Love Burns

Upside down - Elodie's POV

 This is not how I expected my day to go. You would think that after years of pickpocketing, stealing, running, and thieving I would have seen it all, or have expected any and every possible outcome to whatever I happen to do that day. But it seems that fate just has to keep itself entertained with my life.

When I had headed out the door that morning, waving bye to my mother who was knitting something, I had thought that things would go the way that they normally went. I would walk to the market with my hood up, take something such as a vegetable or money, and duck back into the crowds before hearing someone yell out "thief!" or not even realize that their things had been stolen. As the years go by I've started hearing less cries of my thieving, but every now and then I slip up and get chased down. Today was one of those days.

Sack of potatoes clutched tightly in hand, I sprint down the stone pathways of my town while pairs of heavy boots stomp behind me. My free hand is holding down my hood so it doesn't fly off in the chase, as I don't feel like getting caught today after so many years of successful efforts. It really wasn't my fault that I was caught today, the worker at the stall had looked busy enough to not notice if I took that perfect sack of potatoes. So, I grabbed it as quick as possible and was just about to get away with it when she turned back around and squealed like the pig she is.

To make matters worse, there was a group of knights sitting and drinking at a nearby bar that I hadn't noticed. So here I am, my ego and my feet hurting since I had thought myself to be rather observant of my surroundings. I twisted and turned around side streets and alleyways trying to lose these guys, but they were on my tail more than a flea to a dog. This was getting annoying rather quickly.

I pushed my legs to run faster when I noticed an alley that I knew to be one of my best escape routes in these situations. I turned sharply and ran down the steep incline of the narrow street stuck in between the maze of stone buildings and curves. I heard them falter for a few precious seconds and I squeezed myself behind an archway hidden under the shadows of a bridge. Holding my breath, I watched them run by shouting "she went this way!". I smirked to myself at the success and hid out for another minute or two before stuffing my hooded cloak into my bag and walking back out of the alley to blend into the crowd.

In the busy street I knew I was protected. I saw the knights resurface out of a connected alley, asking the passerbyers if they had seen a cloaked individual with a bag of stolen goods. I kept walking with a relaxed posture and wondering what mother would make with the potatoes when I would get home. It was then that I noticed how close I had gotten to home in my attempts to shake off my pursuers. I bit my cheek and prayed that the knights wouldn't come knocking on doors over some potatoes. I doubted it, after all they were just potatoes. Nothing of immediate value.

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"Mother! I'm home!" I yelled once I had stepped through the back door of our house. Walking into the kitchen, I deposited the potatoes into a small cupboard meant for my recent takings. It was hidden in plain sight, purposefully inconspicuous to any who might wish to go snooping in our home where they shouldn't be. I saw my mother coming down the stairs, a warm smile on her tired face.

"Welcome home, dear. You were gone for longer this time, have you gotten yourself into trouble?" She said with a playfully accusatory look on her face, a singular eyebrow raised. I smiled. She was always worried that I wouldn't make it home to have dinner with her one of these days. The thought of her sitting alone at the table, worried about her only remaining child, hurt to invision. I shook my head to clear away the bad thoughts.

"No, just a close call." I said with a wink. She rolled her eyes fondly and embraced me in a warm hug. "You must be more careful, Elodie. One day you may get caught, and what of your poor mother then?" She asked. I hugged her tighter. "I won't. I will not leave while you're still here, mother." I pull back and kiss her forehead. She smiles and returns the gesture with a press of her lips to my head. Everyday I'm grateful for her to be here, alive and well.

"What did you bring home? Or did your little expedition prove to be unfruitful?" She asked, a change in topic. I decided to go with the change. "I brought us some potatoes, a sack full. I figured you could find a recipe that calls for them?" "Hmm, I can do a stew? Or bake them? Or would you like me to do something more complicated?" She says, taking a potato from the cupboard and inspecting it.

I smile and sit down on a nearby chair. "Stew sounds wonderful, mother. Anything you make is delicious." She smiles in return and starts gathering ingredients. "Thank you dear. I try to do my best, considering you do the most for us." I shake my head, but I don't try to argue with her. I only ever do whatever keeps us alive and healthy, but she always takes it as if I'm burdened. I wish she would stop blaming herself for what happened that night, but alas, grief is never that simple.

It was me, mother, father, my brother and two sisters enjoying our night. Me and my siblings were playing in our room while father was in the foyer and mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Nothing was abnormal until I heard a loud crash from downstairs. Being the children that we were, we figured mother had just dropped a bunch of kitchen supplies. My eldest sister went to go help her clean up, but before she could the sounds of yelling filled the house. A group of men by the sounds of their voices.

My brother told us to stay put while he went to check. He walked out of the room and closed the door. Me and my sisters looked at one another warily before hearing the yelling becoming more heated, more violent. A scream, my mother's, sounded with a thud from downstairs. My sisters immediately ran downstairs to see what was wrong, but I had felt off about the whole thing.

I hid underneath my bed, pushing some toy boxes in front of me so I couldn't be seen from under the bed. That seemed to be the correct choice as higher pitched screams and frantic talking from my siblings seeped through the thin walls of my house. A wet crunch could be heard and I felt my stomach drop. I could tell that that sound was not from mother's dinner preparations. Tears rolled down my cheeks in a silent stream as another wet crunch came, and another, and another. However the last crunch was not so hard.

I covered my mouth when I heard footsteps climbing up the stairs. The door opened and I saw the shadow of a large man cover the floor of our– my room. The man walked around, obviously searching for another possible victim. "Only three!" the man had yelled then. He was talking about the beds, I assumed. I had always shared a bed with my older sister, afraid to sleep alone, so we only had the need for 3. The man walked out and I was never more grateful for that fact.

The sound of a bowl touching the table brought me out of my memories. I looked up to see the smiling face of my mother looking down at me. I smiled back and thanked her for the food. The stew looked great and tasted even better. I sighed contentedly and watched her eat from her own bowl. It was really a miracle that I was left with at least my mother, her escaping with a mere scar running along her chest.

Yes, I would always make sure to be back home for dinner, no matter what.