Kajsa does arts® and writes® :D

[Bird Furious she/her/un/important]

2 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

I KNOW

I NEEDED A PLACEHOLDER WHILE I FIGURE A DIFFERENT ONE OUT

thanks  

i actually hate zack so much

like

Fr

my only critique is that it’s too sad

…and isn’t rly cohesive with her personality at the beginning of the dungeon rp when she was just a side character but that’s ok cuz she evolved 

well done 

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

2 minutes ago, Halcyon The Only said:

Fr

my only critique is that it’s too sad

…and isn’t rly cohesive with her personality at the beginning of the dungeon rp when she was just a side character but that’s ok cuz she evolved 

well done 

yeah she was very different

don't worry it'll get better

it gets worse first but then it gets better  

[Edema Rue she/her]

1 hour ago, Kajsa said:

hello my dears and darlings!

for context, i've had this character for a few years now, and my subconscious mind has very conveniently been working on her backstory for that time (as well as my conscious mind lol), but i've never really taken the time to write until roughly this past week. it's not edited yet, but i'm excited for people to read it and give feedback. i'll continue to update as i write more installments! thanks for taking the time to check this out.

here are the first several installments of Kiesha Ebersol's tragedy  

  Reveal hidden contents

TRIGGER WARNINGS: THIS NARRATIVE INCLUDES DEPICTIONS AND/OR MENTIONS OF THE FOLLOWING: VIOLENCE, ABUSE, GASLIGHTING, MANIPULATION, SEXUAL ASSAULT, DEPRESSIVE THEMES/THOUGHTS, HOPELESSNESS, AND PROBABLY MORE THAT I'M FORGETTING. IT'S OVERALL VERY SAD AND HAS MANY MATURE THEMES SO UH YEAH THIS IS MY DISCLAIMER. also it's like completely unedited/very minimally edited so i apologize for that--

Also, unfortunately, most of my formatting has been removed during the copy/paste over to the shard, so I apologize, but what can ya do haha. I'm not about to go through the whole thing and italicize everything again xD
alright i'll stop blabbering now ENJOY!!!!! let me know what you think :3:D

Kiesha swiped the back of her hand across her slick forehead, pausing to press it against an oncoming headache. She still clutched the blue fabric in her hands; it cascaded down onto her work table and threatened to drop onto the dirty floor. 

She only had two hours left of her shift, and then she could collect her pay, mail it off to Kieran, and go home to Zack. The thought filled her with both excitement and unease. She could only hope he wouldn’t ask about rent. She wasn’t making enough as it was.

Weary, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the steamy, metallic air and collapsed into her wobbly wooden chair. Sticking her needle into the pincushion, she wadded up the fabric so it would stay on her desk. She just needed a few minutes. 

She was already working on her second dress of the day and had watched nearly every other worker come and go. There were only a few others working shifts as long as hers, and both of them were single women with babies at home. 

As she glanced around, one of them–a war widow with sad brown eyes–shot her a sympathetic smile, brushing her blonde hair away from her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak but snapped it closed just as suddenly. She turned back to her work, clearing her throat.

Kiesha scrambled to stand, but the foreman had already seen her. He sauntered over with his empty hands shoved in his pockets and that obnoxious, smug look on his face. 

“Looks like we’ve got a slacker on our hands, eh, Ebersol?”

She’d managed to retrieve the needle from the cushion by the time he’d made it to her work table, but he slammed his hand down on the fabric before she could start a new seam. 

“I’ve been here eleven hours,” she said dryly. 

“That’s right, missy. And you’ll be here a lot longer if you don’t pick up the pace, mm?” His fingers rapped against the table, and she closed her eyes as he moved to squeeze her shoulders. 

“Get off, would you?”

“You wouldn’t want wind of your little break getting down to the higher-ups,” he informed  her. She could feel his sticky, stale breath against her skin. “It’s payday, miss Ebersol.”

“I said get off, would you?”

“I’d be willing to pull some of their strings if you’d let me pull just a few of yours,” he whispered, lips so near her ear they brushed it. She jerked away, freeing herself of his hands, but she was still trapped between her table and his body. “Just think of your poor brother, Kiesha. Couldn’t he use a few extra shillings?”

“Don’t.”

“I could give you a promotion,” he continued, leaning down so his breath was hot on the back of her neck again, making her wish she hadn’t tied up her hair. His hand brushed her side, and she half-heartedly thrashed, trying to get him off her.

This wasn’t an uncommon situation for her, or for any of the other workers here, and though the foreman usually left after being denied more than three times, he seemed determined today. She glanced around. Unsurprisingly, nobody was watching. She could see them listening, heads bowed as they worked, but she knew nobody would do a thing even if he dragged her into that closet under the stairs by her hair. If there was one thing these workers were good at, it was staying silent about the business of the foreman. 

You talked, and you didn’t get paid. Nobody working here could afford that.

Kiesha felt his fingers grip her shoulders harder, so hard it hurt.

“I’ll let you off early and see you get paid a little tip, missy. How’s that, mm?”

“Let me work.”

“I’m offering you a job,” he persisted.

“I don’t want it.”

He fell silent for a moment, then growled and let her go, thrusting her into the table. She yelped, then once more as the back of his hand struck her cheek. She blinked back tears, face burning from shame and from the blow, but then he was gone, and she was left to work in peace. 

She hung her head and retrieved her needle from the pincushion once more, threading it and pushing it through the fabric, in and out until the monotony took over while the clock ticked away. 

She could already feel the bruise blooming underneath her skin.

 

—

 

Two and a half hours later, Kiesha knocked on the door to hers and Zack’s apartment. She didn’t have a key, but he got off work hours before her—he was always home to let her in. After a minute or so, he opened the door and grinned. “Hey, babe. Come inside.”

She stepped into the apartment, head bowed. It was cool inside, which was a refreshing change from the sweltering heat of the factory. While it wasn’t anything fancy, the place was nicely furnished and let in lots of light during the daytime. Now, though, the shutters were closed, and candles flickered in the corners.

Zack smelled of paper and ink like always, but there was a hint of something else today, something almost artificial. It smelled like the fresh air she got too little of—it was too sweet to be natural but nice all the same. 

She embraced him, inhaling several deep breaths of whatever it was before pulling away and setting down her knapsack. “I’ll put dinner on.”

“Good. I’m starving.” He followed her into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair while she fished out the potatoes from the cupboard, along with a knife. She carried them over to the sink to rinse and peel them. 

“How was work?” She let the knife slide under the skin of the potato, hands quick and deft. 

“Oh, fine. Boring. You?”

“Fine,” she told him in a manner that wouldn’t have been convincing to anyone else.

“Today was payday,” he mentioned.

“Yes,” she said softly, rinsing the potato. She set it aside on a cloth. 

He frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“The foreman docked my pay.”

He groaned. “Come on, Kiesha. What’d you do this time?”

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, then thought better and closed it.

Zack stared at her in disbelief. “Go on, spit it out.”

“He caught me taking a break,” she murmured.

“You can’t keep getting your pay docked,” he muttered back, bitter. 

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Things have just been weird lately. And I… haven’t heard from my family in a while.”

“Maybe they don’t need your money anymore.”

“I hardly make anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been here a long time. You’re sending them everything you don’t pay me for rent.”

