Memories

Scene from Katia's past

Penn was a relatively tiny town, which Katia found both comforting and stifling. She’d never known anything different, but she knew she was bored. Aside from the occasional Gypsy troupe in the wood, travelers passed through without stopping. She was rather happy about this, though, as their unfamiliarity made her uncomfortable. They didn’t frighten her, exactly; only one thing did that.

 

She grasped a branch and swung up to sit upon it, perched high in the sparse woods. She was supposed to be at school, of course, with the other 11 year olds. But school was always the same, and she hardly got along with most of the other children. They were so… cheerful. Energetic. Annoying.

 

Katia looked at the sky in her only peaceful place, imagining the clouds reaching down and pulling her far, far away. Floating in their soft embrace and warmed by the sun, her eyes slowly closed.

 

 

 

When they opened again, the sun was shining right in her eyes. She smiled lazily and squinted before suddenly realizing its location in the sky. She snapped up and scrambled down the tree, running as fast as she could down the path. After what seemed to be an eternity, she reached the familiar cluster of houses.

 

Panting on the steps, Katia slowly turned the doorknob. It opened, and Katia cringed. She opened the door gingerly, then relaxed as relief flooded through her. She’d just forgotten to lock it�"he wasn’t home yet. When he was this late, she usually began imagining he’d never return. Today, there was no time for idle wishing.

She made her way quickly to the kitchen, rooting frantically around for something quick to prepare. Within a minute, bread, water, and rather unevenly cut ham were thrown on the table. Trying not to panic, she set the table in a flurry. She hadn’t cleaned, cooked, or fed the chickens, and couldn’t think straight. What was most important? She dashed to the broom, but she’d hardly taken a step before the door opened with a creak. She grimaced, remembering she was supposed to have greased the hinges today as well.

 

Smoothing her worn dress, she calmed herself and set her neutral mask, slowly going to greet her father.

 

Her mask faltered as soon as she saw the look on his face. He was in a mood.

 

“Katia,” he said. More of a growl, really, Katia thought.

 

She set her mask again, relaxing her expressionless face. “Hello, father, how was your�"“

 

“Go,” he interrupted.

 

Katia blinked, and hesitated before asking where.

 

His face darkened. “The door. Now.”

 

She let out a breath, relieved. If missing dinner was the only consequence, he must not be in a mood after all. “Yes, sir,” she said, and grabbed the oil can. She didn’t notice the sound of the back door swinging open.

 

Her father entered the kitchen as she watched with apprehension. To her despair, he came right back out again, livid. Katia set the can down quickly, before she spilled it with her shaking.

 

“I’m sorry I haven’t properly cooked tonight,” she said quickly, her mask firm.

 

He didn’t reply, but grabbed her tiny wrist and half-led, half-dragged her into the kitchen, his dark eyes on fire. What she saw turned her legs to jelly: a chicken ran squawking around the room, and bread was strewn across the floor. The back door was unlatched and swinging.

 

Katia marveled that she didn’t hear it. “It must have gotten hungry again?” she offered hopefully, turning to meet a hard backhand to the cheek. She tumbled into the table, striking it sharply with her hip. Before she could regain her balance, she found herself flying to the floor, landing in a heap.

 

“How many times have I told you?” he roared, punctuating each word with a kick.

 

Katia covered her head, hiding her emotionless mask. But a tear was wrenched from her as his boot struck her tender hip. She clenched her eyes shut, determined not to give him any more.

 

Everything stopped sooner than she expected, and she heard the clink of a bottle. “Take care of this now,” she heard, and his footsteps receded.

 

Katia sat up and slowly unclenched her fist, staring at what she had somehow grabbed after the first hit. She carefully set down the knife with a shaking hand, and gingerly pulled herself up.

Author's Note

Chapters aren't in chronological order, they're random scenes and adventures in the lives of my characters.