Chapter One: Amelia

Chapter One: Amelia

Fives years ago... 

All my life, I was taught to stay in my place and become stronger in my earth harnessing abilities. I am defined by how strong I am now and what abilities may come out of me later. I am a statistic to all the Sectors, collectively known as Moonlit Wood, and I will be treated accordingly. 

Everyday I open my eyes, I feel like I am being kept hostage. I scream at all my white walls to free me, hide me, don’t make me start this day, but they never listen. They just creak a sigh and send me on my way down the stairs to have my earth harnessing beaten out of me. Being abused physically and mentally is what many call conditioning. Many families do not believe in it at all, but my cruel father does. I hate him, but I have always been too afraid to defy him. 

But maybe today will be different? Today is my twelfth birthday and that means when fall comes around in a few months, I will be on my way to the school Luna’s Edge. This is the only place where all the sectors can be in one place. Here, I will learn how to harness my powers and meet other kids from the other sectors. They forbid us to make friends from different sectors, but they do encourage us to make connections that may help us in our careers when we grow up. So we use others, but we never fully appreciate them.

“Stay to your kind.” Is what we are all taught. And we all do. Each sector is guarded to ensure we never mingle with one another. If you are not part of the Earth Sector, then you are not welcome here. The same goes with all the other sectors. 

I stay in bed just a little longer, closing my eyes and listening to the silence of my empty room. The only belongings I own are a few books that travelers leave behind when they are visiting my father and a necklace that my mother left behind. I’ve never known my mother. I have been told many stories about what happened to her, but I never know what to believe. Sometimes I feel like I can hear her voice in the walls, crying for me to come find her. No matter how hard I look for her, or how much I cry for her to come back and take me away from this monster I have as a father, she never answers my calls. Maybe she is dead after all. 

Nothing I own is new, but I am okay with that. Even though we are known to be an old, rich, ancestral family, my father does not believe that means I’ve earned the right to own anything of value. The books I keep are outdated histories with pages worn and withered away from age. My dressers are bare and the shelves are empty. My room is like a ship in a glass bottle but without the sand. 

As the feeling of peace and silence leaves the room, and realization of having to get up comes to mind, I let out of a moan and stretch my legs. I let them dangle to the floor like a bobber on the water. As I stand up, I feel the coldness of the stone flooring beneath my toes. It sends a shiver up my spine, making me grab my old blanket and wrap it around myself. I hop over to my bare dresser, finding a plain purple shirt and faded leggings. I’d hate to take the blanket off of me, but I have to in order to get dressed. Giving a once over with my long, matted hair, I am ready to start my birthday with as much motivation as any other day. That’s none, by the way. 

I peak out my door, letting in just a little bit of faded light from the lanterns that hang from the chipping stone walls. The hallway is empty, quiet and eerie. I question whether or not I should even go, but the silence ensures me that it may be safe for now. Anyway, I am starving. Last night father did not like the fact that I was not able to crush through some slate, so he hit me hard behind the head and sent me to my room without lunch or dinner. I am sore from not only his hits, but also the amount of bruises that are decorating my body like graffiti. 

Giving one last look over, I tiptoe with my bare feet, closing my door slowly so it does not make a sound. My room is at the very end of a long hallway with walls covered in old portraits of people who are in no way related to me or my family. You would think that since my father is so proud about our background, that he would have multiple portraits of others in our family. But the walls show nothing, erasing any indication that we came from anybody. In fact, the only people in our family I have known is me and him. 

As usual, I walk on my toes, trying not to make too much of a sound. The stone floor is so cold, my toes start to go numb, but I keep going to beat out temptation so I don’t stop. Finally, I reach the staircase. It’s a long one that spirals around the inside of the house like a snake wrapping itself around its prey. Like the hallway above, there are more portraits of people I do not know, or would I ever know. Their faces flash before my eyes as I take steps down, forgetting their sad eyes as I pass each one. What is it about old pictures that seem so dark and twisted? Maybe it’s just this house choice of decor, but I feel like each one has some sort of curse attached to it. 

