After the Civil War, the life in Vittil Ghar has changed beyong recognition. With the reign of the new government, Cassandra, William and Jethro's parentless lives became an ongoing struggle for survival. Their routine of Countings and travelling to...
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Even though it had technically been spring for a week or so, the morning air outside was still cold enough to see your own breath. The fire crackling in the fireplace made the kitchen a warm and cosy refuge for Cassandra and Jethro who were seated at a little wooden table, eating breakfast. There were three cups set out on the table, but it was just the two of them in the quiet room. They hadn't seen William since his great escape the previous day, something he had started doing quite frequently in the past few months.
The clock on the wall said eight thirty. With every passing minute, the atmosphere in the house grew thicker. Cassandra's eyes didn't move from the front door. She looked worried, but she always had when her brother wasn't around. She wouldn't openly admit it but she tried to substitute a mother role to her brother even though he was only three minutes younger than her and at nineteen wasn't a child anymore.
"William Reynard Travers!" Cassandra yelled as soon as he opened the door. William walked into the kitchen, not making eye contact with either of them. His thick, curly hair was tangled and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. His T-shirt, the same one he had worn the previous day, was covered in soil, and he was shivering. He didn't say anything, so Cassandra continued. "Where the hell have you been?"
A weak "shh" came as a response. "Headache." William crossed the room, threw himself down on a couch closest to the fireplace and buried his head into a pillow, not even bothering with taking off his brown combat boots. Strong smell of alcohol and sweat filled the air, following William like an invisible tail. "Needed some alone time," he muttered.
Jethro would swear he could feel Cassandra's temper rising. She hated when William did that. Running away and trying to deal with everything by himself instead of talking to her about what was going on and asking for help, that is. But that was just something he did. He never opened up to neither Cassandra nor Jethro. There were certain things he just never talked about. Things he tried to stamp out with excessive alcoholic sprees and casual sex.
Cassandra felt useless when she couldn't help her twin brother feel better. And William knew it. He knew how his behaviour affected her, he wasn't stupid. Sometimes Jethro thought William even found some kind of a weird pleasure in that, in hurting the people who loved him, and that he did it on purpose.
Cassandra stood up and wrinkled her nose at the alcohol smell. "I was scared to death, you prat." She pointed at Jethro with her right hand. "We both were."
Jethro just shrugged and continued sipping the coffee from his cup. She was wrong. Jethro wasn't scared to death. Being missing for one night was nothing to be worried about when it came to William. He always came back alive and well, after all.
At least that's what Jethro liked to tell himself to keep from freaking out when William didn't come home. He would just brush it off as if it was nothing in front of Cassandra, but the truth was, Jethro never slept when William disappeared without saying a word. He wouldn't admit that to Cassandra, though.
Just when Jethro thought the conversation about William's behaviour was over, when Cassandra sat down, she spoke again. "You really had to do that today? Can you imagine what would happen if you didn't show up on time?" Her voice was firm and almost angry, but a lot of pain mixed with even more relief was hidden in it.
William sat up, eyed his sister and smirked. "I did show up, though, didn't I?" There was no sign of remorse in his speech. He was back to being his usual sarcastic self. But Cassandra wasn't having any of it.
"Why can't you just talk to us for once, about what's going on?"
He growled. "Stop lecturing me, Cass, I'm not a bloody kid."
"Then stop acting like one."
William was fed up with the conversation. "Are we really gonna do this every time?" He leaned back on the couch and clasped his hands behind his head. "I just went out, had fun, made it back on time. As always. No big deal."
Cassandra sighed and put her head in her palms for a moment, a few curls of her hair fell down to her face. Then she raised her gaze at Jethro for reassurance, so he gently took her hand, closed his eyes and gave her a little nod. He kept his role of a silent spectator and let the storm that were the Travers twins pass on its own. It usually didn't take long, anyway.
William stood up and made his way to the kitchen. He put his hand on his sister's shoulder and caressed it with his thumb. "I'm sorry you were worried." He kissed her cheek and then took the cup out of her hands and sipped the coffee. "Gross. Pour me some, would you?"
On his way out of the room, he ruffled Jethro's hair and then disappeared for good twenty minutes. When he came back, his clothes were clean and the unpleasant smell was gone. He joined them at the table just as a shrill sound penetrated the room. A siren. Looking at the clock, Jethro realised.
"We should go," Cassandra said. She stood up and put on a bottle-green sweater she had prepared on a couch standing next to the window the day before. Her brother continued disinterestedly sipping the bitter fluid from his mug, which seemed to be quite tiny in his hands, and Jethro made a mental note to buy more of such pretty mugs in the future.
Jethro was about to get up and join Cassandra, but when she wasn't looking, William made a face at him to stay put. And as much as he hated them arguing, he loved them teasing each other so he eased back into his chair and waited.
Cassandra passed the wide door-frame connecting the kitchen with the hall, her hands on her hips. "Pick up your butts or I'm going to do it for you."
"You're not," said William, laying his mug on the table.
She leaned over and gave her brother a look. "Try me."
The boys were both ready to leave in less than two minutes. They put on their boots and indigo jackets with their initials embroidered in white thread on the chest and they set off towards the centre of the city.
"You should have done something with your face, Bill," said Cassandra to her three minutes younger brother. "You look dead."
