Chapter 1: Crimson

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It was a normal gloomy day. The clouds hung low as usual and the streets were nearly empty. I ran back home in bare feet, mud soaked shoes grasped in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. Ever since the people in charge closed off our city from everyone else the food here hasn't been good and I haven't seen my cousin, who lived in a different city, for a long time. But today was a good day because today I turned ten years old. "Good evening Ara. Is that bread you've got there?" I heard one of my neighbors call from their doorway. He coughed harshly into a handkerchief and I watched as he removed the cloth from his mouth revealing a dark stain on the cloth that glistened with wetness. A small trickle of blood dripped from his crooked smile and as my eyes drifted around his face they landed on the small bulbous tumors forming on his face and the drooping of his once pointy ears. This man was sick too. I looked away and tried to hold back a gag. "I...I have to go" I muttered and continued running down the street, passing the sick elven man. I felt his hand reach out for my arm but I slipped past and picked up my pace. I could still feel the cold clamminess of his hand as I opened the door to my house.

Throwing my dirty shoes to the floor, I locked the door and quietly made my way into my small house. I found my mother where she was when I left. She looked up at me weakly from the living room floor and I flinched as she coughed into a cloth. I sat down beside her and observed her weak form. Her bronze skin was covered in a cold sweat and tear streaks showed on her dirt covered face. Her light brown hair was matted to her head in layers and even though she looked so sick her deep green eyes still twinkled when she looked at me.

I smiled softly and began breaking the small loaf of bread into three pieces. I focused hard on breaking the small piece of nourishment as I said to my mother quietly "I'm sorry but this is all I could get today. It's not very much, I know. I can go out later and-" but my mother cut me off. "You've done more than I could have hoped for. Don't worry my dear, we'll be okay." She shot me a gentle smile but I could see the pain in her eyes. The tears she had been shedding earlier were not completely gone from the shining green orbs that I had come to rely on for comfort.

I hesitated and then stood up. I began to make my way towards the small bedroom that my father was staying in. "I'll bring father his share". I explained. I had only taken a few steps when I felt my mother's hand on my leg. Her grip didn't hurt but it was definitely strong. For some reason she didn't want me to go see my father. "Ara" my mother's voice was soft and laced with sadness, "your father, he's..." her voice broke. I turned to face her and she averted her gaze from mine. "Mother" I whispered and took a step closer to her form sitting on the ground. She found the strength to meet my gaze and as we locked eyes she finished her previous thought. "Your father is sleeping. We can give him his share in the morning. Come, have your bedtime drink and get some sleep. You've got to make sure you stay nice and healthy and don't get sick like your dear old parents." She let out a pained and breathy laugh and I placed my father's portion of bread on our small table after wrapping it in a cloth. A small cough escaped from my throat and I picked up the drink my mother had set out for me, chugged it down, and wiped my mouth when I finished. It was a bright green as it always was and as I glanced around our kitchen I noticed it was the last one we had.

I tidied up the kitchen and folded a couple of blankets my mother had discarded. Her coughing and hacking was ever present in the background.  When I was satisfied with my cleaning I walked over to my mother and gently tucked the blankets around her frail body. Kissing her head gently and whispering a quiet "goodnight" I headed towards my room. I had protested my mother sleeping on the ground in the living room but she had insisted upon me sleeping in a bed.

It wasn't night time yet, in fact it was only early afternoon. But the rain storms had started and the air outside had become heavy and I couldn't help but yawn. My mother began a coughing fit and I couldn't help but feel like I could've done more for my parents, I should've done more for them. Covering my ears and trying to block out the sounds of my mother's coughing and crying, I repeated quietly in my head "We'll be okay...we'll be okay..." and as a single tear rolled down my cheek I drifted into sleep.

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Everything was too quiet. The rain had stopped and I could tell by the lack of stray dogs that it wasn't morning yet. I threw my blankets off of my body and sat on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes. I slipped on my extra pair of shoes and headed out to where my mom was sleeping.

Sleeping.

Sleeping...

Sleeping?

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight I was witnessing. Lying where I left her was my mother, blood covering her face and the floor around her; it was unmistakable that it had come from her mouth. The crimson had dried on her now pale face and her hair sat in a tangled mess on top of her head. The wooden floor was laced with scratches and two of her fingernails lay scattered on the floor far away from the bloody tips of her fingers where they used to be. I would've called out for her but there was no doubt that she had died and I was in complete shock at the moment.

In desperation I ran to my father's room and was greeted by a similar sight as to the one of my mother in the living room. My father lay in his bed, blood covering his face, his short black hair a mess atop his head. But his eyes had been closed and his bed sheets made to look neat. It dawned on me that my father must have been dead when I had come back home yesterday and that my mother must have tried to make him look less...hectic. On closer inspection I could see that his hands had been tied to the sides of the bed and raw, bloody circles wrapped around his wrists from what I could only assume were his attempts to escape from this bed.

All at once the image of my father writhing and screaming, like those I had seen in the street, came to me. I could see him lying in this bed and my mind wandered to dark places filled with ear piercing screams of agony. I saw my mother crying outside the room crying as she heard the one she loved suffering and dying. And I saw her lying to me when I came home. I saw her protecting me and keeping me healthy with those stupid potions she tried to disguise as "a healthy drink".

Then I saw my mother dying and crying on that floor. Cold and alone with no hope and no one to hold her and the fear of what comes after death. I saw her carving up the floorboards with her fingernails trying to escape an unescapable fate.

I saw my parents dying hopelessly and without meaning.

I became short of breath and I ran back to my room and past my mother's body. I closed my door and slid down with my back to the door. I wanted to cry and scream but no sound escaped me and tears wouldn't leave my eyes. I wanted to go back to sleep and I wanted this nightmare to be over. I wanted everything to seem as okay as it had when I came home yesterday.

When I came home yesterday... But I hadn't come home yesterday and I hadn't brought the bread home yesterday, I had brought it home today. It was still the day I avoided my sick neighbor, still the day my mother had told me my father was "only sleeping", still the day I blocked out the sounds of my mother dying, still the day I was so excited about turning ten. Today was still my birthday.

At this revelation I grabbed my small patched up bag and threw in items at a rapid pace. I didn't care what I was taking, food, clothing, my journal, a small knife; whatever I thought would be at all useful. I avoided the dead eyed glare of my mother's cloudy green eyes as I ran out of the house slamming the door behind me. I ran and ran and ran. I didn't know where I was going or how far I would go but I was leaving this plagued city because I would not let myself die the way my parents did.

I reached the guard line and snuck around the armoured elves, making my way slowly away from the place I had grown up. When I was sure the guards wouldn't see me, I began running again. Teurell is a big continent, I was sure I could find somewhere that I could fit in.

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