“My brother almost died in a wild bear attack, Zack. You know this.”

“I know.”

“I have nine siblings and two parents to feed on top of his bills!” Of course, Hera did what she could, but with two sets of triplets not yet in their teens, a toddler, and an older brother in critical condition to worry about, she had enough on her hands. 

“I know.”

Kiesha didn’t have anything else to say, so she prepared the rest of their stew in silence as he watched from his chair. She put it on to simmer, then retreated to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. 

She reached for a candle and a match, illuminating the small room with warm, flickering light. It was a decent room, with a bed and a nightstand and even a rug. Though it was void of any personal belongings save for a hairbrush and a few other necessities, the air was clean, and the blankets were warm, and the bed was comfortable, which was more than enough to be grateful for. It had a small window on the far wall, which she crossed to in order to pull the curtains shut so she could undress. 

One of the panes was broken, but it let a breeze in throughout the night, which reminded Kiesha of home back on the coast, with the salty ocean air and misty sea spray. So when Zack had noticed and inquired why she hadn’t told him, she’d assured him she didn’t want it fixed, to which he’d replied that he didn’t want anything to happen to her–and she should always let him know about any damage that occurred to his apartment. 

It took some convincing, but eventually, he’d agreed to let it stay like that.

She smiled in remembrance as she pulled her dirty work dress up over her head and tossed it onto her bed. Peeling her chemise away from her sticky skin, she crossed to the basin of water below the mirror.

It was empty.

Frowning, she grabbed her dress and held it against her chest like a shield, then crossed over to the door and poked her head out. “Honey?”

“Hmm?” His response came from the kitchen, but then his chair creaked and the floorboards groaned as he made his way over. 

“Can I use your sink?”

He frowned, coming close. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s empty.”

“Oh. …I guess.”

She smiled gratefully and pushed past into his room. His basin was full.

Kiesha set her dress on the rug and dipped her hands in. The water was cold, sending wonderful shivers all over her skin. She bent over and brought the water to her face, scrubbing off dirt and sweat, letting it run into her hair and down her neck. When she straightened, hands grabbed her shoulders. She flinched, instinctively trying to pull away. But the hands on her shoulders were only Zack’s.

She closed her eyes, relaxing, reaching up to squeeze one of his hands. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, leaning down to press his face into her neck. His arms wrapped around her waist. She stared at him in the mirror, and after a moment, he looked back and cracked that soft smile that gave her the best butterflies. “You’re beautiful.”

Her face tinged pink, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you.” She reached up to take the kerchief and pins out of her hair. It fell in soft, dark waves around her face, almost to her waist. She dropped the kerchief to the rug, too, figuring she’d put her things away in a little bit. She leaned back against Zack, reaching one hand up behind her to bury it in his soft, dark hair. He swayed them both in return, closing his eyes and smiling that beautiful smile again.

“You’re welcome.” He paused to kiss her cheek, then opened his eyes and evidently noticed her dress on the rug. He straightened, holding her in a different sort of way. “Your clothes look good on my floor.”

Kiesha stiffened. “Zack.”

“It was a joke,” he assured her. But the way he leaned down and kissed her neck said otherwise.

“Zack,” she croaked again, scared to move but more afraid to stay where she was. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, planting several more kisses down the side of her neck.

“Za–”

Before she could finish, he’d turned her to face him and pressed his mouth to hers. 

Panic buzzed in her lungs, but realizing how gentle he was, she melted into the embrace and kissed him in return. His hands, his lips, his hair—everything was soft, even the way she could feel his warmth through her chemise. 

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, warm and content, wrapped in each others’ arms. Until he tugged her down with him to sit on the bed. 

Kiesha tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “Zack, please. We’ve been through this.”

He growled deep in his throat, frustration soiling his expression as she stood. “I know, Kiesha! Calm down!”

“I am calm,” she murmured, smoothing back his hair to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

He paused, opening his mouth to speak several times before finally saying, “Then why don’t you act like it?”

Kiesha blinked. But… 

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m exhausted, baby. I’m trying.”

He scowled. “Prove it.”

“I’m not having—”

“I know. You’ve made that very clear.” He let go of her. “If you love me, you’ll do what I tell you, won’t you? You trust me.”

“I… yes. Yes, of course.”

“Go over to the window.”

Kiesha frowned but unwaveringly obeyed.

“Open up the shutters and break one of the panes for me,” he murmured.

“With what?”

“Your hand.”

An unsettling silence fell over them, and she must have hesitated a few seconds too long, because he exploded, storming over to the window and slamming his fist through one, two, three of the panes. Shards of glass stuck from his flesh, tinted by his blood. 

Kiesha gasped, reaching out and hauling him away from the window. “Zack! Stop it! You’re hurting yourself!”

“Look what you made me do, Kiesha!” He shoved his bloodied hand at her. “Look at what you did to me!”

Hot tears welled up in her eyes, along with a tight lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I should have just… I wasn’t trying to hurt you!”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Give me your hand.”

She didn’t hesitate this time. She didn’t want to hurt him again. 

He took her hand, turning it over in his own and tracing the lines, and then he guided it to the window. His touch was gentle, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated again. Her voice was swallowed up as soon as the words came out.

He forced her hand down on one of the sharp, jagged pieces of glass that stuck up from the windowsill, and she screamed, fading into quieter yelps and whimpers.

“This is what happens when you don’t trust me, Kiesha,” he whispered. “Bad things happen.”

She moaned as the glass dug deeper into her flesh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Zack.”

“I know. And I forgive you.” He let go of her hand, and she pulled it away from the window, trembling from the pain. Blood pooled in her palm, dark and glistening. Tears swam in her eyes from the pain as she nodded. Zac broke off the bloodied shard from the window and placed it in her wounded hand. “I forgive you.”

She nodded again, watching as he drew glass shards out of his knuckles and set them aside on the nightstand. 

She watched for a while, frozen, before moving to get some bandages from the lockbox in his closet. The crude key was where he always kept it, tucked into the pocket of that jacket she’d bought him a year ago. 

The one he never wore.

She unlocked the box and withdrew a smaller wooden chest that contained rolls of bandages, gauze, and other similar articles. She hastily wrapped her hand in some gauze, then brought the kit out and sat on the bed next to him. Opening the lid, she procured a cloth and a glass bottle of alcohol. It was silent as she cleaned his wounds and wrapped a length of bandage around his hand. She tied it off, then kissed his exposed fingers.

The medical kit was returned to the lockbox in the closet, and suddenly Kiesha remembered the stew over the fire.

“I’m going to finish making dinner,” she told him, moving back over to where he was perched on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“...okay. That’s fine. I’ll just…” She took a deep breath, then moved back over to the sink to collect her dress and kerchief. He called to her as she reached for the door.

“Kiesha.”

“Yeah?”

“We match now. Our windows.”

A smile spread across her face despite herself, and she turned to face him. “They do, don’t they?”

He grinned back—that perfect smile that melted those icy blue eyes into something gentler. 

“Goodnight, Zack.”

“Goodnight, Kiesha. You know I love you, right?”

She offered another soft smile, nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied, so she left and moved to the kitchen to eat and put away the soup he hadn’t touched. 

