I have a soul

Seven

Before
Trip POV

I liked beaver dam lake. It was calm most days, as I helped the boys with their chores.
I was still terrible at fishing and left that to the boy genius Tom and helped John move firewood constantly.
While working he asked about the knives... much heavier duty than he'd expect a girl like me to carry. "I break knives like nobody else, I need the stronger blades to keep them from snapping in two..."
"Hmph, never would've guessed, but you sure have a lot of them Trip..,."
I shrugged, they were apart of me, all my knives... leaving one behind just felt wrong.

"Who taught you," he asked a few hours later, damn he's nosy isn't he,
"You know perfectly well who taught me, those Silent camps aren't picnics," I grumbled, shoving a log into his  hands so he could split it.
"I'm not your enemy kid."
"Everyone's my enemy until proven otherwise, you may not have killed me... but there's worse fates than death jerk."
By then I knew I had said too much, his glare reminding me I was the child.
"Don't talk to me like that, I asked a question and you should answer anyone's request with some respect. The more you act like a child, the more we'll treat you like one."
  I shoved him another log and said, "I wish it were that bloody simple, requests often mean life or death now. I'm their bloody martyr and scapegoat and..." He was quiet for a while... choosing the next words carefully, "I went into the army just as the gulf wars began kid... I was nineteen, like you and it nearly killed me. When you come back from the things you do... no ones going to be able to save you but yourself. I can't teach you squat, can't help you unless it's what you want."
A lump filled my throat, "what if it's too late for me."
"It was definitely too late for me kid, but I found a life and even in this broken world you can too."
I don't know what came over me but the next log fell out of my hands and I hugged the old man who reminded me so much of Roger, my family so long gone.
  He hesitated, surprised but hugged me a bit tighter after a moment, "it's ok kid, you're going to make it... just one day at a time," he breathed pushed me away to look my face over. "You're just a kid... they're the monsters, if you keep thinking that you are, that's when they win."
I looked down at the snow ashamed for all the things I've said, done and cowered from. It's why I ran from the Silents, why I ran from home the day they shot them.
I'm broken in so many ways, but hearing that have me at least a sliver of hope. "What if they come looking for me here John?"
"Then I'll put a bucket full of lead in them, don't fret so much... it's not your job to worry about those things, it's mine."
"But..."
"You're still young, that's the whole point of this conversation, you're under my roof and if you do your part I'll help protect you. Now run on and see if Tom's gone and fallen into the lake, some days I swear he's more fish than human."
A grin spread over my once white lips, Tom did tend to understand fish more than people.
He frowned down at my wrist suddenly though as I went to leave, the brand having given him pause. To the Silents I wasn't anything but that brand, a slave, pawns... we were all just bloody pawns...
"If you ever want that scar sliced..."
"it's better I remember... that way I don't ever turn into them."
He put the ax down and patted my shoulder. "You are a good kid, nothing can change that while your here." I nodded looking at my toes. "Promise me this though, you must never tell Tom what happened on the street, or what would've happened. He's embarrassed enough. I know enough of the Silents to know they would've recruited him like that or left him to die."
I nodded, that seemed easier anyways. How could I tell Tom what they would've done to him, the long hot nights without food in the trucks, people turning constantly from dehydration. It would snap my new friend in two.
John sighed, "that's enough wood splitting for tonight, let's get back inside."
I nodded and helped carry the wood to the house. Tom  sat on the porch with freshly caught trout, grinning ear to ear. "He seems proud." I said and John nodded, "He always does, what did I say about gills?"
I snorted,  it was easy enough to believe with him holding five fish on a chain. We went into the small house and John said, "I'll go cook these up, you two get cleaned up." I started back to my room without any other explanation. My room wasn't much, it had once been their guest room before day one, and it still remained the same, besides for my assortment of knives on the dresser and fresh clothes folded neatly on top of my pack. Even the small bed with a quilt and pillow seemed untouched. I just slept with my black fleece blanket. It had stayed with me all this time, the scent of home still lingered somehow. I'd not trade it for anything.
I changed out of my cold wet clothes and hung them on a hook to dry before pulling on an old sweater and stale jeans at the bottom of my drawer easily enough. Soon I'd have to find some more clothes, these were being torn to shreds naturally... and worst of all I can't sew.
I headed back into the main room to find John coughing a bit too much. "Choking?" I asked concerned and he shook his head.
"Just all that wood I think, here, mind cooking?"
"Not a problem, fair warning I ain't as good as you all."
Tom snorted from his chair, pouring his dad a cup of tea.
"What now fish boy?" I asked.
"Nothing, have fun," he mocked expecting dinner to burn.
I smiled, I should burn his but that would be too petty, I'd get him back later.