Chapter 1: Ciri

I never had a home to call my own. No family to look after me when I was sick. I was an orphan, a throwaway that only existed in society to look after others. I had a purpose, but I always wished to know my origins. I knew little about my birth parents, but I did dream of them sometimes. Not all of my dreams were good; they could be monsters, like Hillary Edwin, my employer. She enjoyed my pain; it relieved her to have someone to take the brute of her insecurities, especially that day. “You stupid girl,” Mrs. Edwin slapped me hard. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“Sorry ma’am,” I touched my aching cheek.

“You are a striking little thing, aren’t you,” she grabbed my chin and made me look at her, “But even with your particular skills, you’ll never have my husband.”

“Mrs. Edwin I would not do something like that,” I promised her and I saw the spark in her eye before her hand swept the cup off her fancy dinner table.

“Take the girl away and teach her a lesson,” Mrs. Edwin said. “She broke a piece of my china.” I looked down at the broken glass on the floor. I wondered if the guards saw her push it off too, but even if they did they would probably still blame me. I could have screamed or reacted, I just did not have it in me to add onto my punishment. I didn’t say a word; I never did when the time came. See, in my world, as long as you keep living one day the pain will stop and you'll move on.

“This is a waste of time,” the guard in charge said storming down the hall to meet the men holding me.

“Sorry sir, but the girl ought to be punished,” the guard on my left shrugged.

“Take her away then, but do not ruin that pretty face," he smirked and I glared at his feet whilst a war raged inside my head. Hit him, a voice urged me and my hands formed into fists, but I held my tongue and my temper as I was escorted away.

"You handle the girl, Simmons, I am taking my break," one of the guards said.

"Enjoy the pub, Dawson," the other said then shoved me hard towards the stairs. My pant leg got caught on a nail and then I went tumbling down the cement stairs until I hit the bottom. Every inch of me hurt and I just wanted to curl up in a ball and never stand again. "Get up slave," the guard wrenched me up to my feet, "You think we are slowing down because you fell; well think again.” He wrapped his cold hand around my hand; his fingers cut into my skin. He escorted me outside and trudged through the puddles that filled the cracks in the road.

 

It was misty, but I could still see the government building looming over every building, like a giant watch tower. I was just glad its eyes weren't turned in my direction. The buildings around us were all dated and neglected to the point of having vines weaving their way up from the foundation to the top windows. Others in our fair city were better kept, depending on their owner's fortune. "You like the parliament building, girly?" asked the guard. "Too bad they wouldn’t stand for no slave trash in the Spector's home.” He was right. I could not go into the government building I was not fortunate enough to be invited or to serve there. I would never be one of those kinds of people.

There are some blessed individuals who serve the Council, but not many. The Elite and the high-ranking officers rule over us, and the Council governs them. The Council is made up of the primes, presidents of society, and lawmen. Above even them were the Spectors of Graceland, the deadly people, who often played a role in the nightmares that had plagued me for years.

I haven’t seen even a glimpse of hope in all of these years; it was ripped from me from the rich and the guards that worked for them. To make it worse, men seemed to think of my red hair as a beacon for fun, whereas the women saw me as trouble and didn’t trust me. Both are equally as horrible. My past employers chopped off most of my hair, and a lack of food should have made me homely looking and sickly, but even that did not make the men stop eyeing me. Horror stories about servants becoming new brides to rich men made me grateful to continue my daily toil of mopping floors and cleaning silver. The torment those brides could expect was inhumane and I’d seen homemade whip marks across their backs before.

Being below everyone wasn't the best situation to be in, but trying to fight our regime was even worse. Anyone who stepped out of place would be tortured and humiliated. When Terra, the place once known as North America changed years ago; the Elites, Council and Spectors took advantage of the situation. The servants were those who were orphans, or secondary children. That’s how it started anyways. We had always been at the bottom. No one chooses this life willingly.

The country was in ruins except for the city, where I lived. I was told my family lived out in the Drifter’s land somewhere, but they gave up their children to the Council in exchange for life support. Apparently, they needed food, water, and medicine more than their own children. I’ve never been introduced to my family, so I could be working with them and not know it.

As we walked, the women came out of their homes to look upon me with disdain. They were upper class like Mrs. Edwin. Some are heavily religious, and others are just self-important. To me, they live just to look down on the less fortunate. When I’ve had the chance, I’ve read books from the past about better worlds. They’re nothing in reality though; they are just a fantasy. I was relieved when we left the rough broken streets and then it hit me, that we were moments away from reaching the reformatory. The punishment was waiting there in the form of whips and chains. Any trace of happiness was long gone before we reached the entrance.

The guard showed no emotion as he tugged me towards the door. I obediently followed; doing anything else would result in more trouble. “Come on,” he grunted. “I haven’t got all day.” I quickened my pace without a word.