—

 

Kiesha straightened, tying off the thread and appraising her work. Due to her long hours, skill, and efficiency, she’d been given a special project, something far more elaborate than the basic shifts, work dresses, and other garments her department usually made. If this came out right… well, she’d be earning a much better salary. She’d be given a better working area upstairs, and she might even be able to afford a new pair of shoes. 

She looked down at the ones she wore now before glancing back up at her creation on her table. The difference was startling; her boots were a musty sort of greyish-brown and dirtier than the devil, not to mention they were wearing through in several places. Her blue work dress wasn’t blue anymore, faded and patched in so many places it was hardly the same thing it had been when she’d first got it. Her apron had holes in it and had, over time, turned from white to off-white to limp shade of grey.

The work in front of her, however, was a different story. 

For the past several weeks, she’d designed, drafted, and sewn a real dress, one a proper lady would wear if it was deemed fit. The embroidery and beadwork was unlike anything she’d done before, and the materials she’d worked with would have taken her years to afford. It was, by far, the best thing she’d ever made. 

It had been difficult at first, with the condition of her hand, but over time, it had healed, and she’d regained full dexterity; she got pain like pins and needles and cramps in her fingers sometimes, and there was a large, jagged scar in her palm from the wound, but she’d learned to work with it, and it served as a good reminder to trust Zack. 

Bad things happen when you don’t, she would remind herself. He’s testing you.

Blind obedience was better than painful consequence, right?

Sighing, she took the dress and draped it neatly over her arm. The client, conveniently, had similar measurements to Kiesha’s, so it was easy to judge the fit by putting it on. 

She moved to the washroom, which was the only room in the establishment with a mirror. Besides, it was usually very clean, so there wasn’t a risk of wrecking the gown. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, then carefully set her project on a wooden bench. 

She couldn’t believe the way it glittered like that, even in the dim light of the washroom. She stared at it, mesmerized by the shimmer of the fabric and the sparkling beadwork, then glanced at her own reflection. Dirty, faded, tired. 

The bags under her eyes and their redness had repelled the foreman, at least. 

She sighed, scrubbing her apron over her dirty face, trying to scour away the misery there before she could think too hard about the squalor and poverty she’d been consigned to. Then she untied it, placing it on the bench. She stripped her waistless work dress, too, and swapped it with the wine red gown, which she pulled carefully over her head and managed to get cinched in the back on her own. She’d accidentally left a pin in it, which poked her painfully. She plucked it out and set it on top of her work dress, then appraised her work in the mirror. 

The skirt was a little too long, and the waist was a bit too tight, but it had been designed to be worn over a crinoline and a corset. It fit everywhere else, and it moved stunningly.

To see the full effect, she reached up and pulled off her kerchief, unpinning her hair. It was a bit wrinkled, and she hadn’t washed it for a few days, but after running her fingers through it, it cascaded over her shoulders in waves, messy and textured and dark but somehow pretty. It made her dark circles look less pronounced, her skin smoother, her lips softer. If she’d been wearing makeup, she would have been completely unrecognizable. Beautiful. Powerful. Rich.

She twisted around to see a few more angles of it, making note of a few seams to pick and straighten, a few beads to take off and some to add—small details to fix, really, but overall, she was satisfied. 

As she started to untie the ribbons in the back, the door behind her creaked. 

She’d forgotten to lock it.

Stars.

Kiesha whirled around and nearly slammed straight into the foreman’s chest. He clamped a hand over her mouth, making it even harder to breathe than it already was, and she thrashed.

“Shh,” he snapped, snatching her hand. “Stop it.” He pressed on the scar, where the flesh was still tender. 

She stopped struggling, little black spots peppering her vision. Tears formed in her eyes.

“You need help with those laces?”

She shook her head, hard, but he just pressed harder on the scar. Her knees nearly buckled from the pressure in her head, and she whimpered against his dirty hand.

“That’s what I thought,” he hissed, forcing her to turn and face away from him. “You’re not gonna make a sound, you understand me? No paycheck for the tattlers.”

Kiesha hardly heard what he’d said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way out of this as the foreman started yanking on the ties. She had to brace herself against the wall to keep from stumbling and falling.

She couldn’t hit him. She wasn’t strong enough to do the damage she needed if she wanted to escape. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t just try to run. He’d surely hurt her if she tried. She needed to wound him—but how, she didn’t know. 

The dress hit the floor with a dull thud, and the foreman let out a breath that almost sounded like wonder. 

As if he hadn’t seen a million women in their chemises before.

He ordered her to face him again, and Kiesha didn’t have much of a choice. As she turned, though, something glinted in the shifting light.

The pin. Of course. If she could just get to it…

The foreman reached out and grabbed her waist in his hands, pushing her back toward the wall–or trying. She let her knees crumple under her, and she landed right on the bench. Her hand searched for the pin, and she nearly grabbed it right as his hand made contact with her face in a hard, shocking slap. 

“Get up,” he growled.

“I have weak knees,” she lied, voice soft, hand closing around the pin. “That’s why I take so many breaks…”

He frowned, scowling at her. His dark eyes searched her pale ones, an abyss of hatred and loathing, trying to read her soul. “I said get up.”

She managed to stand–her knees really did feel weak–and he lunged, pushing her into the wall. His face was just breaths away, and his hands were closing around her shift, ready to tear, and suddenly she knew where to hurt him. 

At the same time the neck of her chemise ripped, she speared the pin through one of his terrible black eyes. Her stomach churned as blood spurted from the wound and he jerked away, howling in pain. She scrambled for her work dress, holding it to her chest as she bolted for the door, gown forgotten.

He was still screaming and yowling, doubled over, hands covering his blood-logged eye.

She reached for the knob, but it flung open before she could get out.

A tall, middle-aged man stood in the doorway, wearing a tailcoat and a top hat and an expensive-looking pocket watch. His face was panicked, but it hardened when he saw her. He had grizzly stubble, but otherwise, he looked generally well-kempt and put together. 

She recognized him as the department manager–he’d given her the opportunity to sew that dress–the one at the foreman’s feet.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded, pushing past her to see the foreman clutching the edge of the sink with one hand, the other trembling one trying to find and extract the pin. Blood streamed down his face, and the manager’s face purpled. He whirled on Kiesha.

“I–he—I was in here to make sure that dress would fit her, and—and he came in, and–and, well, I had a pin I forgot to take out of the dress, and he tried to–so I stabbed him with the pin—”

“Liar,” the foreman spat. The sink water was rapidly staining red. “This whore was in here waiting for me! She practically flung herself at me, and what was I supposed to do? Before I knew it, she’d driven a needle into my eye!”

Angry tears streamed down Kiesha’s face, and then she really did fling herself at the foreman, punching and scratching and screaming horrible things at him. His fist struck her brow in retaliation, and she stumbled back, seeing stars. The manager caught her and hauled her away from the foreman, restraining her. She kicked and fought, still screaming at the foreman, who was stumbling and swaying.

The manager grabbed Kiesha’s work dress off the floor, shoved it into her arms, and ordered her to wait in his office. She blinked at him, and slowly, the adrenaline and rage faded into shame, and her heart slowed down. She bowed her head and nodded, then pulled her dress over her head and made her way out of the washroom.

There was a different kind of silence in the main workspace, and several young women stared at Kiesha with wide, curious eyes. 

