Solus

Chapter 1

I remember my childhood as though it were just a memory. My mother never opened the curtains, my father only came on Sundays, and I cared for my 18 year old brother.
My mother always kept eyes on those purple curtains. One peak of light never did escape. I remember when I was 4 I would tiptoe my way to the curtains and twirl the bottom around my hand. When my mother saw what I was doing, she instantly grabbed the curtain and placed it firmly on the rail, grabbed me and sent me to my room without supper.
It never did occur to me why she wanted me to keep away from those curtains until my father told me the first day I arrived at the reformatory at the age of 7. He worked there and when he had the chance he grabbed me from my line of 7 year olds and frantically told me the truth.
"Alisha, sweetheart, I know you're scared about all this but let me tell you something: remember why your mother never let you look out those curtains?" I shook my head. "If anyone ever saw you were still with us, regardless if you were 7, they would take you sooner. Shush now, darling, everything is going to be alright I'm here. I'll never abandon you."
I couldn't help it. Tears spilled down my cheeks as he wiped them with his free hand that wasn't holding my shoulder. I was terrified, alone, and isolated. Could there have been a more perfect way to disappear than in the arms of your father? I didn't think so.

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My father never came home until Sunday. Sunday, the day of Mass and prayer. He would come home, heavy ridden and tired with the look of work in his eyes. I remember the breeze always rolling in when he came from the front door and the biggest smile you have ever seen on his face when his daughter came to give him the largest of hugs.
He never ate first. It was always my mother or me. Bill, my 18 year old brother, usually slept during dinner. My father had such modesty that he allowed others to eat before he did.
After dinner, he went to the sink to wash dishes with my mother while I went to get ready for bed. We've only exchanged a few words during dinner but those few words always kept me at ease during the week.
He went into my room while I laid down and told me a story about a girl with long hair who found a prince and lived happily ever after.
" Daddy, what's 'happily ever after'?" I had asked.
" It's when something good happens and you need something to call it. The feeling is like 'happily ever after' but what it really is is happiness sweetheart." He concluded. I was pretty amazed at his explanation. I thought 'happily ever after' was just something people of the past always used to end their stories.
I didn't want my father to leave for another week but I know all good things had to end for a little while. He saw the worrisome in my eyes.
"Darling don't be that. You know I'll come back as soon as I can. But for the meantime you have your mother and Bill now. I'll be back soon but until then I have something for you to remember me by." He reached into his left breast pocket and pulled out an oval necklace with a gold chain. I held it over with the tip of my fingers and felt the engravings firmly. The inside contained a note written in Spanish.
"Mi Corazon Es Tuyo, My Heart Is Yours. This will help you later on darling." He said. After that, he kissed me on my forehead and went to bed.
Of course he was always there. During my first week at the reformatory, scared as heck, he took me out of my first inspection to whisper to me where the underground route was hidden to escape to our home everyday for an hour during sleep break.
My father was head of the security office and the first in charge for security taping. All these weeks he had been preparing for the day I would have to step inside the reformatory for the next 11 years. He always changed video taping to show other parts of the reformatory besides my escape and cleared the hallway to plot out my escape.
My necklace was removed from me the first day I arrived. I remember being almost whipped to death by the headmaster trying to get it back. The woman was tall and fairly curved and she retrieved that necklace like she never seen a thing.
I cried for an entire hour demanding my necklace but would never retrieve it. My father felt responsible for not retrieving it before I was put in the reformatory but I didn't let him take the blame. All I really wanted was my necklace.
I never really did find out what happened to it but I could guess anything it's lurking in her cabinet somewhere.

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My brother Bill returned from the reformatory just before I turned 7. He was a slender baby faced boy with brown hair, such as my own.
He was rather sweet when I finally met him but the most unusual part of him was that he spoke rather slow. His speech was warped in a way I couldn't explain and he used sentences that I didn't understand such as the time when I asked him if he wanted some hot chocolate, "Delighted so but please remove yourself when you're done."
My father explained to me later on that during the time in the reformatory if anyone was caught "stuttering" they would have to repeat a series of words in a sentence over and over until the stuttering went away.
Bill was an exception. His speech was perfect, too perfect in fact. After examination he was sentenced to a place called "the yard" where only the worst go. He wasn't allowed to leave until his speech matched all the other kids. It took him 3 weeks of speech until his was finally warped and made into a mere perfect match as his fellow bunk mate.
Anyway, he succeeded in following all the rules throughout his stay and did not even once falter. After the 18 initiation, he chose to go into the suppose "cruel world" instead of stay inside the reformatory where it was said that things would change. He knew the truth and would not stay another minute longer.
My mother welcomed him almost sobbing since 11 years of separation almost killed her; parents cannot visit their children while inside the reformatory. I was introduced with an awkward hug and a brief introduction on who Bill was.
I remember when I put Bill to sleep with a cup of hot tea that he had said, "Alisha, it was a pleasure meeting you. I never made your acquaintance and it was truly a pleasure. Mother never seemed this worried," and that's when he chuckled, "I assume finding out that you were going into the reformatory soon completely terrified her." He said.
Reformatory. Reformatory? I never knew such a word and yet finding out still wouldn't have made the situation any better.
The day I went to the reformatory was the day I turned 7. I received a handful of hugs and kisses and didn't understand why. That was until the doorbell rang.
My mother started crying, sobbing very hard. My father only grabbed her and kissed the top of my head. The doorbell rang multiple times until my father stood up and opened the door.
Two officers in brown and red colors stood next to each other. They seemed almost unconcerned. My father motioned for me to come but even my own feet wouldn't allow it. I was scared, crying and wouldn't allow anything. My father finally grabbed me and gave me to the officers.
I got into the car, feeling the cool breeze and the outside world for the first time, as I saw my brother Bill sobbing in the back while he held my mother.
I sat down in the backseat and allowed the men to take me away.