When I reach the final step, I hear the front door open slightly and shut abruptly. The sound fills the lower level with an angry slam. I sneak over slowly, trying not to disturb the silence around me with my presence. When I get closer to the door, I see the housemaid Monny carefully holding what looks to be five rocks of some sort. Her brown hair fizzes from the humidity and heat. The rocks are small in size, no bigger than a small garden gnome, but are solid and seem to have some significant weight to them. It’s hard to tell what what they are.  Are they statues of some sort or are they symbols? I feel like they look familiar, but can not tell for sure whether that’s in my head or if I have read about them somewhere in one of those old books I hoard. Monny moves slowly to the staircase, tilting from side to side, threatening to drop every one of them. If even ones breaks, my father will be angry. No one wants to endure his temper. I should know. 

“S**t! S**t!” Monny squeals. She holds her side against the wall, trying to give herself some balance. She lets out a sigh as the stones balance themselves in her arms once again. “Okay, slow and steady.” She tells herself. She lets out a few breaths. Her cheeks turn pink from the exertion of trying to pick up all the stones at one time. I love Monny but you would think she wouldn’t take all of them up at once. 

“Hey! You okay?” I say as I rush to her side. I grab three of the five stones from her in a clumsy manner. Monny is about to lose her balance once again as the stones fall in my arms one by one. I should probably use one of those earth harnessing ability’s, or whatever you want to call it, but even thinking about earth harnessing sends me in an anxiety filled ride. No, I will just carry it in my own normal way. Monny looks around, and so do I, looking to see if anyone is near. If we get caught together, I am not sure who would be in more trouble. 

“Really appreciate it,” Monny says with a shaky voice. The two stones in her hands rattle dangerously against her chest. She holds them close to her like a mother holds a fussy child. “Your father gets some crazy s**t in here. This must be a new obsession.” 

“What are they?” I ask. “And who dropped them off?” Normally, father has people over from around different sectors. I do not think he knows I know they are from different sectors, but the way they dress and their mannerisms give them away like color in a black and white photo. Although I am never allowed to interact with the guests who come in the doors, and if I do I would be sore for a month, I would have to say the people of the fire sector has always been the most intriguing. I would say they are the most misunderstood given their element and history. 

Monny shrugs her shoulders, rolling her eyes. “No idea. I remember seeing some man in the window, but he left before I could open the door. He seemed to be in a hurry.” 

“Figures.” I roll my eyes. 

We begin our trip up the staircase, holding onto the stones carefully. We do not talk, trying to be as silent as possible so we are not caught together. The stones are rough in my hands, stabbing my hands with its sharp edges. I shift them around, trying to relieve some of the pain.

Monny, short for Monica, is a servant that my father hired out of the goodness of his heart. Well, that’s how he views the situation. At twelve, it was apparent that Monny did not develop any of her elemental earth harnessing. She always told me that her father conditioned her so harshly, beating her when she tried and nothing happened, that it turned her into what people like to call a Null. Nulls in every sector are known as the outcast of society, basically thought to amount to nothing. Their only purpose in life is to beg for money and food. Some would call them the scum of the earth. Her mother was so ashamed, she cast her out of the family home and sold her to Amelia’s father. Reluctantly he took her in, making her his own personal slave. She’s been his prisoner for twenty years. Being his prisoner for twelve is hard enough, I can not imagine what twenty would feel like.

We make it up the staircase, the dim lighting making it harder to see and thus making it difficult to move forward without the urge of falling. A draft of cold air slashes through my thin clothing, causing me to shiver. I sit the stones down for a moment, taking a break from the weight that is pushing me down, and wrap my arms around myself to give me some warmth. 

I look over at Monny, who has also sat down her two stones down in close proximity to mine. She stares at me with warm brown eyes, making me feel like I want to smother myself with them. 

“Sorry,” I whisper gently. “Just needed a small break. These stones are heavy.” 