Her face flushed, hot with embarrassment and shame, and she fled upstairs to the manager’s office, waiting anxiously. There was a nameplate on his desk that read Charles Livingston.

Books lined the walls, save for one of them, on which was hung a large cork board with all kinds of papers hung up. Some were lists or little notes and reminders, but most were drawings and sketches of the establishment. She hadn’t realized he was an architect.

She was there for nearly half an hour, noticing other things about him and his office, before he appeared, spattered with the foreman’s blood, clothes and hair rumpled. His hat was nowhere to be seen, and he looked solemn. Kiesha swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.

He motioned for her to sit at the stool in front of his desk, and he took his place in his chair across from her. He folded his hands on top of his desk and appraised her through spectacles she hadn’t noticed before. 

“Miss Ebersol… you’ve been working here a long time. I think it’s strange you’ve never moved up in the world—you work long shifts, and you’re a very good employee. Skilled. Thorough. But I see why now. How long have you been working as a whore?”

Kiesha blinked, staring at him incredulously. “I’m sorry?”

He didn’t say anything, just examined her through those shiny, expensive glasses. She probably wouldn’t have been able to afford something like them with an entire month’s wages. Bitterness swirled in her chest, bubbling under her ribs.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Livingston. I don’t—see, it’s my brother. My twin brother. He got in an accident a year ago, and he’s been in the hospital ever since. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s really very expensive, and I have eight other siblings, and my parents’ jobs aren’t bringing in hardly any money, see, and I’ve got rent to pay, and at the end of the day I’ve got nothing at all.”

“A completely logical reason for a girl like you to turn to your line of work,” he assured her. “I’m not judging you, Miss Ebersol. How long have you been working in that industry?”

“I haven’t,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it, Mr. Livingston.”

“Then why were you waiting in the washroom for Mr. Slicker, Kiesha?”

“Miss Ebersol will do fine,” she corrected, taking a breath. “I wasn’t waiting for him. I went in there because there’s a mirror, and I needed to make sure the dress was going to fit the client. We have very similar measurements, and I was just about to leave when the foreman–”

“Mr. Slicker.”

“–came inside and threatened me. He hurt me and said if I tried to scream, he’d take my money, and I can’t afford that, Mr. Livingston—I need that money for my family and my brother, and I have to pay my boyfriend, see, he’s letting me stay in an extra room in his apartment, and I don’t have anywhere else to go if I can’t pay him, and—”

“Miss Ebersol. I understand. Get back to your story, please.”

Kiesha took a deep breath, nodding. “Right. Sorry. Well, he took the dress off me, and he… he tore my chemise, but I’d accidentally left a pin in one of the sleeves on the dress, so I… I used it to protect myself. Mr. Livingston, sir, he’s assaulted so many girls working down there… I couldn’t just let him do what he wanted to me and allow him to keep hurting us.”

Charles frowned, then wet his lips. He looked pensive. 

“He’ll never admit to it, but he’s done horrible things. We’ve all seen how it goes, and—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because he threatened me. He said he’d take my wages, and I was… I was afraid I’d be next. He’s had it out for me ever since I got here, Mr. Livingston.” She wrapped her arms around herself, gaze frozen on the rich mahogany of his desk and the gold in his nameplate. 

Such simple things. 

It made her angry. He probably never thought about them. Never thought about that fancy pocket watch on his corduroy suit or his room full of books or those spectacles on his nose. They were just things he had.

She would have done anything for them. 

The simple, everyday amenities that merely existed in his life would have changed her entire world.

“What would the other girls in your department say about this, Miss Ebersol?”

“I… I’m not sure. Some might admit. Others… will be too afraid.”

“Look me in the face, Kiesha.”

“Miss Ebersol.”

“Miss Ebersol,” he amended.

She brought her gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Of course I am. Do you take me for a liar, Mr. Livingston?”

He studied her face, then shook his head, gaze falling to the papers on his desk, which he shuffled aimlessly around. “No. No, I don’t.”

Kiesha nodded. That was good—but she didn’t think her credibility would go far here. It was very unlikely the manager would believe a bottom-of-the-rung employee—a woman—over his foreman. 

“Why don’t you go home for the day,” he suggested. “Get some rest. I’m going to chat with some people and figure out what the best course of action is here.”

She wanted to protest; she needed all the money she could get her hands on. Hera’s last letter had been absolutely desperate. But she was exhausted and scared, and all she wanted was to go home to Zack and let him hold her in his strong, warm arms, though she wasn’t sure if he’d be back from work yet.

Kiesha nodded. “Alright,” she murmured, standing from the stool. She brushed her hands off on her skirt, and Charles stood to walk her out of his office. She gave him a half-hearted smile, which he returned in his own respect, and she went back down the stairs. 

On her way out, she took a spool of thread and a needle from her work desk to fix her chemise when she got home, trying to avoid the curious eyes of the other girls. She kept her head ducked, so her hair formed a sort of curtain around her face, blocking it from view. 

She shoved the materials in her satchel and pushed out the door, noticing for the first time how sore she was. During their skirmish, he’d hit her in more places than she’d originally thought, and she noted a split lip as she passed the window of a bakery.

Her stomach growled painfully, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for several days. She had–like usual–sent her entire paycheck back home to Hera, and recently, Zack had started refusing to let her eat what he paid for—or use anything he paid for, for that matter. She supposed it was fair, since she didn’t share any of her money with him. 

It felt strange to be out on the streets this early, while it was still light outside and the sun was high. 

It was getting cooler outside by the day, but with the sun shining down on the city and the warmth coming from the shops, it felt really nice. She took a deep breath of the crisp air, suddenly glad the city she lived in was known for its cleanliness. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much better than other cities she’d heard of. 

She didn’t have much, but at least she had that.

A vague thought crossed her mind as she passed the post office, and she decided to go see if she’d received anything from Hera in the past couple of days. The postman smiled when he saw her and immediately retrieved a letter from her sister, holding it out to her. “Ma’am.”

Kiesha smiled at him and took it. 

He was a sturdy man, if a bit round, with a kind face and greying hair. He wore spectacles, presumably for reading, and his eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled. 

“Thank you,” Kiesha said, turning the envelope over in her hands and breaking the seal. She moved over to a bench to read it. 

The handwriting was shaky, and it was more of a note than a letter.  

 

Kiesha -

 

I know you’re doing as much as you can, but it’s not enough. You need to find a better job. Half of them are sick with scarlet fever. 

Mom’s dead.

 

- Hera

 

Kiesha stared at the letter in disbelief, gripping the page with both hands. 

She read the words over and over again, trying to find her mistake, trying to stumble upon what she’d read wrong, but the words didn’t change. They stayed right where they were, no matter how hard she tried to make them rearrange themselves.

She raised a hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut to discourage the hot tears forming, trying to force the words out of her mind. She brought her other hand to her head, too, the unfolded letter hanging limply between her fingers.

If she hadn’t read it, it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. 

She’d done everything she could. 

Surely…

Surely…

“Miss Ebersol?”

Kiesha looked up to see the postman standing over her, brow furrowed in concern. He eased himself onto the bench next to her, with at least a foot of space between them. That was refreshing, at least.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh… um….” she blinked a few times, and some of the tears fell loose. She immediately scrubbed them away, standing suddenly. “I need to go home.” She shoved the letter into her bag, not caring how crumpled it got. 

