It was at night that they took him, when we heard the shouts and the bangs on our door. We were so confused that they had chosen him. He wasn't a child, he was in his fourties for heavens sake. But they still took him, they still took a father from his children.
The next morning I was expecting it to have all been a dream, a nightmare. That my father would be in the kitchen, arms wrapped around my mothers waist while she prepared breakfast of, my favourite, apple and watermelon porridge. But instead I was greeted by an empty stove and shards of glass clumsily displayed on the floor. A loud sob came from my parents bedroom and that's when I knew, my father had been taken aswell.I awake, sweat trickling down my face. I sit upright and peel the dampened sheets that are soaked with fear. I look to the clock, late again. I don't like school. They just talk about how amazing our Region, Pecunia, is and how it is seen as the most superior of all the Regions, even though everyone likes the region of Cupiditas because they are all delirious and in love. Whereas Pecunia is all about money and work.
My mother has already taken my little brother, Oskarr, to nursery. I hear a knock at the door, which must be Mahi, also late. When I reach it and unlatch the hinge, her eyes are red and puffy, lips swollen and torn.
"Rough night?" I ask with a slight grunt of amusement. Since both of her parents were were killed by the Slitters, named that as they have a tendency to slit the throats of those who dare get in their way, Mahi would cry herself to sleep and rip the skin off her lips, letting the blood soak her mouth, fueling her anger towards Edgar Potestatis-Mali the leader of the Slitters and aspiring king.
"You could call it that." She mumbles but gives a discreet laugh at the end. A smile breaks across her face. When she does this it always reminds me of the nights we spent on the rooftops, her trying to comfort the girl whose sister was killed. The girl who, at ten years old, had to look after her pregnant mother and exhausted father who were overcome with grued at the murder of their first born child.
"Let's head off. My mother has already left with Oskarr and we have missed the shuttle." I say, grabbing my green velvet bag. We start the twenty minute commute to school that passes Oskarrs school and mothers studio, when we see a crowd building outside the nursery gates. A scream rips through the spring air, grabbing my attention. That can only belong to one person. A scream that I've only heard twice in my life, when my sister was taken then my father. A scream that can only belong to my dearest mother.°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
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