Serenity (The Child Catcher/OC)

Prologue

Nimble fingers stitched the thicker fabric with ease, the thread flowing through with years of technique and precision. The movement resembled that of water, calm and patient. A knot was tied at the end and the remaining string snipped. The woman stood back from the mannequin to examine her handiwork, a soft smile gracing her features in approval.

"Pa?" A low grumble met her ears. "Madame Caffe's dress is ready."

"What do you want me to do about it?" The woman held in her sigh, head kept downcast as she passed by the grumpy father to the front of their stand.

"Here you go, miss." The dress was delicately placed into the older woman's arms.

"How much?"

"One lev." The customer grumbled and placed the coins into her hand. The seamstress just sighed and put it away, making her way back into the petite shop.

"You seen your mother yet?"

"Not yet." She turned to see her worrying father and offered a weak smile of reassurance. "The market's probably more busy than usual, is all." The woman collected stray fabrics, throwing them into a nearby basket.

"Yeah, whatever." Her father waved off with another grumble. She waited a few seconds longer to see if he had anything else to say, then sat down at her sewing bench to resume a side project. She threaded the machine, adjusting the fabric so it rested beneath it just the way she wanted before she began pumping with her foot.

The fabric moved steadily beneath her hands, losing herself in the sound of her most prized possession. She was almost finished with her fourth section when she heard a loud crash behind her. She shrieked when the needle stabbed through her fingertip, yanking away from the machine. Hand clutched to her chest she grabbed bandages and a bottle of alcohol from nearby to quickly dress the wound.

When she finished she turned towards the cause of panic to see her father stood angrily over a 'fallen' mannequin, clenching and unclenching his fists. She began to take deeper breaths, almost panting as she watched the scene before her anxiously. Refusing to make eye contact with the man, her finger throbbed heavily. Nothing she couldn't handle as far as she was concerned. He mumbled something incoherently.

"Pa -?"

"Where is she!" He thrashed, swiping one of their end tables clean as everything on top of it cluttered to the floor. "Where is she!" He continued. The seamstress began to creep her way to the entrance of the shop, her father's shouts turning into sobs by the time she was able to leave. She aimlessly wandered through the plaza to the markets and shops in search of her mother, bystanders looking on in irritation or disgust as she passed. She sighed in relief at the sight of her, water pooling in her eyes.

"Ma!"

"Mary? Liebling, whatever is the matter?"

"Pa, he - he's having a fit, he -" She cut herself off in panic as she tried to catch her breath. Her mother quickly paid the man she was talking to and brought them to a corner away from prying eyes.

"Oh, dear," She took a cloth and wiped her daughter's face. "What's he on about this time?"

"You." She sniffed and felt her mother's hand still. "He was getting worried because you were taking a while, I tried to reason with him, but he just - he - he wouldn't -"

"You did what you could, liebling. Don't you worry." She gently pushed her basket into Mary's hands to which she accepted. "Now, do me a favor and finish up the shopping for me. I'll handle your father."

"Ma -"

"I don't want to hear it. The longer we wait the worse he'll get, you know how he is." She gave Mary a quick kiss on the side of her head.

"Be careful." Her mother nodded and turned to leave, rushing back home as Mary watched her figure disappear in the thinning crowd. She hesitated to leave, then decided it was best she didn't stall any longer and made her way back to the market.

By the time she finished the sun was setting and most stands were closing down. All that was left on the streets were stragglers either going on a stroll or rushing back to their own homes. She held the basket closer to herself when she caught sight of their oh-so-humble abode, stalking as she entered. Seeing no one in the shop, she cautiously walked up the small ladder-like stairs to their living area and peaked into the room. Her parents sat at the dining table eating their dinner quietly. Though it was anything but a comfortable silence.

Mary finished climbing and made her way over to their cupboard to put away what was in the basket, doing her best to make as little noise as humanly possible. A chair screeched along the wooden floor that jolted her, footsteps growing louder behind her to place dishes in the nearby sink before they faded into a different room. She took a deep breath in relief, turning to face her mother when she noticed a bruise starting to form on her wrist.