The postman watched as she fled the shop, tearing her hands through her hair and trying to think of somewhere to go. She couldn’t face Zack like this. She spun around, surveying her surroundings, but there wasn’t anywhere she could go. She didn’t know anyone in this city aside from Zack, a few of her coworkers, the postman, and the baker. She only knew the streets she used to get to and from work, since she didn’t have any free time to spend at the park or in a cafe or a tavern. The only place she could go was home. 

She realized vaguely she was already walking in that direction. 

It felt like she was watching everything happen around her from behind some sort of warped veil or screen, and the sounds weren’t quite as vivid, and the smells weren’t hardly as strong. She felt like she was floating above it all, an actor in a show she didn’t know the script of. 

It took her twice as long to get home than usual, but she was still hours ahead of her normal schedule. It was late afternoon, though, so she had hope he would be home. Her knuckles rapped softly against the door, and the knocking felt strangely as hollow as she felt. She clutched her bag a little tighter.

The door swung open, but it wasn’t Zack. 

She had long golden hair with eyes that matched, fair skin, and a dusting of freckles across a button nose. She looked surprised to see Kiesha, and she smelled like… like that too-sweet-fresh-air scent she’d picked up on Zack for the past couple of weeks.

Kiesha stared at her in utter disbelief.

He couldn’t be… he wasn’t really…

Her throat tightened, and her chest constricted, and her stomach heaved, and she thought she was going to be sick. 

She’d trusted him. Because bad things happened when she didn’t. 

She pushed past the girl. Maybe this wasn’t what she thought. The girl’s clothes were too fine, she wore one too many necklaces, she was too well-kempt to be with Zack. 

Zack couldn’t afford things like that. He could hardly afford to feed himself, let alone Kiesha.

Zack was inside, leaning on the kitchen table and eating some leftover soup she’d made the night before. His face turned bone white as soon as he saw her, and he choked on the soup. “K-Kiesha! You’re back early.”

“Looks like you were, too,” Kiesha said softly, just a bite of bitterness behind the words. 

“Honey, it’s not like that. This is Bella. She’s a friend from work.”

“You said you only worked with men.”

“Yeah, until recently. She’s more educated than most girls. She passed the entrance exam.”

Bella flashed an obnoxiously bright smile. Kiesha noticed resentfully that her eyes were slightly off-kilter, and her lips were too big for her face, and though slender, her nose was too long. 

“Well, isn’t that nice,” she said quietly. She didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with this today, and she was tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt. She loved him, of course, but he could be utterly exhausting.

“You trust me, don’t you?” For some reason, it sounded like a threat, and Kiesha was noticing it for the first time.

“O-of course.”

“Good. How was your day?”

She bit the inside lining of her cheek, so hard she tasted blood. 

His face melted into something that almost looked like genuine concern. He led her into her bedroom, which Kiesha thought was strange because usually they had private conversations in his. 

He sat her down on the bed and settled next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, the foreman has been harrassing me for months and finally decided to try his luck, so I stabbed him through the eye with a pin, and then I got in trouble, and I think I’m going to lose my job, and I just got a letter from my sister that my mom died.”

Zack was silent for a second, apparently trying to absorb all that information at once. “The foreman,” he began. “Is that why your face is…”

“Busted up?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“So… so let me get this straight. Y-you stabbed the foreman because he tried to kiss you—”

“He tried to rape me.”

“—whatever. And now you’re losing your job.”

“I… I don’t know that yet,” she stammered timidly, taken aback at how quickly he’d dismissed that news. 

Zack sighed, running his hands through his hair and giving her that look he always did whenever she talked about her job or anything to do with money. 

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

He cut her off, wrapping her in a sudden, tight hug that felt realer than she’d expected it to. “We’ll figure this out once your boss gets back to you, okay?”

“...okay,” she whispered. 

“It’s going to be fine.”

She nodded, trying her very best to believe him. 

 

—

 

Things didn’t end up being fine. She’d gone back to work the next day and received the news that it would be her last. Because of her actions, she was considered a ‘danger to other employees’ and had to be ‘removed from the environment’. She’d collected her last paycheck, which had a bonus attached to keep her afloat until she could find her next job, and left that afternoon for good. 

What her next job would be, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t good at much besides domestic pursuits, like baking and sewing and cooking, but there wasn’t exactly demand for seamstresses or bakers, and she wasn’t on the market to get married. 

Zack had given her a week to find a new job, and the week had passed, and now she stood in her room, pretending to pack the personal belongings she didn’t have. 

She was almost certain Bella would be moving in as soon as the door shut behind her. 

Kiesha covered her face in her hands, trying not to sob. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? 

A knock sounded at the door. “Time’s up, Kiesha.”

She closed her eyes, letting her hands drop to her sides. She grabbed her mostly empty bag off the nightstand and nodded. “Alright,” she murmured, barely a whisper. She glanced at the window. The broken pane had newly been replaced, and she could already smell that sickly sweet perfume filling up the room, making it near impossible to breathe. 

He tried to hug her as she moved over to the door, but she bristled and pushed him gently away. “Don’t.”

“Kiesha–”

“Please don’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he scowled. “Fine.”

She brushed past him, out into the main room, toward the front door, but she paused as she reached for the knob. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“What?”

“Bella.”

He took a deep breath, and she could see in his face that he was steeling himself to lie.

“Tell me the truth.”

“F…. four months.”

Kiesha closed her eyes. Four months. “You’ve been using my rent to pay for that jewelry she was wearing,” she accused.

He didn’t deny it.

“Oh my stars, Zack.” She turned to face him, eyes filling with salt. Her grip on her bag slackened, and her knees felt weak, and she felt her last bit of strength melt away, sliding between her fingers. “Do you understand how messed up that is?”

He was still silent.

“Nothing to say, huh?” She scoffed, and it nearly turned into a sob. She hung her head, pressing the back of her hand to her brow, trying to keep it together.

 “My mom’s dead because of you. My siblings are dying –and for what?? Those gold chains on her neck?! Gild you, Zack! Gild you to the stars and back!”

“You got anything else to say?” He growled, advancing on her.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” she spat back, raising her gaze to look at him and backing against the door. “But I won’t give you anything to use against me. I’ve been everything you could ask for and more, Zack. And this—this—is how you decide to repay me.”

He scowled silently, absolutely seething. 

“You did this to yourself,” she whispered, and then she slipped out the door and closed it softly. She heard the lock click behind her. 

Kiesha nearly crumpled as she stared out at the cobbled streets, feeling weaker than ever. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on the front steps and sob until Bella got here, and he opened the door, and she would beg him with everything in her to take her back, to just give her a little more time, and she would scrounge something up–but she knew now. She knew what he was. 

He’d never loved her. 

She’d been nothing more than a convenience, someone who made dinner for him and loved him and kissed and held him and took care of him, all while paying him to stay in the house she maintained, and she would have married him in time if he’d asked her to. 

It was, in part, her own fault. If she hadn’t been so naive, maybe she would have seen the signs and escaped before it was too late. Before, she could have done something. 

Now, she was penniless, homeless, and aimless. 

She had nowhere to go.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

 

—

 

Start here

oh and here's a playlist i've made for Kiesha in case you're into that kind of thing

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@Edema Rue @Through The Living Glass @Wittles @Cash67

 

Poor girl.

