Revolution

THREE

“It hurts!” I screamed, as my right leg throbbed. I could feel tears run down my face and my dignity run away as I pulled up my skirt. My tears began flowing more freely as I looked away quickly. I didn’t want to know why my leg was covered in blood. My empty stomach heaved as my gag reflex began working.

            The boy had made it out of the train with small scraps over his face and arms. He was lucky to have hit the dirt road, while I hit the rocks. “It hurts!” I wailed, I couldn’t stop myself. The boy started to reach out for my leg stiffly but chickened out and looked at me with a pained expression. I began crying harder, this time not only because of my leg but the fact that we were only two kids and that we could die right there and no one would know.

            After my tears dried up, I realized that the boy was gone. My heart clenched. I was really alone. I had no one. My eyes began to itch to release more tears, I was really a coward.  I lying down I stared at the sky and let sleep take over.

            I woke to sunlight flitting over my eyelids. I turned away from the source and curled up into the blanket. I sat up quickly as soon as I registered that i was in a bed. But that wasn’t possible unless I was home...and the whole thing was a dream. I  looked around. It was a small bedroom. It had very simple wooden furniture. I stilled wondering how I got there or what happened. Rails. Green eyes. Fruit. Boy. What happened after that?

            The door creaked open and I began to fling my legs over the bed. Reaching for whatever I could touch on the nightstand.

            “Wait! Don’t move!” A voice told me. It was the boy from before only this time he was looking healthier and well rested. He ran over to my side, “Lie down again. Else you stitches may become undone.”

            I opened my mouth and shut them. The boy got the hint and ran out the room before returning a few seconds later with a glass of water. He pressed the edge to my lips as if I couldn’t drink it by myself. “Are you feeling better?” He asked when I turned my face away from the glass and took it away from him. I could handle a glass by myself.

            To my surprise, the glass felt heavy and I would’ve dropped it if not for the boy reaching over and taking the glass. “Here let me help.” He said and pressed the glass to my lips again. This time I didn’t resist. My body felt hot with frustration and anger at myself for feeling so weak. I chugged the water down. He took the glass away and looked at me with big eyes.

            “Where am I?” I asked, without waiting for pleasantries “What happened? Why’d you bring me here? Where am I?” I asked, roughly. I stood up and nearly fell. I used the wall for balance. Why did I feel so bad?”What did you do to me?” I hissed.

            “Don’t be hard on him.” My eyes flickered towards the voice. It was a really skinny old women, all her features were covered in wrinkles. If it wasn’t for her smile I would’ve thought that she was a crazy. “Please seat. You scare Vinnie.”

            Vinnie? Who’s Vinnie? The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the next looking uncomfortable. His name is Vinnie.  A sudden urge to laugh overcame me. My life had became out of control in what appeared to be only two days. It was so funny.  Everything was so funny.

            A sharp slap to my face brought me back to earth. The old women started at me with firce eyes. “You sit down. Your scaring Vinnie.” The old women said, with the same choppy accent as before. I was stunned. I had never been slapped before. She took this moment to pull me towards the bed and forced me to sit. “You gravely injured.” She explained. “Leg infected. Bad. Vinnie came to me. And let me fix you up. He sat by you like a hawk.” She used her hands, in wild gestures. I had a hard time following the story but got the gist. “He.” She pointed to Vinnie. “Saved you.” She poked my chest. “Be nice.   You had fever some me nice. Otherwise, you out.”

            I stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. The woman huffed in frustration before she reached out and began pulling on my skirt. I immediately pulled away and shuffled across the leg. “What are you doing?” I asked, and then stared down at my dress. It was different from what I originally wore. It left like smoke.  

            The lady rolled her eyes. “You hurt. I check your cut.” She told me, “Relax. You in no danger.” She leaned over and pulled up my skirt and this time I didn’t fight. But I watched her with suspicion. She pressed her fingers against the flesh line that I assumed originally the area the stitches were placed. I studied the line. It reached the tip of my tight to inches below my knee. The woman continued to work in silence.

 From the corner of my eyes I saw Vinnie leave.         When he came back with a tray with a tin bowl on it, smoke drifted up from it. He came over and extended it towards me. “Soup.” He explained. Guilt for yelling at him clawed at me.

“Thanks.” I murmured, but hissed as soon as my finger came in contact with the bowl. It was burning. The boy looked really discouraged so I ignored my pain and took it from him. It came with no spoon I blew into it to cool it. The woman continued to poke around the stitches as if searching, before straightening. “You rest.” She said, before leaving Vinnie and me alone.

I sipped the soup. It tasted mostly like water with a hint of something sweet. The boy was looking down his feet. I took a few more sips gathering my thoughts before I cleared my throat.

“So your name is Vinnie.” I said, softly staring into the liquid in the bowl.

“Actually it’s Vincent and your name is...?”

“Wren.”

We didn’t really talk about our past. In fact, it was like our past never existed. The old woman, who we called, June, Vinnie and I lived together and it appeared life was perfect again...well as perfect as it could be. After all, a little voice in the back of my head would also taunt me reminding me that I was once abandoned and I could be again.

I forced myself not to think of my old like. I didn’t want to remember it. Every time I did my heart got heavy and I always wondered if father ever missed me or if my siblings even noticed that I was gone.  I told myself that I hated father and that I didn’t need him. As days went by, I took pleasure in the fact that I was beginning to forget the faces of my old life.

June had a very small garden but we all managed to make it work. At least until winter rolled by. The old wooden cabin was cold. We all shared one bed and the used a heavy blanket. Unfortunately, the blanket was small so it was impossible to share. So Vinnie and I took turns sharing the blanket with June while the other had to use the thinner blanket.

One night while I had the thinner blanket I was staring at Vinnie and wondering about life. Vinnie had grown so had I and June was not getting any younger. Sometimes when her loud snores ceased I questioned whether or not if she was still alive.

            Vinnie’s hair had grown and almost reached his shoulders. Staring at him reminded me of his sister. Who I knew nothing about other than the name he screamed while she was dying.  Marie. I wondered what kind of girl she was. If she was a nice sister and if her personality was quiet and shy like Vinnie or loud.

            It bothered me how much I cared about Marie. Maybe it was because she was my age when she died and because I could tell when she was dying that she wanted to live. It was different from my mother who had taken her own life like a coward. I hated my mother. And I hated myself during the times my mind wondered.  Sometimes I questioned whether the life I was living now was even real.