Just Your Average Time Traveller

Reality.

Strange emotions churned inside me like roaring waves, blocking out all other sensation. I followed Cassia, somewhat blindly, as I had been doing for all my days here. Soon, I resolved, I would have to try and find my way by myself. As we passed into the Village, beyond the archway and having weaved in between small hut-like dwellings, we spotted a gathering of enormous manor houses, perhaps three or four times the size of Cicero's. I took in my surroundings, eager to learn my way around.

Children, their clothes covered in holes and stains, trudged along, staring warily up at me as I passed. I was by far the tallest here, by means of malnutrition and the fact that everyone older than ten was indoors, while the kids worked, carrying large buckets of water and peeling vegetables outside their houses. One girl came up to us with her hands cupped, eyes locked on mine.

"Do you have any change? An as or two for some milk to give to my baby brother? My mother died last week. Please, don't you have any money to give?"

The girl's eyes welled up with tears. It was like when you watch those charity adverts on TV. You know they're phony, they're designed specially to trick people into giving money. But then you can see the suffering and you know that what's happening is real. That's no trick. It's one of those moments when you debate right and wrong. Should you give, and potentially get conned? Or shoul you decline, and leave children to die, like so many others have done?

I faltered, before making my decision. I glanced at Cassia, who was staring at me intensely, judging me. I searched her unwavering gaze for some clue, some instruction. There was nothing. So, I turned and slipped my backpack off my shoulders and rested it on my knee. The entire village seemed to hold its breath, but I carried on.

I opened the zipper and reached in, my fingers grasping a something cylindrical and plastic. I pulled it out, holding it under my elbow as I replaced my backpack. Slowly, I held it out to the little girl, who looked faintly disappointed.

"This isn't money, I haven't got any on me at the minute," I told her. "But you wanted milk for your orphaned brother; here's some milk." I held out the little bottle of chocolate milkshake, hoping the girl would just thank me, take it, and leave. Oh no. Not by a long shot.

The girl frowned dishearteningly and turned to the house she had emerged from. A weedy, sunken-eyed man leaned against the wall there. The girl addressed him.

"It didn't work daddy! Can we go now?"

The man opened his mouth in evident anger, thought better of it, then closed it. "I don't know who you are," the man said in clipped tones. The girl sighed in annoyance. 

"Come off it, dad, there's no point!" And she stormed off towards him. Before I could fully watch the scene unfold, my mouth slightly open, Cassia took my hand and pulled surprisingly gently. I followed as she walked, her face turned away from me. Had I done something wrong? Of course, I'd just shown that I was gullible enough to believe a six year old con artist, but at least she'd failed!

I could still hear the two, the father scolding his daughter severely. 

"You could have just taken the milk!"

"But I didn't want milk!"

"Yes. AND NOW WE WON'T BE EATING TONIGHT!"

I smiled a little despite myself. Cassia pulled me further towards her so we were walking side by side. I looked grimly in her direction. I'd done something wrong, I just knew it. Was I supposed to be mean to the little girl? Or should I have given her everything I had? I hesitated while walking, and Cassia seemed to pick up on it. She turned to me, smiling slightly.  A jumble of emotions seemed to be playing snooker inside me, my heartbeat quickening and my lip curling in unison. What was wrong with me? It didn't take much to set me off, whether it was shouting or breathing like I'd run a marathon.