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

4 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Poor girl.

i know : (

Spoiler

*kajsa said as if she wasn't the reason it all happened--*

 

[Edema Rue she/her]

30 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

i know : (

  Reveal hidden contents

*kajsa said as if she wasn't the reason it all happened--*

 

:((

Spoiler

Been there, done that…

 

[Wittles he/him]

6 hours ago, Kajsa said:

hello my dears and darlings!

for context, i've had this character for a few years now, and my subconscious mind has very conveniently been working on her backstory for that time (as well as my conscious mind lol), but i've never really taken the time to write until roughly this past week. it's not edited yet, but i'm excited for people to read it and give feedback. i'll continue to update as i write more installments! thanks for taking the time to check this out.

here are the first several installments of Kiesha Ebersol's tragedy  

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TRIGGER WARNINGS: THIS NARRATIVE INCLUDES DEPICTIONS AND/OR MENTIONS OF THE FOLLOWING: VIOLENCE, ABUSE, GASLIGHTING, MANIPULATION, SEXUAL ASSAULT, DEPRESSIVE THEMES/THOUGHTS, HOPELESSNESS, AND PROBABLY MORE THAT I'M FORGETTING. IT'S OVERALL VERY SAD AND HAS MANY MATURE THEMES SO UH YEAH THIS IS MY DISCLAIMER. also it's like completely unedited/very minimally edited so i apologize for that--

Also, unfortunately, most of my formatting has been removed during the copy/paste over to the shard, so I apologize, but what can ya do haha. I'm not about to go through the whole thing and italicize everything again xD
alright i'll stop blabbering now ENJOY!!!!! let me know what you think :3:D

Kiesha swiped the back of her hand across her slick forehead, pausing to press it against an oncoming headache. She still clutched the blue fabric in her hands; it cascaded down onto her work table and threatened to drop onto the dirty floor. 

She only had two hours left of her shift, and then she could collect her pay, mail it off to Kieran, and go home to Zack. The thought filled her with both excitement and unease. She could only hope he wouldn’t ask about rent. She wasn’t making enough as it was.

Weary, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the steamy, metallic air and collapsed into her wobbly wooden chair. Sticking her needle into the pincushion, she wadded up the fabric so it would stay on her desk. She just needed a few minutes. 

She was already working on her second dress of the day and had watched nearly every other worker come and go. There were only a few others working shifts as long as hers, and both of them were single women with babies at home. 

As she glanced around, one of them–a war widow with sad brown eyes–shot her a sympathetic smile, brushing her blonde hair away from her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak but snapped it closed just as suddenly. She turned back to her work, clearing her throat.

Kiesha scrambled to stand, but the foreman had already seen her. He sauntered over with his empty hands shoved in his pockets and that obnoxious, smug look on his face. 

“Looks like we’ve got a slacker on our hands, eh, Ebersol?”

She’d managed to retrieve the needle from the cushion by the time he’d made it to her work table, but he slammed his hand down on the fabric before she could start a new seam. 

“I’ve been here eleven hours,” she said dryly. 

“That’s right, missy. And you’ll be here a lot longer if you don’t pick up the pace, mm?” His fingers rapped against the table, and she closed her eyes as he moved to squeeze her shoulders. 

“Get off, would you?”

“You wouldn’t want wind of your little break getting down to the higher-ups,” he informed  her. She could feel his sticky, stale breath against her skin. “It’s payday, miss Ebersol.”

“I said get off, would you?”

“I’d be willing to pull some of their strings if you’d let me pull just a few of yours,” he whispered, lips so near her ear they brushed it. She jerked away, freeing herself of his hands, but she was still trapped between her table and his body. “Just think of your poor brother, Kiesha. Couldn’t he use a few extra shillings?”

“Don’t.”

“I could give you a promotion,” he continued, leaning down so his breath was hot on the back of her neck again, making her wish she hadn’t tied up her hair. His hand brushed her side, and she half-heartedly thrashed, trying to get him off her.

This wasn’t an uncommon situation for her, or for any of the other workers here, and though the foreman usually left after being denied more than three times, he seemed determined today. She glanced around. Unsurprisingly, nobody was watching. She could see them listening, heads bowed as they worked, but she knew nobody would do a thing even if he dragged her into that closet under the stairs by her hair. If there was one thing these workers were good at, it was staying silent about the business of the foreman. 

You talked, and you didn’t get paid. Nobody working here could afford that.

Kiesha felt his fingers grip her shoulders harder, so hard it hurt.

“I’ll let you off early and see you get paid a little tip, missy. How’s that, mm?”

“Let me work.”

“I’m offering you a job,” he persisted.

“I don’t want it.”

He fell silent for a moment, then growled and let her go, thrusting her into the table. She yelped, then once more as the back of his hand struck her cheek. She blinked back tears, face burning from shame and from the blow, but then he was gone, and she was left to work in peace. 

She hung her head and retrieved her needle from the pincushion once more, threading it and pushing it through the fabric, in and out until the monotony took over while the clock ticked away. 

She could already feel the bruise blooming underneath her skin.

 

—

 

Two and a half hours later, Kiesha knocked on the door to hers and Zack’s apartment. She didn’t have a key, but he got off work hours before her—he was always home to let her in. After a minute or so, he opened the door and grinned. “Hey, babe. Come inside.”

She stepped into the apartment, head bowed. It was cool inside, which was a refreshing change from the sweltering heat of the factory. While it wasn’t anything fancy, the place was nicely furnished and let in lots of light during the daytime. Now, though, the shutters were closed, and candles flickered in the corners.

Zack smelled of paper and ink like always, but there was a hint of something else today, something almost artificial. It smelled like the fresh air she got too little of—it was too sweet to be natural but nice all the same. 

She embraced him, inhaling several deep breaths of whatever it was before pulling away and setting down her knapsack. “I’ll put dinner on.”

“Good. I’m starving.” He followed her into the kitchen and plopped down in a chair while she fished out the potatoes from the cupboard, along with a knife. She carried them over to the sink to rinse and peel them. 

“How was work?” She let the knife slide under the skin of the potato, hands quick and deft. 

“Oh, fine. Boring. You?”

“Fine,” she told him in a manner that wouldn’t have been convincing to anyone else.

“Today was payday,” he mentioned.

“Yes,” she said softly, rinsing the potato. She set it aside on a cloth. 

He frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“The foreman docked my pay.”

He groaned. “Come on, Kiesha. What’d you do this time?”

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, then thought better and closed it.

Zack stared at her in disbelief. “Go on, spit it out.”

“He caught me taking a break,” she murmured.

“You can’t keep getting your pay docked,” he muttered back, bitter. 

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Things have just been weird lately. And I… haven’t heard from my family in a while.”

“Maybe they don’t need your money anymore.”

“I hardly make anything.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been here a long time. You’re sending them everything you don’t pay me for rent.”

“My brother almost died in a wild bear attack, Zack. You know this.”

“I know.”

“I have nine siblings and two parents to feed on top of his bills!” Of course, Hera did what she could, but with two sets of triplets not yet in their teens, a toddler, and an older brother in critical condition to worry about, she had enough on her hands. 

“I know.”

