The Seven

Chapter 8

Larkin awoke to the early morning squawking of a nearby raven. The white light of the rising sun, masked by fog, invaded her vision as her eyes opened, remembering where she was. The events of the previous night slowly came back to her.

"Mmph," Larkin groaned as she pushed herself up against the base of a pine tree, sticks and stones nearly puncturing the thick, calloused skin on her hard-worked palms. Larkin didn't know if she was happy or distraught that those hard-earned callouses would soon be a thing of the past, a distant memory of working that she knew would never be a reality again. Pushing away the thoughts of her future, Larkin reached up, tree bark digging into her back, and plucked twigs, pine needles, and leaves from her now mussed hair. Shaking her hand through her locks, she took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes, wiping away dried tears from her cheeks. Toughen up, Lark. God knows that you're going to need to now.

She took in another shaky breath, the crisp morning air burning at her throat, before pushing herself up onto her feet. Her legs wobbled under her weight, begging to go back to sleep. She denied, bending over to brush dust and twigs off of her legs and torso before wandering toward the back door to her home. Larkin prayed that her family wouldn't be waiting at the table to scold her again. They're too good at that for their own good.

Each breath she took left a warm cloud in the frigid air, and her fingertips began to sting as the cold nipped at them. Holding back shivers, Larkin pulled open the back door and looked around. The early morning light had suggested that she had been awoken rather early, but her father and mother had already left for the day. Silently padding down the hallway, Larkin peered first into Archer's room, and then into Ember's room, both deeply asleep. School wouldn't start for another hour, and usually Larkin was gone for work by the time either of them even opened their eyes. Now it'll be different, she thought to herself. Frowning, she looked to the floor next to Ember's bed, noticing one of her pens laying astray.

Larkin ignored it and turned on her heel, heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. She's probably just using it for homework, she thought. It's not like I need it anyway. A little voice in her head nagged her. Job applications, Larkin. Job applications. Her brows knitted together as she attempted to suppress her thoughts, but her efforts came to no use. She shivered and a sick feeling rose from her stomach as her future unraveled before her eyes. Her chest clenched.

No job, ever again. No source of income, so that probably cancels out my chances of comfortably having any kids. Who would I even have kids with? I mean, I always have Osiris, but O isn't exactly the type who seems keen on settling down and starting a family. To be honest, neither am I, but I doubt he'd even let me get remotely close to his job. He always says it's to protect me, but who says I need his protection? I've made it eighteen years just fine on my own.

The voice in her head nagged once again. Look where that's gotten you.

Larkin decided to forgo breakfast that morning, leaving the kitchen and thinking of saving food for when she or someone else needed it more. The guilt was eating her alive, despite all she did to make sure it couldn't. Her heart began thumping in her ears as she passed by the ajar doors to Archer, Ember, and her parents' rooms. The family she needed to be supporting. The family she had failed.

A single tear fell down Larkin's cheek before she realized that she was crying again. Larkin hated crying, hated mourning with no purpose. Her philosophy was that if something went wrong, she needed to go and fix it. What am I getting out of tears? Larkin thought as she continued to her room. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I do have a shot at finding somewhere to work. I'm not that old. But there's no chance anyone's going to hire me if they see a weak teenage girl sobbing her way through life.