As he dragged me up to the steel door, he did not say anything to me and I wondered if the chamber had ever welcomed him in for a cleansing. The guards standing in front of the chamber seemed just as unsympathetic. “What is your code and serial number, girly?” His glare grew more intense the longer I took to answer.

 

I looked at the ground as I finally spoke. “Ciri17.” “133459.”

“Ciri17, go inside,” he boomed, and stepped away from the door before hissing, “Witch.” The guard, who took me there grabbed my arm again and led me inside the reformatory. The sound of screaming, crying and pleading made my ears feel like they were bleeding. I hated to see people in pain and knowing that I was next. I’d been through enough beatings to handle it better, but I couldn’t help remembering the worse ones when the younger servants howled. I could afford to be much tougher, as I was now considered an adult at seventeen. 

After passing door after door, the guard finally stopped in front of a door labelled Cleansing Room; I laughed inwardly at their arrogance. He shoved me inside with more force than he needed to and shut the door. Nobody was inside to discipline me yet, but the implications of the objects were enough to make me scream. Ropes, whips, and chains surrounded me, some were covered in a dark, almost black crust; it may have been blood.

A sign took up most of the walls, a reminder meant to make us feel guilt for our actions.

Servant Code, Rule #3: Those who rebel against the Crown’s way of life should be punished. Why should one want to make such a statement against the people who raised them from nothing? This should not be so hard.

Level one �" 69 lashes

Level two �" 42 lashes

Level three �" 30 lashes

Level four �" 17 lashes

Level five �" 9 lashes

Level six �" 4 lashes

Level seven �" 2 lashes

We hold ourselves up and we guide through the dark. To the dark we fight and we will conquer. You will thank us when you realize the full scale of what you’ve done. �"signature of the High Spectors

A guard entered and I was chained to the wall. I hated that this was part of my life, but the city had been my frightful prison for too long and I did not even know if I could escape this place. I heard the whip flying back and I bit my lip as hard as I could. My crime earned me the level-five punishment and I’d been at this level before so I knew exactly how to handle it. I separated my legs so my legs could handle it and then the whip hit me and I stayed locked in place. The next eight lashes hurt just as much and other people might cry, but that would give the guard too much pride in his work. “Does it hurt?” the guy asked me.

“No,” I held my ground.

“We’ll see about that,” he whipped me even harder and I closed my eyes.

I was glad though when they were finally over and he sent me off. “Do that again girl and it’ll be double,” the guard waiting outside told me.

“Yes sir,” I said then noticed he was eyeing me up. “May I be excused?” I asked politely.

“You may, you are relieved of duty from the Edwin home,” he said clearing his throat and I walked off until I got to an alley where I was out of view. Once I was out of view, I was free to run. I was slow at first limping, but soon I was flying. I pushed myself to get to the church faster and away from my punishers. I must get to Umber and I need someone I trust right now. When I reached the church, I walked inside and ignored the holy water near the doorway because I knew the kind of people that used it.

 

My friend, Umber was knelt down in front of the stained glass window. She was always here because her dad was the grand minister of Graceling, only she was an illegitimate child so she was a servant like me.

“Father, hear me I pray to thee, I hold you in the highest, so please listen,” she said with her hands in prayer, “May the grace of my lord give me the strength to protect my father and all those I love.” She always spoke kindly of her father even though he abandoned her. She was such a sweetheart, her dad didn’t deserve her prayers, or even her thoughts. She was two when he handed her over. He came to her mom’s house where she was living and handed her over to the authorities on the condition that she remained a secret.

She was my friend and I looked out for the people I cared about. I lied before about that glimmer of hope, I do have some hope, but it is not for myself, it’s for her. I’d take a life of punishment if Umber could have a life where she could always be happy and loved by her family. She should have been rich and happy, not sitting in a church in tattered garments that were barely held up by her thin frame. I wore similar clothing; it seemed to be the slave style to look like our clothes were withering away, just like us.  

The only thing that set me apart was my striking complexion; my one ‘gift’ from my birth parents. Umber said I should be happy that my situation isn’t as bad as it could be, but I found myself incomplete in some way and I couldn’t wait to be older so I could choose a profession. Being a servant hindered me. Being a shopkeeper or any kind of professional work would make me something…stronger. You chose a profession when you were twenty one, so I had four years before I was free of a life, where serving or dying are your only choices.

I wanted to go into woodwork, while Umber wanted to study religion. Other jobs included engineering, shop keeping or other needed services to the Council. Some people believe it or not stayed in the servant life for their entire lives. Sometimes it was a life sentence from the Council, or not knowing what to do with yourself outside of housework. I'd always loved working with wood.

I mean I felt bad about cutting down living things. When I was younger, I used to take days off and go into the forest to find dead trees on the ground. I would take wood to make figurines out of. I liked animal shapes the best, but they were all rough because I did them with a pocket knife I hid under my pillow, in case of emergency. I had nights off with Mrs. Edwin and I made an eagle to represent her constant harping at her husband and the servants.