Kiesha didn’t have anything else to say, so she prepared the rest of their stew in silence as he watched from his chair. She put it on to simmer, then retreated to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. 

She reached for a candle and a match, illuminating the small room with warm, flickering light. It was a decent room, with a bed and a nightstand and even a rug. Though it was void of any personal belongings save for a hairbrush and a few other necessities, the air was clean, and the blankets were warm, and the bed was comfortable, which was more than enough to be grateful for. It had a small window on the far wall, which she crossed to in order to pull the curtains shut so she could undress. 

One of the panes was broken, but it let a breeze in throughout the night, which reminded Kiesha of home back on the coast, with the salty ocean air and misty sea spray. So when Zack had noticed and inquired why she hadn’t told him, she’d assured him she didn’t want it fixed, to which he’d replied that he didn’t want anything to happen to her–and she should always let him know about any damage that occurred to his apartment. 

It took some convincing, but eventually, he’d agreed to let it stay like that.

She smiled in remembrance as she pulled her dirty work dress up over her head and tossed it onto her bed. Peeling her chemise away from her sticky skin, she crossed to the basin of water below the mirror.

It was empty.

Frowning, she grabbed her dress and held it against her chest like a shield, then crossed over to the door and poked her head out. “Honey?”

“Hmm?” His response came from the kitchen, but then his chair creaked and the floorboards groaned as he made his way over. 

“Can I use your sink?”

He frowned, coming close. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s empty.”

“Oh. …I guess.”

She smiled gratefully and pushed past into his room. His basin was full.

Kiesha set her dress on the rug and dipped her hands in. The water was cold, sending wonderful shivers all over her skin. She bent over and brought the water to her face, scrubbing off dirt and sweat, letting it run into her hair and down her neck. When she straightened, hands grabbed her shoulders. She flinched, instinctively trying to pull away. But the hands on her shoulders were only Zack’s.

She closed her eyes, relaxing, reaching up to squeeze one of his hands. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, leaning down to press his face into her neck. His arms wrapped around her waist. She stared at him in the mirror, and after a moment, he looked back and cracked that soft smile that gave her the best butterflies. “You’re beautiful.”

Her face tinged pink, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you.” She reached up to take the kerchief and pins out of her hair. It fell in soft, dark waves around her face, almost to her waist. She dropped the kerchief to the rug, too, figuring she’d put her things away in a little bit. She leaned back against Zack, reaching one hand up behind her to bury it in his soft, dark hair. He swayed them both in return, closing his eyes and smiling that beautiful smile again.

“You’re welcome.” He paused to kiss her cheek, then opened his eyes and evidently noticed her dress on the rug. He straightened, holding her in a different sort of way. “Your clothes look good on my floor.”

Kiesha stiffened. “Zack.”

“It was a joke,” he assured her. But the way he leaned down and kissed her neck said otherwise.

“Zack,” she croaked again, scared to move but more afraid to stay where she was. 

“Shhh,” he murmured, planting several more kisses down the side of her neck.

“Za–”

Before she could finish, he’d turned her to face him and pressed his mouth to hers. 

Panic buzzed in her lungs, but realizing how gentle he was, she melted into the embrace and kissed him in return. His hands, his lips, his hair—everything was soft, even the way she could feel his warmth through her chemise. 

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, warm and content, wrapped in each others’ arms. Until he tugged her down with him to sit on the bed. 

Kiesha tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “Zack, please. We’ve been through this.”

He growled deep in his throat, frustration soiling his expression as she stood. “I know, Kiesha! Calm down!”

“I am calm,” she murmured, smoothing back his hair to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

He paused, opening his mouth to speak several times before finally saying, “Then why don’t you act like it?”

Kiesha blinked. But… 

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m exhausted, baby. I’m trying.”

He scowled. “Prove it.”

“I’m not having—”

“I know. You’ve made that very clear.” He let go of her. “If you love me, you’ll do what I tell you, won’t you? You trust me.”

“I… yes. Yes, of course.”

“Go over to the window.”

Kiesha frowned but unwaveringly obeyed.

“Open up the shutters and break one of the panes for me,” he murmured.

“With what?”

“Your hand.”

An unsettling silence fell over them, and she must have hesitated a few seconds too long, because he exploded, storming over to the window and slamming his fist through one, two, three of the panes. Shards of glass stuck from his flesh, tinted by his blood. 

Kiesha gasped, reaching out and hauling him away from the window. “Zack! Stop it! You’re hurting yourself!”

“Look what you made me do, Kiesha!” He shoved his bloodied hand at her. “Look at what you did to me!”

Hot tears welled up in her eyes, along with a tight lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I should have just… I wasn’t trying to hurt you!”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Give me your hand.”

She didn’t hesitate this time. She didn’t want to hurt him again. 

He took her hand, turning it over in his own and tracing the lines, and then he guided it to the window. His touch was gentle, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated again. Her voice was swallowed up as soon as the words came out.

He forced her hand down on one of the sharp, jagged pieces of glass that stuck up from the windowsill, and she screamed, fading into quieter yelps and whimpers.

“This is what happens when you don’t trust me, Kiesha,” he whispered. “Bad things happen.”

She moaned as the glass dug deeper into her flesh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Zack.”

“I know. And I forgive you.” He let go of her hand, and she pulled it away from the window, trembling from the pain. Blood pooled in her palm, dark and glistening. Tears swam in her eyes from the pain as she nodded. Zac broke off the bloodied shard from the window and placed it in her wounded hand. “I forgive you.”

She nodded again, watching as he drew glass shards out of his knuckles and set them aside on the nightstand. 

She watched for a while, frozen, before moving to get some bandages from the lockbox in his closet. The crude key was where he always kept it, tucked into the pocket of that jacket she’d bought him a year ago. 

The one he never wore.

She unlocked the box and withdrew a smaller wooden chest that contained rolls of bandages, gauze, and other similar articles. She hastily wrapped her hand in some gauze, then brought the kit out and sat on the bed next to him. Opening the lid, she procured a cloth and a glass bottle of alcohol. It was silent as she cleaned his wounds and wrapped a length of bandage around his hand. She tied it off, then kissed his exposed fingers.

The medical kit was returned to the lockbox in the closet, and suddenly Kiesha remembered the stew over the fire.

“I’m going to finish making dinner,” she told him, moving back over to where he was perched on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“...okay. That’s fine. I’ll just…” She took a deep breath, then moved back over to the sink to collect her dress and kerchief. He called to her as she reached for the door.

“Kiesha.”

“Yeah?”

“We match now. Our windows.”

A smile spread across her face despite herself, and she turned to face him. “They do, don’t they?”

He grinned back—that perfect smile that melted those icy blue eyes into something gentler. 

“Goodnight, Zack.”

“Goodnight, Kiesha. You know I love you, right?”

She offered another soft smile, nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied, so she left and moved to the kitchen to eat and put away the soup he hadn’t touched. 

—

 

Kiesha straightened, tying off the thread and appraising her work. Due to her long hours, skill, and efficiency, she’d been given a special project, something far more elaborate than the basic shifts, work dresses, and other garments her department usually made. If this came out right… well, she’d be earning a much better salary. She’d be given a better working area upstairs, and she might even be able to afford a new pair of shoes. 

