THE PAWN [H.S]

♟ Prologue ♟

January 1st, 1998

The world did not seem as evil.

A heart-warming picturesque crossed the ocean as I sat, awaiting the waves grazing barely by my feet. All so kind and disbelievingly radiant that it got physically hard to take my eyes off the horizon, to read the book that lay forgotten on my lap. 

I came here quite often, really, whenever my heart grunted, hearing not-so-pleasant noises filling my house — I would quietly slip through the back door praying she wouldn't notice and find my peace in this quiet invisible place carelessly thriving alone, just like me. But unlike an ocean a billion years old, I was just a newly turned seventeen-year-old girl, not merely as depressed, although there wasn't a handful amount of joy left for a fatherless girl with an alcoholic of a mother, who was definitely not capable of parenting her own child except for moments when she wished to. Also not hearing from my brother who had only ever cared for me, stretching this long, was certainly not helping either. But I tried to see the silver lining every time and help my mother as much as I could—working two jobs, balancing school, and doing housework during the night. It was easier when my brother was around, he made a good income in New York and would send us checks every month despite the fact that my mother spent half of it away driving her addiction, but it was still enough to support us somewhat a healthy life. 

I just hoped he would come back. 

The sky was getting dark and I knew that I had to get back, with no idea if my mother was going to be home tonight. A sigh left my mouth unprepared and I picked up my book, going for my way back to the real world of horror and disgrace. It was winter, there weren't many jackets that I owned. This was one of the bad ones as I tried to save the two good pieces for when or if I had the fortune to attend something reasonably valuable, which did not happen quite often for people like me. 

The soft hum of music playing from my iPod continued cherishing the sweet breeze coming from the southwest. The chilly air hit my face, with little to see in those dim lights of the street lamps I crossed by. The sea roared beside me and somehow the world did not seem that cruel anymore, there was pleasure in the violence and comfort in the chaos. 

As if I was nothing more than a pawn in this game of chess, troubled and trapped in a dark square, with no way to reach the other side, cutting the hindrance dead — but yet I wished, I just wished I could. I wished I could choose to be a queen instead. 

Some dreams were fantasies and it was better to keep them that way.

I rang the bell, realizing that my mother was indeed home after all. She was shouting as she came downstairs, my iPods drowning out the intensity.

"Meera, do you know the time? It's eleven. I thought you'd gone to bed." Her jaw visibly tightened, and she reached for my hand, swiftly pulling me inside.

Her nails sank in so deep into my wrist, I tried not to hiss.

"I did not know you'd be home, I'm sorry. There was hardly any chawal for two but I made you a little with some curry from last night. Would you like to try it? I wanted to wait for you."

The expression on her face could be read as a little guilt, anger, and maybe regret, but most prominently, it was disgust. "Why would you wait for me? When do we ever have dinner together, bewakoof? Now what am I supposed to get you, it's almost midnight." She sighed and threw me the key to lock the door. "Make something for yourself and see what you can find in the trash. I'm going to sleep."

My beating heart almost stopped, almost. "You ate all of it?" I whispered, knowing I shouldn't have, but it was too late.

Her eyes were red, and the raging smell of whiskey encircled me the closer she came. My back hit the door, I tried to fumble with the lock, but it wouldn't open. My insides were screaming, and I reminded myself that it wasn't the first time. I would live. I would live. Tomorrow, the sun would rise again, and everything would be just as normal. She would hug me and make me breakfast, I would apologize, and then she would smile, she would smile at me. It would be normal.