>•~Falling Upwards~•<

Chapter Twenty Six: Rushed

Breathe:
Breathe in,
And breathe out.

Remind yourself:
You are stronger than you seem,
And more loved than you know.

——

(Unknown...)

~Hebe~

She lifted her head from the comfort of her pillow. The sounds of footsteps echoed through her home's walls. Curiosity gently lifted her up as she pushed the covers off of herself.

Her feet made a small thud as they landed on the cold stone. The footsteps suddenly stopped. She could tell this was late at night; why was anyone awake?

She waited a couple heartbeats for the footsteps to continue onwards. She fixed her tousled black hair out of her face. Then she slowly snuck towards the source of the noise.

She padded almost silently out of her bare bedroom. Loud scowls and yells sounded outside. She recognized her mother's voice.

She peaked her little head out of the doorway. She immediately caught sight of her mom's silhouette. She let out a loud gasp, "Mommy?"

The yelling ceased. What looked to be a man outside of their home began to laugh hysterically. He then stopped, and began to demand to her mother using weird, sharp words on how he wanted to see his daughter.

Her mom muttered something to him. She wanted to see who this strange guy was. His hair was dark like hers, whereas both of her parents had paler hair.

She quickly and swiftly darted down the stairs. Her small feet seemed to almost fly down the steps. Her mother held her arm in front of her to stop her from reaching the strange man.

The man bent down to reach her size. He gave a bright, friendly smile. He held out his hand to her, and for a moment, she only focused on his hand.

She then turned her head to her mother's side — She had made her decision. Her mom shakily pulled her closer; sobs flowed from her.

"Leave," Her mom whispered. "I don't want to have to do this."

He began to protest. "What's going on?" She mumbled, and turned her head back to the man and the outside world.

Her mom turned her head away. "Don't look. Focus on Mommy's shiny rings."

However, of course she turned to look. Her mom lifted up a long silver tool, her finger rested on a loop. The man began to shake his head, and back away.

The moon reflected its gaze on the dangerous thing. She saw her round, intimidating yellow hues. Sharp like a wolf's harsh eyes.

Her mother's finger pulled on the loop. A loud bang sounded, and she hissed from the sharp pain it caused to her. The man stumbled to the ground.

He cried out his sorries, and again lifted his hand in a desperate attempt to reach for them. She felt pity for the man — He seemed so nice, why was her mom hurting him?

Her mother let out a deep scowl. Her grip on her deepened, and she let out another shot. This time the man fell, and did not get up.

She turned to her; jittery from the noise. "Why did you do that? He looked like a nice guy,"

"He's not a good man, Hebe. He's a dirty-coat. Dirty-coats will hurt us when given the chance."

~*~

My mother, Fauna, ties my dark hair into a small bun. She pulls a dark cap over my head. I giggle — I look like I'm bald!

"Mom, what are you doing?" I ask; still giggling. I tilt my head to the side, but she quickly fixes it back to its original position.

"Well," She starts, "Your father is coming back from his long trips that men take. He doesn't like your... darker hair, and since this is your eighth birthday, I'm giving you a new look,"

"But I like my hair. I think it's pretty," I murmur as I wrap a strand of it around my finger.

She scowls, as she pulls over a brownish-blond set of hair. "Your hair is dirty."

I stay quiet. I'm a little confused on how my hair is dirty. So, she continues to explain this more, "Listen, Hebe, there are white-coats, and there are dirty-coats. White-coats are civilized, and tame, while dirty-coats are ruthless, wild, rabid, and not pure."

I blink at her through the mirror. "But what does this have to do with hair?"

She sighs, "Dirty-coats have dark hair like yours, while white-coats have clean, lighter colored hair."

I stare at her with wide eyes. I'm dirty. She laughs at my expression, and shakes her head.

"So this means I'm a dirty-coat." I mumble.

"No, not really. I'm not a dirty-coat, am I?" I shake my head. "And you're my daughter. So the answer is, not really. By wearing this clean hair, you'll be a white-coat."

"Oh. Okay." I nod and give a little grin.

I play with the wig. It is quite rough and itchy, but I guess it looks prettier than my dirty hair.

She stares hard at my brownish-yellow eyes through the mirror. She mutters something along the lines of: "I don't know what to do with your eyes though."

Mom has the prettiest light, sky-blue eyes. I've never really seen the sky, as girls aren't allowed outside until they're married off. Even then, we have to stay inside, as we have a domestic role in our community. However, I have seen the sky in some of the picture books I have gotten for my past birthdays.

Curiosity gets to me once again. I remember something about dirty-coats awhile back, when I was really little. I haven't been told too much about that, until now.

I blurt, "Why are there white-coats and dirty-coats?"

She continues to fix some of the darker hair poking out. "Well, we live in our own society on the outskirts of our large, beautiful tribe called Breeze Tribe. In Breeze Tribe there are different ranks on how pure you are, based off of the same traits we use.

We use these traits to differ the more pure people, from the dirty people whose minds are tainted to committing bad actions. However, not too long ago, our tribe has changed, and has become more inclusive. This sudden decision will taint our home, so we moved as a community to save the decency of our home tribe.

I, myself, will state that I was a leader in this action for righteousness. However, as our old ways have stated, us women will take care of the home." I yawned from the long lecture. This was kinda confusing, but I guess it made sense. "That is also why we have more proper names, while a dirty-coat might be named... I don't know, Tree."

She turned to me again; finally done with fixing my hair. "Do you understand?"

I gave a nod and smiled at her, but I am met with a cold, icy stare.

——

A/N: i dunno why im thinking of this, but the poem-thing that I always write at every chapter reminds me of a really good show called "Bodies" where the characters are often told: "know you are loved."

It's really good, and I definitely recommend watching it!!

-You know who.... Or do you??