The Whistle of Steel

Chapter 1--Humble Beginnings

The taste of blood can cause one to reflect back on their actions quite often. That's how it should be. Consequences in general, I mean. Something that causes you to think back a bit, mull over what you did to put yourself in your predicament, and make future choices to avoid such things again.

For example, the first time you touch a fire. The pain from the burn makes you think about it again, deciding that next time you won't get so close. Or the dull ache of hunger that makes you decide that maybe you shouldn't give up so quickly to earn a bit more coin that day.

Or maybe the taste of blood in your mouth from two split lips and a tooth knocked a bit loose, constantly having to spit the blood out and wondering if the bleeding will stop. Times like that makes you wonder if maybe you should have tried to talk things over peacefully. Or me, I guess. Then again, I'm not sure if having so much time afterward to stew is such a good idea. It leaves time for the pain to go away, and anger and hate to take its place.

And boy, do I hate the man who gave me this pain. I think about what I would do to him if I had the chance, how I would make him pay for every time he's done this to me. And that shouldn't be what I'm thinking about. I should instead plan how to avoid the fight next time. How to keep him just happy enough that he doesn't decide to 'teach me a lesson'. Except I know what I should do. Just keep my mouth shut, and don't provoke him.

I wince as the sting of disinfectant touches my split lips, and I look up at Zachary, the young boy holding the wet rag. He smiles thinly at me, an attempt to encourage me, I guess. "It's not as bad as last time, Fenn." He says, his voice a high pitch. "I think it might heal before the week's out."

I hum in answer, not wanting to irritate the cuts any more by talking. Zachary continues to dab at the cuts. He's a small boy, only nine years old. Too young, in my opinion, to be exposed to the slum life that he was born to. Well, that's not entirely true. He does have a place he could call home, but for some reason, he likes to follow me around in his free time.

He probably gets bullied at the orphanage , I think. Nothing I can do about that. I can't even handle my own 'bullies'. One day I will. I think back to the homemade knife hidden under the crate next to my shack. One day, I'll be rid of him. And all the rest that follow him. I'll be able to walk freely through the city without hiding my face.

"Sally says hi, by the way." Zachary says, breaking me from my thoughts, "I passed her shop on the way here. She asked why you haven't stopped by today. I says 'I don't know, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.' Then she tells me, she says, 'Make sure and tell him I says hi, and that I have some errands for him if he's up to it.'"

I hum again in thanks, and try not to swallow the pool of blood in my mouth.

"Do you have coin?" Zachary asks, looking up. I shake my head. "I can lend you some coppers if'n you want." I shake my head again. I'll die before I have to borrow from a nine year-old boy who needs it more than I do. Skipping a few meals never hurt anybody, and it sure won't be my first time doing it.

"Okay," He answers, a little disheartened, "That's okay." He finishes brushing my face and puts the rag back. "Finished." He declares, lifting up a cracked mirror. I look at it, hoping the damage isn't too noticeable.

It is. My left eye is swollen purple, making it very difficult to pick out the light yellow pupils that are normally so easy to notice. My normally oval-shaped face looks more like a circle now, with all the swelling. My black hair almost looks brown because of the amount of dirt mixed in with it. My lips are also swollen to the point that it looks like I was born disabled, and even though the blood was all washed clean, I can see a new trail leaking down the corner of my mouth. I tenderly feel around my mouth with my tongue. No new missing teeth. That's good. Lately it's been a little difficult to eat on my left side, with only 3 molars left.