt us after death.”
“Like Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
“I doubt she’ll be friendly about it, Naya,” I say. Closing my eyes and seeing Isabel’s warm smile.
“I’m hungry.”
“Me, too.”
“Close your eyes and picture happiness,” I say.
They get quiet and I know they’re listening. “Tell me what you see.”
I listen while they tell me.