 “Actually,” Monny begins. She moves closer to me, putting her arms around my shoulder. Suddenly, a door from the bottom floor opens and closes, giving a hollow echo that fills the whole mansion. We both jump, trying not to yell in surprise. After a few seconds of silence, we relax, breathing sighs of relief. “I was hoping I’d run into you. Today’s the day! The big twelve.” Her arms now form a protective hug around me. My arms uncover myself, covering only her. Even though my real mother may be gone, Monny has always substituted, nurturing me with kindness and reassurance. She’s always been the only one who has lifted me up even in my darkest days. I close my eyes, feeling Monny’s heat warming my body. The feeling is so warm compared to the coldness that seems to fill the mansion. “And we all know that means finally you can get to school and be away from this place! You’re so close!” 

Monny takes a few steps back, grabbing my arms with her hands so they are stretched out like a strong bridge. She looks at me sweetly, tears threatening to flood her tan skin. “I will miss you so, my dear friend. My only friend.” she whispers. 

“I know.  My only regret is that I’ll have to leave you.” My throat starts to close, threatening to force tears from my eyes. I refuse to show such weakness, so I throw it down deep within myself, down to the place inside me that I dare never to explore. “Not too sad to leave my father though.”

“That’s right. It’s time for celebration.” She wipes the few small tears that have formed like dew on a spring morning from her eyes. “Now, I have a present for you,” Monny lets me go, and places her hand in her small, thin pocket. She holds onto something, clenching her fist in front of her. “I entrust to you a stone so rare, my mother would be pissed if she knew I was giving it away.” She opens her hand, revealing a glistening blue stone in the shape of a crescent moon.

I open my hands, allowing Monny to drop it into my palms. The stone is small and clumsy in my petite hands.  Its body feels like heavenly silk. Monny does not have much to her name. When she moved into the mansion, she brought a little box filled with trinkets from home, and a bag filled with a few old outfits. The fact that Monny is giving me anything means that she is giving a little bit of herself away. 

“It’s a Moonstone.” Monny explains. “It represents one fulfilling their destiny. My wish for you on your birthday is to find yourself away from here. Find who you are. Allow yourself to take the bad and good of the limbs you were created from and decide what to do with them.”

I close my hand, entombing the stone. “Let’s hope it works.” I place it in my pocket, giving a sigh. I know where we must go to next. I really hoped I did not have to see my father today.  “Shall we go to my fathers study to drop these off?” I know I sounded mad, so I looked away from her. 

Monny looks around again, making sure no one is around, and then looks back at me with expecting eyes and nods. “Stay behind me. I don’t want them to see you.” 

After a lot of breathless steps and sore hands, we approach a heavy, solid oak door with a crescent moon being stabbed with an arrow etched into its body. Monny directs me to quietly place the stones near the door. The door is cracked open slightly, showing only a small reminisce of light from candles and a fireplace. There are hushed voices of men talking, interrupting each other as one speaks. 

“Seriously, Cobra.” One man speaks directly to my father. “Can you believe the Wind Sector? Such an ignorant bunch. I’m surprised they have even survived this long,” You can hear the man shift in his chair, the wooden legs moaning from the friction. There are other voices of men agreeing, some laughing. 

“Why even try to do this with them? At least the Fire Sector has some sense. The Sashfire family over there would be more agreeable.” Says another. 

“F**k! You serious? The head of that family is a loon.” 

Some voices are very close to the door. I lean closer, trying to hear the words they are saying. Monny puts her hand on my shoulder, pointing fiercely at the opposite side of the door. 

“You know these men are vicious.” Monny’s voice says in quiet hissing. Her body spirals protectively in front of the door, making me invisible to anyone who may try to exit.  “They’re brainwashed and disgusting. They’d do foul things to you if your father let them.”

I am not sure what that means, but I believe her. I understand I must hide like a coward because my father would do anything to get me to listen, even if it is at the hand of others. 

It’s like this whole house gravitates around my father. These men who come over are just little stars in his orbit. When they fade away, they will easily be replaced by another Earth Sector member who is willing to be trained like a dog on a leash. 

We both stare at the door with wide eyes. I nod and find a safe distance opposite from the door to hide. The stones lay beside Monny, making it seem like she was able to bring them up all on her own. 

