The Untouchables

Chapter Ten: Lynn

 I could hear the small, fuzzy, static sounds coming from the radio on the mantle, it almost sounded like music. A younger version of my Mother was sitting on the stairs, watching and smiling. She was giving a weak smile, and she looked tired. Her stomach was big, and rounded, no doubt contributing to her exhaustion.

A Man was holding my little hands, showing me how to dance. He guided me across the tile in his boots, leading me with his arms. I was too little to remember what he looked like, but I could tell he was laughing, and he was making my Mother laugh too. I couldn't remember anything before that day, but I really wondered where this joy went. The Man danced with me nearly all day, and I stood there watching. Watching me dance.

Then the scene shifted into the hallway of my home. My Mother locked herself in her room, in a hysteria of tears. I was begging her to come out and feed us while my little brother clung to me as I screamed at her. I couldn't have been more than six, so I certainly wasn't old enough to work, leaving our food supply in our mother's hand, and we hadn't eaten in a while.

I didn't have a choice.

I could only stand there watching myself banging on the door of her room, as she just laughed out of insanity. The screams and laughter grew fainter and fainter, as the scene grew darker and darker.

I woke up with a start, with my eyes wide.

Since that day, I was forced to grow up. I had to grow up to survive, to keep myself and Jayden alive, from starving. As my Mother would scream in her hysteria, she'd shout that everything was my fault and blame me for our problems, or even hit me. I knew it was just her broken mind speaking and acting, and she never meant it, and she always apologized for what she said, but it still stung sometimes.

She'd lock herself in her room for days at a time, leaving me, as a little girl, to take care of myself, and eventually, my baby brother. We received zero support from the government while my mother didn't work. They just decreased our food rations for those months in retaliation. It wasn't until I was working after school everyday that they returned our food supply.

Mostly.

We still relied on our neighbors sometimes to feed us when we ran out of food.

I didn't remember much about before my little brother was born, besides little, hazy memories like that. My earliest memories were those of my Mother screaming at me, or taking care of my brother, but nothing before the age of five. I couldn't even remember the face of my father.

I couldn't make my mind remember.

Maybe I didn't want to remember.

I didn't know.

Scenes of those days continued to cycle through my head, but then I realized where I was.

I didn't actually know.

My last memory I had from the past few days was running through the forest and slamming into something. I must've blacked out. I frantically looked around, trying to decipher where I was. I seemed to be underneath a tree, surrounded by roots, on cold, damp dirt.

I searched for the pocket knife I had brought with me. I found it in the pocket of my leggings, exactly where I left it.

Whoever brought me here, clearly didn't do a good job at searching me.

Out of fear, I clamped my wings down to my back to not make any extra noise with them potentially hitting something. I rolled over, and tried to get to my feet, but I was immediately sent back to the ground by the stabbing pain in my ankle.

So instead, I tried to crawl to my freedom.

With my pocket knife still in hand, I inched towards the opening in the roots surrounding me.