The Promise of Nariko

Searching for the Escape.

Nariko. The name I was given. The name I despised. The name that forced me into this cycle, chosen by the spirits. I was just a slave to them. Forced to help and be the carer of this village. Twenty years had passed, and I was at my breaking point.
     Just one more, I told myself, as I wrapped clean bandages around the child's leg. He stayed remarkably calm as I fixed the bandage at the ends and helped him back into his wheelchair. "Thank you so much" The mother whimpered, teary-eyed and shaking in her husband's arms.
     "My pleasure" I grinned. The mother turned her back but the mute father stood for a second. He couldn't say a word, and didn't want to be able to, but we both knew my smile was somwhat faked. Don't get me wrong, it warmed my heart to be helping the poor kid, but twenty years of this, and not ageing a day, it's hard not to break down in tears every time I remember it's a thousand more years until I'm free. Next came a tiny old lady I knew from the nearby city, London, I think. "Are you okay? How's the medication holding up?" I asked.
     "Oh, I'm not here for me, this time, deary." she said, "The spirits are calling you east. You are to go to London to help the sick and homeless. They need you, Nariko." London, eh? The amount of times I've moved, I didn't even need to ask when. I gathered my bottles and herbs in a blanket, tied the ends and slung it over my shoulder.
                     "Can you show me the way?"

                                                     ...

"How can you walk for this long almost every day?" I panted.  Hours had passed and this old woman hadn't even broken a sweat. "Darling, you've forgotten, these wells weren't here forever. When I was your age, I'd walk right from the village to the River Thames in the middle of London every day just for our family's water."
"Wow..."
     My knees ached terribly, but I could see the buildings rising higher, the smell of petrol and cigarette smoke lingered in the air. My eyes watered as the light dimmed, the buildings blocking the sun. Chewing gum stains coated the pavement and overflowing bins were fitted along the sides of buildings. As I looked up, I could see construction sites in the near distance, the rusted red cranes moving slowly in the still, cool air.
     "Well, here we are!" The woman turned into a tiny alleyway and started climbing some rickety metal stairs.
     "Is this a fire escape?" Not very safe if it is...
The woman nodded, opened the heavy door at the top and let me in. I could see what I think was a hotel corridor, with muddy footprints leading to the last door, and a spot of something sticky next to a crushed can of drink.
     My old leather shoes pushed against my feet as a wonky floorboard stuck up through the carpet. Rickety doors swinging from the hinges pulled the scratched paint of the doorframes, and, as the light flickered, it illuminated the beige wallpaper, then plunged it into darkness for a split-second, before musty light returned.
    I followed the woman through a door to a tiny room, occupied by a blow-up matress, a broken lightbulb and a minifridge. She helped me out of my jacket, which she hung against the door handle, then started rummaging through her handbag, muttering to herself in an oddly harsh tone. I sat on the sagging matress, unaware until now of my roaring hunger. My muscles ached, my feet, red, raw and cold to the bone. Kicking off my shoes, I let myself fall onto the matress, pulling the blanket over my chest and closing my red, teary eyes. Tommorow was another day. Hopefully I'd make it through the night this time.