The room stirs with voices again, but is quieted suddenly with my fathers muffled voice. 

“Quiet now. I have a few connections with other sectors. We got all of Moonlit Wood covered. We just need to find the other pieces.” Her father articulates. “And make sure she’s taken care of. Don’t want any lose ends.” 

With the finality of his words, Monny knocks lightly on the oak door and enters the room, pushing the stones in one by one. You can hear the snickering of the men around, whispering dirty comments about Monny’s lack of earth harnessing.  I have the urge to run in there to protect her from their comments, but I know that if I do, words would be the least of our problems. 

Since Monny has entered the room, anxiety of what may become of her fills my every thought. The last time she entered a room with my father and his following, she came back out with two black eyes and a sprained wrist. I crouch on the floor, paralyzed to the fear of uncertainty. All I can do now is stay quiet and listen. If I move, they may hear me. 

I hear the sound of Monny placing the stones on the hearth of the fireplace behind the head seat of my father’s table. I am assuming he is seated in front of it, unwilling to move, because Monny makes a sound of struggle and nearly drops all of the stones. My father makes his infamous clicking noise with his tongue; he only makes this noise when he is angry, ready to strike. 

“Hurry up, you wretch.” He says angrily. “Yes, now go, go.” Monny squeals and a sound of leather hitting flesh fills my ears, with the following of someone falling to the cold stone ground. The men in the room snicker, almost begging for more. “Now let’s see,” father begins again. “One. Two. Three.” He pauses. I hear him curse under his breath. “There’s some missing. Seriously, is this what I-“ His voice cuts off and he begins walking around violently, his feet hitting the floor with force. “Did you take one? Huh?” I jerk to the sound of crumbling rock hitting the ground. I wonder if he destroyed part of the wall again.

“No. No, sir.” Monny’s voice trembles. Another rock hits roughly to the ground, and Monny lets out a slight squeal. “These were all that were delivered. Maybe if you tell me who they were from.” Monny trails off and does not let out another sound. 

“Shush!” He screams. His voice is so loud, it echoes down the hallway. “Don’t f*****g interrupt, you f*****g null.” His says viciously. Something hits the floor again, almost sounding like it’s breaking through the floor itself. This startles me, and I give out a sharp yelp. S**t. I  cover my mouth, shutting my eyes tight. Maybe if I close them tight enough, I will disappear.  

“Please..” I whisper gently as if this small prayer would somehow undo any sound that I may have made. My body begins to shake fiercer than an earthquake. 

Unluckily, the room goes silent. Loud footsteps fill the room again, but this time it’s heading towards the door. The door opens softly like a parent checking in on their young child. Through the darkness of my shut eyes, I can sense a light making its way through my eyelids. 

“What do we have here?” A voice arises me. I feel fear. Anger. Desperation.  I open my eyes hesitantly, my arms guarding itself like iron bars at a castle. I slowly look up, not surprised to see my father towering over me. 

Wearing nothing but the finest earth sector clothing of sturdy leather pants and a earth sector crested vest, some may say his physique is charming, yet deadly. Beneath his vest is a long scar that stretches from his belly button all the way up to his neck. There are many stories on how he got that scar, but I can not tell you which story is the true one. The most famous one involves him battling a serpent, which in turn attacked him and was killed with his bare hands. It is from this marking  that his infamous nickname Cobra was born. His hair is short, thinning some, with a few streaks of gray kissing his blonde roots. His eyes share the same color and fierceness of a deadly storm; One look in them would make you lost at sea. I am ashamed to say they look a lot like mine, but different because of how they look at the world. 

“If it isn’t the birthday girl.” He kneels down to my level, putting his forefinger and middle finger under my chin, lifting it to hold my gaze.  I can feel his fingernails gently press into my skin. “And why are you up here?” He dares me to speak. His gaze is a threat, daring me to answer.  

I take a deep breath, trying not to blink and break the eye contact. What should I tell him?  Should I lie? 

“I- I was walking around and I found myself here,” Like a coward, my lower lip trembles underneath his fingertips. His eyes grow wider and his nose flares. “I heard voices, and you know? I wanted to know what was going on?” My voice sounds like a scared mouse. 

