chapter 7

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TRIAL 1

      Day 4

SWIRLS of greys and blues twist in knots under the influence of the clouds, illustrating a painting that no artist could paint better than the gods themselves. The darkness had only recently engulfed the light but already was the sky brooding in angry seas, accompanied by the unpleasant breeze which banged against the unsteady window doors.

They opened and closed, pushing the hinges beyond measures to which they were unable to handle and yet they held on by a single clasped finger.

"For heaven's sake, insufferable child."

Shut.

The skies were no longer paintings in the household, blocked by glass and the hands of a young girl whose blue eyes shined in rage and whose braids hung below her shoulders. The winds no longer flew past the tips of her nightgown; no longer able to peak beneath with the tiniest push.

The blue's of her iris didn't match the browns of her brother's, who sat, legs crossed, beneath her with a cheeky smile across his face. He flashed her a dimple, wishing the wind were here to push over his dirty blonde hair.

He was petit at the ripe age of four. A significant difference in age to the stern girl stood above him and the slightly elder boy crouched in the dark corner of the room. "How many times do I have to tell you to shut the window before dawn. You know ma and pa haven't gotten those heaters yet!"

"They're out of stock." A boy, younger than the girl but older than the small boy sat nonchalantly in the corner of his bed, a book in one hand and a cream cheese bagel in the other. He kept his eyes strictly stuck to the page.

The girl rolled her eyes at the ceiling, placing her hands on her waist. "Thanks for the newsflash, Einstien." Huffing, she stomped over to her bed, directly opposite his in the wide room. Beside her, stood a miniature version of her bed. It was also blue.

"Did ma buy the paint yet?" The older boy asked, gaze still glued to the sheet of paper while he chewed on a piece of his bagel. The girl collapsed on her bed in a 'huff', causing the springs beneath the mattress to squeak threateningly.

"They should just get us new beds, honestly." She mumbled in annoyance. "It's not like they're poor or anything."

"I want a pink bed." The young boy giggled. "We know, we know."

One of the young boy's teddys flew at her face, smacking her on the nose. Immediately sitting up, she clenched her hand into it and threw it back at him, making sure to aim for the head, knowing it wouldn't hurt him. "Watch it, squirt." She hissed, collapsing back on the creaky mattress.

Whimpers orchestrated from the middle of the room, echoing off the hollow walls.

"You cannot be serious."

"You know he's sensitive."

"It's a teddy bear!"

"James dear, why are you crying?"

An elegant woman in her late thirties scurried into the room to scoop the whimpering boy up between her arms. She shot a sharp look at the two remaining children. The older boy finally tore his eyes away from the novel, putting his hands, one containing the half-eaten bagel, up in defense. He pointed his empty hand at the girl. "Willa did it."

The woman's angry gaze shifted to the girl who was now glaring at her other brother. She turned to her mother. "I simply threw the teddy at him, because he wanted it."

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