Broken

Forgotten

I sit there until someone comes in with food. It is meat and some leafy vegetable. There are no utensils. What was I expecting from these people? I grab the meat and bring it up to my mouth. I bite into it. The meat is tough. The taste is like no other. I finish the meal.

How much time has passed since they brought in the meal? I wait there patiently, wondering if someone will come in. My own thoughts are a mixture of what has happened within the time I was kicked out until now. I want to forget the face of the hungry Savage, the words of the one who tried to kill me, and the events leading to this moment. I want to wake up from this nightmare.

The door opens. The same guy that brought the food comes in. He has a bucket within his hands. "Just wait till the food processes, you will be throwing up chunks everywhere. It happens to everyone the first time they eat it," he tells me.

"How long have I been here? What is your name," I ask him.

"You have been here only for two days. My name is Evan Grant. I am of no importance in the Nomads. You clearly will be," he states.

"Evan, can you stay here and talk to me. Explain to me everything that has been happening. Please stay here."

"Sorry, that is Clayton's job. He is the leader," he says. He grabs the plate and I mutter my thanks. He leaves. Once gone, Clayton comes in. He smirks at me.

"Tori Ana. Who were your parents," Clayton says.

I smile sadly at the memory of their faces. I answer, "They are people the society will always shelter. I, their daughter, has been abandoned. Their names are Stacy and Chris Pratt." Tears start falling. "I will never be their daughter anymore. I will never be able to smile with them. I have a brother. He is three years my junior."

Clayton crouches down and rests his hand on my head. I look toward him. He seems to understand what it is like to leave the society. He wipes the tears from my face. He gets up and puts his hands in front of me to help me get up. I take the hands once more.

"Thank you. You have confirmed my suspicions. You are the sister I left when I was kicked out. You won't remember me. You were only thirteen months old. I was six."

I look at him. He is my brother my parents never told me about. Was my little brother his replacement? Will I be forgotten just as he was? Will I just be presumed dead and they will move on with their lives? Was I even important in their lives? At that moment, I remember the tears that had been shed by my parents as I was being taken away.

I was important. Nearly 18 years will be suppressed. I wonder how many families have had to arrive to the same conclusions. He has been doing this for 17 years. Would I be able to do what he has done and survive this cruel world?

"Just remember everything is temporary. Even the scars that you will get, will fade away. The life you are living becomes nothing more after you die. Death may seem cruel but it might be the only thing that will release you. Once you are able to understand that, only then will you be ready to survive," he says stoically. He open the door and walks away. I hear the lock being put back into place.