“So you defy me and spy?” His voice is deep and threatening. I refuse to answer, only looking at him more intently.  I attempt to use my eyes to plead my release even though I know it will never work. “Fine.” He growls like a lion ready to pounce on his prey.

Suddenly, he wraps his hand around my hair three times, yanking me up like a noose being pulled around the neck. I gasp, but I am too surprised to scream from the pain. We make our way quickly inside the room, and I stumble multiple times. With one last pull, my hair is released, and I am standing alone in the middle of the study. 

The study is a smaller room, with an old, long, oak table that matches the door. The fireplace is holding the stones neatly in place, allowing them to be seen around the whole room easily. To the right is a bookshelf holding ancient texts that are falling apart from the binding. Most of the books look closely related to the books that are hidden in my room. 

I look over to the fireplace, where Monny is crouched down with her face being completely covered in her bloody arms. She looks frail, her body wilting over like a dying plant. The rocks I heard fall are surrounding her, covered slightly in her blood. 

Father storms around the room in a fit of rage. He circles the table where twelve of his followers are sitting patiently, all looking rough and mangled. The look in their eyes are a mixture of need, but I do not know what kind. They have never been permitted to touch me, and I am thankful. I rather not know what they may do to me if they were to get the chance. 

“I allow you to be in this house. I feed you. Give you clothes. Make sure you have a roof over your head.” He paces, stopping at the bookshelf and examines the titles like he is trying to distract himself. “You refuse to grow. You refuse to thrive. Your elemental abilities are like it doesn’t exist. You defy me so easily.” He whispers all this like he is reading a list that has been brought to his attention. “What to do? What to do? Maybe we should put the conditioning up a notch.” He places his hands behind his back, staring ahead at the many old books. His followers look over at him, waiting to see if they are given any direction. I can imagine them as dogs, wagging their tails with excitement to be told to do a new trick. 

And just like that, something inside me snaps like a rubber band. I have always reframed from using my own temper towards anyone, especially my father. I do not want to be like him. I do not want to be evil, twisted, unkind. I have always valued holding my tongue rather than speak out. This allowed me to be abused time and time again. But looking at the smug, happy looks of my fathers following and Monny looking like a collapsed building has me feeling something else entirely. When will this stop? I am tired of the conditioning. I am tired of the pain. One of these days my fathers abuse will result in death, and I refuse to die at his hand. 

Two can play the cards of threat. 

“Conditioning or abuse? Take your pick, you coward.” I scream as loud as my lungs will allow me to. The burn of the volume of my words is satisfying. It’s the feeling of freedom. I flare my nostrils. My body straightens like a soldier, daring anyone to try and attack. Small gasps fill the room, and everyone looks at my a*****e father expectantly. Even Monny in pain raises her head in fear, knowing that I just signed my life away on the dotted line. I will not die without a true fight. 

My father walks slowly backward, laughing softly and he turns around to face me, his diligent daughter. In his eyes, I see hell burning through, trying to escape and become one with the room. It’s not long before he is standing in front of me, towering my short size with his tall frame.

“Do you dare disobey me? Do you dare question the way you are raised?” I can feel hot air coming out of his nostrils as it blows down on my face. The whole atmosphere feels like a draw.

This is my day to take back the life that I never had. The abuse ends today. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it will come true. 

“Well then,” he whispers. He takes a loose strand of my hair and puts it behind my ear seductively. As he lets the strand go, his hand starts to caress my head, and suddenly he has hold of my ponytail again, pulling down with force. My neck cracks slightly as it turns down at an inhuman angle. 

I let out a  scream, bringing my hands up to fight off the attack. But as I do that, the hold is released and I fall to the floor, feeling like shattering glass.  

Monny is screaming in the corner, trying to get up, but she’s so injured, that she falls back, hand clenched in her lap.  