I was a very cautious person overall, but I wasn't ashamed of who I am. "In your name, I pray, protect Ciri through all her wars, and let everyone sleep safely at night,” she said blowing out her candle.

 

"And may there be light,” I said turning on the lights. She flipped her black mane back smiling at me and her eyes were gleaming. She was sweeter than me, but men never seemed to bother her, like they bothered me. I hated the thought of those men, the ones who tried to take advantage of me and I wanted to get away from them more than anything. I am not complaining I am glad my friend has never been attacked, but it’s strange how different people's idea of beauty is.

"Ciri,” Umber ran over and hugged me.

"Hey Number,” I laughed and her eyes narrowed. People weren't very original with names; servants got their names based on their first skill. I could speak before I was supposed to and I memorised my serial number early on, so they named me Ciri. That is what I was told anyways. Umber used to play with her mother's calculator so they named her Umber after the word number. There were girls named Silver because they were good at polishing silver and guys named Cal because they knew how to read calendars.

It was irregular to get a fancy name when you were a slave, but the Elite and the rich had more powerful names. Elites were often named after rocks, which was fitting given their thick skulls and personalities.

Common names included Till, Flint and Jasper. The greatest family in that profession were the Ryans. They were merciless and their power overwhelmed even the Council at times. I believe their successor was a recent graduate of the Elite Academy, Sentinel. I didn’t know his name and I hadn’t met him, but Elites are all the same. I was pondering our naming when Umber spoke again.  

"So how was your day?" she asked wrapping her arm around me.

"It was pretty good, I have a few new cuts. No big deal,” I shrugged.

"Oh yes, I heard you broke Mrs. Edwin's spare cup. Ciri, you have to be more careful.” Umber was always the mothering type and she looked after me as I did for her when she could. She couldn’t save me from everything; neither could I. We accepted that.

"I know, Umber, but she knocked the cup over,” I sighed, “I tried to be good.”

"I am glad you are safe now.” She smiled.

"Yeah, I am out of Edwin house and you should hear some of the gossip going around about Mr. Edwin,” I whispered.

"Very funny, you need to watch your tongue, my fragile ears can’t hear such filth,” she covered her ears and grimaced.

"Filth is brilliant in the mind of the rich, because it gives us a reason to clean,” I said.

"I think you need cheering up. You've been so down lately,” she hugged me.

"Well I always get in trouble for things I did not do and if I get one more hit to my spine it'll get displaced,” I explained.

"Well today you’re free,” she smiled. “What do you wish to do, Blue?” She teased me about my insecurities all of the time.

"You cannot fathom how much I wish my eyes were brown or green, like the trees.”

"They set you apart,” she sat on the edge of one of the benches.

"I don’t want to be different, Umber,” I snapped then closed my eyes, “Sorry.”

"No. I’m sorry; I know you wish to be different, but I can’t lose you,” she said sadly.

“Umber,” I sat down beside her, “My best friend, you know I’d only fight the regime for you. You keep me going; even when insanity should have consumed me.”

“I only hope that one day, you make more friendships,” she held her delicate figure in the proper manner, like her mother taught her.

“I gave up on that years ago,” I rolled my eyes, “I cannot trust anyone else.”

 

“I still think we should look for your parents together,” she bit her lip.

“They didn’t want me, Umber,” I clenched my fists, “I want to, I just can’t.”

“Their loss,” she nudged me. “Are there any men in your future, Ciri17?” she questioned.

“I doubt it,” I muttered, “I do not have it in me, Umber. Nothing would ever be real in that kind of relationship.”

“Ever the pessimist,” she teased me.

“Always,” I grinned. Our moment was cut short by the slamming of the church door. Umber jumped and I peered over my shoulder, “Just another sinner.” Another look, though, made me aware of the fineness of her dress. She was, definitely, out of place here.

“Ciri17,” the woman walked down the aisle.

“Yes, miss,” I stood up.

“These two are China13 and Darius19,” she gestured to the two teenagers behind her. The young girl looked ill and the man looked at me suspiciously.

“Did I do something wrong, ma’am?” I asked.

“You were recommended to us, actually,” she smiled, “An Elite will be coming to stay in our area and you will be working with China and Darius in his household.”

“In what position, ma’am?” I hoped my first guess was wrong.

 

“As a thrall,” she said. I would have to obey the Elite’s every command; that could mean losing what innocence I had left. My heart sank.

“No,” Umber interjected, “You cannot do that to her, you know what the Elite men do with young girls.”

“It is an honour, Ciri17, even if it is unbecoming,” the woman smiled at me, “It could be the greatest achievement of your life.”

“How dare you?” Umber started forward and I held her back.

“Look after yourself, Umber, promise me you will,” I hugged her.

“You are not one of those girls, Ciri17,” she hugged me. “I will miss you more than the sun in winter.” I held back tears then left with my mind anticipating the brute waiting for me.

Author's Note

did you find many grammar errors? What did you think of the dialogue? How is the wording?