Chipped Heartz & Broken Smilez

Gold Card

My family lived in grid T-73. The manual labour district. Smoke, thick and voluptuous, obscured the tops of apartment buildings. People stood on the sidewalks, wearing patched clothing. T-grid residents rarely changed their clothes unless the cloth began to disintegrate in their hands. We tried to conserve whatever we had and spent only when necessary. If we outgrew our uniforms, we added length with mismatched pieces of cloth, a needle, and thread. Children never complained because this was the only life they knew, and everyone around them lived the same way.

The streetlights made the pavement sparkle like a long black gemstone. Adults waited for the bus, and kids lingered, hanging near the front steps of buildings wearing neutral colours; black, grey, and brown—vibrant colours were for the rich. The police officers would beat us if we wore colours other than what befitted our station.

A delicious aroma came from a soup restaurant; stewed peas and meat loaded with rich taste. I didn't stop to enjoy a bowl of good food. I walked as quickly as I could. I needed to get back home, open my books, and study to get into a good university. I needed to become a doctor and get into a higher grid to enhance my quality of life. I didn't want to end up like her. I couldn't end up like her.

***

"Your mother never existed, and if you want to keep your good standing in society, you will go home without making a fuss." Lines creased the doctor's forehead as he spoke. His black eyes were so devoid of emotion that it made my chest ache worse. Tears blurred half my vision. My mother's blood stained my hands as I stood and grabbed Doctor Brenan's collar, not caring about the difference between our stations. Leaving their post near the wings, the hospital's four security guards, draped in grey uniforms, moved towards us.

"You failed," I told the doctor, my voice cracking with desperation as hot tears washed my cheeks. "You couldn't save her, could you?"

It was easier for them to say someone didn't exist than to admit that the rigid rules of this place drove the victim to commit suicide.

"There was no one for me to save." Dr. Brenan raised his hand, indicating that the guards shouldn't apprehend me. They paused, obeying his orders. He was their superior, after all. "What you should do," Dr. Brenan said, his voice softer and more compassionate, "is go home and rest. You have had a long day."

"If my mother didn't exist, how did I come to be?"

He stared at me for a long time, quiet. "Go home, Avah."

His words bounced off my chest. Our country was one of the best places to live. No one was unhappy, and no one ever killed themselves or others. It was the safest place to travel to, and the best thing about it was my mother had never existed.

My brother threw a fit by the reception desk; he took a painting from the wall and tossed it on the ground. He roared and flung empty chairs across the room. They bounced off the walls and floor. Patients and their guardians retreated to avoid getting hit. Doctor Brenan said nothing when the guards tackled my brother to the ground and beat him with batons till he went still.

My hands released the doctor's collar, and I took a few steps toward the exit. "Madness sure runs in that family," one of the nurses in pink said.

My brother's cries were loud and filled with agony, as if he had been stabbed. The security guards managed to restrain him long enough to cuff him. Unseen knives pierced my chest, poking holes in my heart.

Was living supposed to hurt like this?

Everyone's eyes were on me.

I heard my mother say, 'Hide it. Shove your feelings so far down no one will ever accuse you of dissent or trying to go against the governing bodies. Stay alive, my child. Smile even when you feel like crying.' I closed my eyes, muting the noise that filled my head and the chatter outside my skull. When I opened them, I wasn't affected by their pitiful gazes. Though rivulets of warm water crossed my cheeks, a smile came to my lips.

I was as happy as I could ever be.

My mother had never existed; I glanced at the red liquid coating my hands and shirt.

I had never heard her voice or felt her warm hug.

I had never loved her.

***

T-73 had one river. I usually visited it after work but began to visit it more often after society erased my mother, and our neighbours began to act as if they had never met her. Photos of her had been removed from high school picture books and her friends' photo albums.

Now, she was simply a phantom of my imagination.

I sat on the wet grass by the river bank, not caring about the damp cold that permeated the fabric of my pants.

The water was greenish brown, contaminated with the dye from nearby textile factories. It wasn't safe to play in, but its presence was comforting nonetheless. The grass itself was clean; people doing penance for minor infractions kept our land free from litter after work or school.

I hugged my knees and noticed a girl standing in the shallow water. She had placed her shoes on the grass behind her, socks sticking out of her sneakers. The wind combed her black hair, making it ripple like a silk ribbon. Her form was slender, chest almost flat, tucked into an unflattering grey dress that, as per regulation, reached past her knees. When she turned to me, I saw her dark yet enchanting eyes. She watched me as I watched her, and slowly a smile spread across her thin lips. "Hi, I'm Bella."

"Avah."

"You alright?"

"No. I don't think I am."

Bella walked over to me, sat down with a heavy sigh, and held my hand. "Better?"

Though we had just met, the warmth of another human, and her smile, coupled with the feeling that I didn't need to pretend to be someone happy helped to ease some of the burdens I felt. "Strangely enough. It does."

We fell into a comfortable silence, and watched the river, listening to breeze as it rustled the leaves of nearby trees.

***