“F*****g ungrateful b***h,” he screams. He looks around the room at his followers. Many are looking at him expectedly, wanting him to give the word to strike. Others are looking at me as if they are interested to see what I will do next. “I should have never taken you in. I should have never raised you.” He spits on me, and I see his shoes pass me like they were about to kick me. But he stops, and I stare up and him and he stares down at me. “Maybe if I take away my protection, you will value me more.” I rock back and forth on my hurting hands, heart beating faster than it ever has. “Men. Go.” 

I stumble to my feet, trying not to think about the pain I am feeling throughout my body. Monny screams something behind me, but her voice is fazed out with a weird buzzing in my ears. I watch the men at the table get up slowly, looking at each other with delight. My father moves back to the fireplace, not looking at the men, nor me. Instead, he places his attention on the stones. I do not exist to him anymore. 

I walk backwards, finding the door handle behind me. I never thought the feeling of cold brass could feel so comforting in my hands. As I push open the door, I close it abruptly behind me, trying to bid me some time. I start running down the hall, trying to find the staircase quickly. The sound of the men’s shoes running sound like gunshots against the floor. They tempt me to look behind, but they can all suck a pair. I am not that stupid. 

My bare feet hits the floor, and the coldness does not feel so cold anymore. In fact, my whole body feels hot with fear. Today is the day I leave. I will leave everything behind. I finally make my way to the staircase, taking it every other step all the way down. A few people are downstairs, waiting patiently in the sitting area. Some scream, but I do not know if it is at me or the men that are running behind me. 

As I urgently open the front door, a man is standing there, looking at me like I am crazy. His eyes are wild, unnerved as he stares at me. “You.” He begins, but I have no time. I push him aside, and he stumbles, almost falling in the bush. 

“Sorry!” I scream. I doubt he accepts my apology. I feel the twigs and rocks rape the bottoms of my feet. The weather outside is humid, warm, and bright. Trees that surround the mansion sway with the low wind, giving the crinkle sound you hear when you play with wrapping paper. If I make my way far enough, maybe the trees will hide me. I do not know where I will end up, or how I will be able to survive once I make it to safety, but I will figure that out once I ditch these guys. 

About half a mile in, I finally reach grass. The change in ground is soothing, giving my feet a break to recover from the rough terrain. I am so close to the dense wooded area. My lungs are on fire from running, begging me to stop. I can not stop though. I need to keep going. Maybe once I reach the thick wood, I can hide and catch my breath. 

Suddenly, the ground beside me bursts open, spreading dirt and rock around me, falling down like rain. The men are not too far behind, earth harnessing now to try to slow me down. I try to ignore this, but another man earth harnesses just in front of me, enough to slip my footing and have me tumble to the ground. I try to flip back to my feet, but I fall hard on my bottom, trying to grab at the grass to pull myself back up.

As soon as I hit the ground, one of the followers grabs me. I scream as his hands hold on to my wrists, trying to push me down to the ground. I can smell the meal he had for breakfast as he tries to blow down my ear and neck. What is he trying to do to me? What does he want from me? 

“Get off me!” I try to push him away with my screams. It seems like the more I resist, the more hands on he becomes. 

“I will give you a time you will not soon forget!” He screams back at me with a growl. 

As he flips me over on my back and locks my hips with his thighs, his hands flail to his face and he jumps off me, landing a foot away. I look over quickly, seeing that he has some sort of burn peaking out from underneath his hands. I do not question this gift of a second chance to run. I crawl back up, feeling dirt make its new home between my toes. I run faster this time, refusing to look back at the men who are most likely feet away from me. 

Finally, I make it to the woods. The wind greets me like an old friend saying hello after a long break of silence. The bugs around me sing their song, welcoming me to their home. I am rarely allowed out of the mansion, so the thickness of the woods around me is a surprise and comfort. I turn left. I turn right. Honestly, I have no idea where the hell I am going. I am allowing my legs to go their own way, not caring where I end up. 

I do not hear the men as loudly now, so I think they are further enough away where I can slow down to allow my breath to come back. I see a clearing ahead of me, and I pinpoint that as my stopping destination. 

