Bruises

fïvë

I could not imagine that the future I was walking toward could compare in any way to the past that I was leaving behind.

•nelson mandela•

I slowly read through my timetable, my fingers gentle on the blue paper.

I could never be anything but light on anything, not after being broken by him.

I had a shift now, I realised.

I manned my bench, standing behind it, my posture slouched.

I could never stand strong, not after being pushed down by him.

The first order came in a few minutes after for a decadent mudcake. The cook sliced a piece and slid it over to me on one of their shiny square plates.

For a little while I just stared at it.

Then came a small tapping on my shoulder, causing me to whip around.

Nobody touched my shoulder without intentions to hurt me.

His smile was kind, but I couldn't see past his features. I couldn't see past the dirty blonde hair, the sea blue eyes; I couldn't see past the features that made him look so much like my brother.

All I could see was my brother's face, leering down at me.

"Red topping, pink flowers. Icing sugar." He said, as if expecting it would portray something.

So I stood and stared again, my bruises tingling painfully.

He repeated himself.

"Oh." I said, turning to my bench and grabbing a red bottle. Squeezing slightly I drew a small oval around the cake.

"Nice. I'm Timothy."

Timothy? I thought, pinching little flowers from the pot and sticking them into the top of the cake and sprinkling it over the topping line. Too nice a name for someone so alike to him.

"Oh." I said again.

I turned around to get the icing sugar to be met by his puzzled smile. "And who are you?"

I paused, taking the shaker from the metal racks on the wall. "Olivia."

_

Lucky munchkins, you finally know her name! Is timothy a friend or foe?

Comment your answers below!

Bye til next chapter,

_wolfbell