Tomorrow's Way

Prologue

Prologue

She sat in wait of her father, listening to the quiet thuds of the rain on the roof as she did. He would be home from work soon, looking for something to make him feel better after a long week of working. She worked quickly, hoping the meal would draw his attention away from her.

It wasn’t a wonderful meal, but it was the best a seven-year old could do all by herself. A stale baguette, a small bowl of onion soup, and a cup of water she had fetched from the well. She had finished setting it all down on their small, wooden table, and now she sat on one of the stools in wait of her father.

Hours ticked by and her father still hadn’t returned. She began to worry that something had happened to him, or worse, that he was coming home to cold soup. She thought about warming it up over the fire, but that would mean using more firewood than her father had allowed her to. Either way she would take the blame and be beaten for it.

Finally she heard the crunch of his feet on the gravel outside. She jumped up from the stool, anticipating the door being swung open with enough force to shake the floor. Jack Blackwell stood before her, soaked through his layers with rain. He glared at his daughter with a scowl implanted on his face. His hollow face always seemed to hold a scowl, and his grey, unwashed hair always framed it.

“My supper better not be cold.” He grunted, pushing past her to hunch the food on the table. He didn’t even have to sit down before he tested the temperature. She gulped, taking a step away from him as he turned slowly around to face her.

“Can you do nothing right, Seraphine!” Her father roared. She winced, sure that their neighbors down the road would hear his shouting. Sometimes the entire village heard him.

“I’m sorry Father I –” Seraphine didn’t finish her sentence, distracted by the bowl of onion soup that was hurling towards her. A shriek escaped her lips as she attempted to dodge it. This only resulted in soup spilling down the only good dress she owned.

Her father had thrown his soup at her in a rage, and then threw the bread in her direction. She managed to dodge the bread, but she could not escape her father’s wrath as he charged towards her. Seraphine was backed against a wall; her eyes squeezed shut as she awaited his hand to descend upon her. She knew it would come. It always did.

This time, though, Seraphine stood with her eyes squeezed shut so tight, her head began to hurt; but her father never hit her. She cracked an eye open, expecting to see her father’s face before hers. Fortunately for her, Jack Blackwell had disappeared.

Seraphine allowed herself to open both of her eyes, a frown present on her face as she looked around for her father. He couldn’t have just disappeared like that. She soon found the answer, though, when she went to take a step forward.

Her father lay dead at her feet, his face staring up at her with dead, angry eyes. Seraphine found herself screaming before her mind could tell her not to. Certainly the neighbors would hear her scream and come running to the rescue, but they would only be met with a guilty looking seven year old and her dead father. Seraphine wouldn’t be able to explain to them how he had died because she didn’t know herself how he had dropped dead in front of her.

Seraphine ran as fast as she could, instincts kicking in as she grabbed the little belongings she had and through them into a leather bag. She gathered whatever food wouldn’t go bad and added it to the sack. Her breathing was heavy as she stood in the middle of her shabby home and looked around. Seraphine scanned the room for anything else, but was met with the body of her father. She hated herself for doing it, but she knew it would be necessary.

Creeping forward, Seraphine untied the little leather pouch her father kept tied to his belt. A few gold coins jingled inside; her inheritance, it seemed.

That’s when she heard the noises. People were beginning to gather outside of their houses, asking each other if they had heard the screams. Seraphine swallowed her fear, shoulder the sack before sprinting out their back door. She ran and ran until her little feet couldn’t take her any farther. She collapsed next to a big oak tree, the adrenaline of that night’s events fading away.

The night was cold and windy and she began to shiver. Luckily she had remembered to grab the hole-filled blanket they kept by the fire, but it didn’t do much against the bitter wind that nipped at her bare legs.

As she huddled against a tree and shivered in the cold, Seraphine felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes. The reality that her father was dead and that she had finally run away from home seemed surreal to her. But even though her problems were behind her, Seraphine now had no idea where she was and no idea who to turn to for help. The idea of being alone made panic swell up inside of her.

Eventually Seraphine cried herself to sleep, her father’s dead and empty eyes haunting her dreams. She awoke hours later with a tear stained face and a pounding headache. She made the decision at that moment that she wouldn’t let herself cry over someone who caused her so much pain. She would survive on her own just fine. Seraphine wouldn’t let anyone or anything make her cry.

She never cried after that promise.