The clearing has a fallen down log sitting next to a stream of water flowing freely. It is the most comforting scenery that I have ever seen in my life. As I sit down, I smell faint smoke, almost like there was a huge campfire and the fire finally went out. Twigs break around me, but I can not tell where the sound came from. I look around, seeing if I am truly alone.   

“Who dare pass!” Says a voice behind me. My head snaps around, trying to find my intruder. 

“Who...What..” I respond. I get up quickly from the log, turning my body to the voice. 

“You are on private property. How did you even find this place?” The voice is of an angry woman. I think its coming from behind one of the large trees. The smell of smoke is a bit more intense now. It’s odd I cannot see smoke.  

“Please, I mean no harm.” I say and put my hands up. I try to find her, but she is hidden well. “I don’t live too far from here. My father sent these men to chase after me. I don’t know what they would do to me if they caught me.” I try to reason with her. 

“So you bring them here?” She snaps back. I see her head slowly peak from behind a tree not too far from me. Her dark auburn hair falls in curls to her shoulders, and it hides part of her face. She comes out reluctantly. 

“I’m sorry. I just ran and didn’t look where I was going.” I say. I try to move closer to her, but she puts her hand up, stopping me. 

“What’s your name, child?” She asks. She starts moving closer to me, and as she does I see she’s older, maybe in her forties or fifties. Her eyes are the color of amber. She wears decent clothing, not worn out by any means. If I have to give a word on how she looks to me, I would choose lovely. 

Suddenly, I feel shy, not wanting to really talk. Here I am, standing on someone’s private property with bare legs and feet, looking like I just escaped some prison. I would not trust me either if I were her. 

“My name is Amelia.” I whisper as I look down. “Please don’t turn me away. I have no where to go if I turn back around.” 

I sense her a couple feet away from me, her presence making me feel even more uncomfortable. 

“Look at me.” Her voice sounds perplexed. Now that she is closer to me, I realize that the source of the smell of smoke is from her. She wears it like a perfume. 

I look up, catching her gaze. As she takes in my appearance, her mouth opens slightly, almost like she is surprised. “Can’t be..” I hear her whisper. But as soon as the words escape her lips, she shakes her head, forcing her stern voice back. “My name is Clarissa. I don’t live far from here. If you are up to it, you may stay a while at my home.” 

I never heard of someone living so secluded in the woods before. Normally, you see residents in a sector living in more furnished areas, with landscaping delicately placed and shaped. Her home is in the middle of tangled woods and uneven ground. 

“I don’t want to intrude.” And I don’t. All my life I have been a burden. Here I am, about to be a burden to a complete stranger. 

She laughs, and it sounds almost magical. “It’s not like I get many visitors.” 

Before I can even respond to her, I can hear the men cursing their way through the woods, calling out to me like I am some lost lover at sea. “Hurry. We must not get caught.” She holds out her hand to me, and reluctantly I take it. It’s warm, soothing, and soft. I have never touched warmer hands in my life. The feeling surprises me, and I pull my hand back some, almost letting go of her hand entirely. She holds on tight pulling me towards her and then starts running in the direction she came. When we are about twenty feet away from our original  meeting place, she lets go of my hand, and faces the direction where we came. 

Putting her two hands up, she closes her eyes and starts to chant something foreign under her breath. Her hands glow the color of a sunset. It was then that I knew who, or what, she is. 

“You’re from the fire sector!” I gasp. Her hands slowly fall back to her sides, and she turns back around slowly to look at me. 

“I used to be.” 

“How...Why?” I try to articulate my words, but they come out in gibberish. “It’s impossible for someone from the  Fire Sector to be here. How would you even get in? Why would you choose... here?” 

She pauses a moment, and then smiles. “You have your secrets and I have mine. Let’s keep it that way, at least for now. I am sure over time maybe our stories will collide.” She walks past me, heading for her home. “Now, let’s go. They won’t get you now. I put up a protection.” 

She starts walking home, and I follow her. I mean, what else am I going to do? I trust her more in the few minutes that I’ve known her than anyone back home. Well, besides Monny. 

Monny. The thought of leaving her behind breaks me silently. She would want me to follow, to begin a new life.  I owe it to her to at least try.