She looked down at the ones she wore now before glancing back up at her creation on her table. The difference was startling; her boots were a musty sort of greyish-brown and dirtier than the devil, not to mention they were wearing through in several places. Her blue work dress wasn’t blue anymore, faded and patched in so many places it was hardly the same thing it had been when she’d first got it. Her apron had holes in it and had, over time, turned from white to off-white to limp shade of grey.

The work in front of her, however, was a different story. 

For the past several weeks, she’d designed, drafted, and sewn a real dress, one a proper lady would wear if it was deemed fit. The embroidery and beadwork was unlike anything she’d done before, and the materials she’d worked with would have taken her years to afford. It was, by far, the best thing she’d ever made. 

It had been difficult at first, with the condition of her hand, but over time, it had healed, and she’d regained full dexterity; she got pain like pins and needles and cramps in her fingers sometimes, and there was a large, jagged scar in her palm from the wound, but she’d learned to work with it, and it served as a good reminder to trust Zack. 

Bad things happen when you don’t, she would remind herself. He’s testing you.

Blind obedience was better than painful consequence, right?

Sighing, she took the dress and draped it neatly over her arm. The client, conveniently, had similar measurements to Kiesha’s, so it was easy to judge the fit by putting it on. 

She moved to the washroom, which was the only room in the establishment with a mirror. Besides, it was usually very clean, so there wasn’t a risk of wrecking the gown. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, then carefully set her project on a wooden bench. 

She couldn’t believe the way it glittered like that, even in the dim light of the washroom. She stared at it, mesmerized by the shimmer of the fabric and the sparkling beadwork, then glanced at her own reflection. Dirty, faded, tired. 

The bags under her eyes and their redness had repelled the foreman, at least. 

She sighed, scrubbing her apron over her dirty face, trying to scour away the misery there before she could think too hard about the squalor and poverty she’d been consigned to. Then she untied it, placing it on the bench. She stripped her waistless work dress, too, and swapped it with the wine red gown, which she pulled carefully over her head and managed to get cinched in the back on her own. She’d accidentally left a pin in it, which poked her painfully. She plucked it out and set it on top of her work dress, then appraised her work in the mirror. 

The skirt was a little too long, and the waist was a bit too tight, but it had been designed to be worn over a crinoline and a corset. It fit everywhere else, and it moved stunningly.

To see the full effect, she reached up and pulled off her kerchief, unpinning her hair. It was a bit wrinkled, and she hadn’t washed it for a few days, but after running her fingers through it, it cascaded over her shoulders in waves, messy and textured and dark but somehow pretty. It made her dark circles look less pronounced, her skin smoother, her lips softer. If she’d been wearing makeup, she would have been completely unrecognizable. Beautiful. Powerful. Rich.

She twisted around to see a few more angles of it, making note of a few seams to pick and straighten, a few beads to take off and some to add—small details to fix, really, but overall, she was satisfied. 

As she started to untie the ribbons in the back, the door behind her creaked. 

She’d forgotten to lock it.

Stars.

Kiesha whirled around and nearly slammed straight into the foreman’s chest. He clamped a hand over her mouth, making it even harder to breathe than it already was, and she thrashed.

“Shh,” he snapped, snatching her hand. “Stop it.” He pressed on the scar, where the flesh was still tender. 

She stopped struggling, little black spots peppering her vision. Tears formed in her eyes.

“You need help with those laces?”

She shook her head, hard, but he just pressed harder on the scar. Her knees nearly buckled from the pressure in her head, and she whimpered against his dirty hand.

“That’s what I thought,” he hissed, forcing her to turn and face away from him. “You’re not gonna make a sound, you understand me? No paycheck for the tattlers.”

Kiesha hardly heard what he’d said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way out of this as the foreman started yanking on the ties. She had to brace herself against the wall to keep from stumbling and falling.

She couldn’t hit him. She wasn’t strong enough to do the damage she needed if she wanted to escape. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t just try to run. He’d surely hurt her if she tried. She needed to wound him—but how, she didn’t know. 

The dress hit the floor with a dull thud, and the foreman let out a breath that almost sounded like wonder. 

As if he hadn’t seen a million women in their chemises before.

He ordered her to face him again, and Kiesha didn’t have much of a choice. As she turned, though, something glinted in the shifting light.

The pin. Of course. If she could just get to it…

The foreman reached out and grabbed her waist in his hands, pushing her back toward the wall–or trying. She let her knees crumple under her, and she landed right on the bench. Her hand searched for the pin, and she nearly grabbed it right as his hand made contact with her face in a hard, shocking slap. 

“Get up,” he growled.

“I have weak knees,” she lied, voice soft, hand closing around the pin. “That’s why I take so many breaks…”

He frowned, scowling at her. His dark eyes searched her pale ones, an abyss of hatred and loathing, trying to read her soul. “I said get up.”

She managed to stand–her knees really did feel weak–and he lunged, pushing her into the wall. His face was just breaths away, and his hands were closing around her shift, ready to tear, and suddenly she knew where to hurt him. 

At the same time the neck of her chemise ripped, she speared the pin through one of his terrible black eyes. Her stomach churned as blood spurted from the wound and he jerked away, howling in pain. She scrambled for her work dress, holding it to her chest as she bolted for the door, gown forgotten.

He was still screaming and yowling, doubled over, hands covering his blood-logged eye.

She reached for the knob, but it flung open before she could get out.

A tall, middle-aged man stood in the doorway, wearing a tailcoat and a top hat and an expensive-looking pocket watch. His face was panicked, but it hardened when he saw her. He had grizzly stubble, but otherwise, he looked generally well-kempt and put together. 

She recognized him as the department manager–he’d given her the opportunity to sew that dress–the one at the foreman’s feet.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded, pushing past her to see the foreman clutching the edge of the sink with one hand, the other trembling one trying to find and extract the pin. Blood streamed down his face, and the manager’s face purpled. He whirled on Kiesha.

“I–he—I was in here to make sure that dress would fit her, and—and he came in, and–and, well, I had a pin I forgot to take out of the dress, and he tried to–so I stabbed him with the pin—”

“Liar,” the foreman spat. The sink water was rapidly staining red. “This whore was in here waiting for me! She practically flung herself at me, and what was I supposed to do? Before I knew it, she’d driven a needle into my eye!”

Angry tears streamed down Kiesha’s face, and then she really did fling herself at the foreman, punching and scratching and screaming horrible things at him. His fist struck her brow in retaliation, and she stumbled back, seeing stars. The manager caught her and hauled her away from the foreman, restraining her. She kicked and fought, still screaming at the foreman, who was stumbling and swaying.

The manager grabbed Kiesha’s work dress off the floor, shoved it into her arms, and ordered her to wait in his office. She blinked at him, and slowly, the adrenaline and rage faded into shame, and her heart slowed down. She bowed her head and nodded, then pulled her dress over her head and made her way out of the washroom.

There was a different kind of silence in the main workspace, and several young women stared at Kiesha with wide, curious eyes. 

Her face flushed, hot with embarrassment and shame, and she fled upstairs to the manager’s office, waiting anxiously. There was a nameplate on his desk that read Charles Livingston.

Books lined the walls, save for one of them, on which was hung a large cork board with all kinds of papers hung up. Some were lists or little notes and reminders, but most were drawings and sketches of the establishment. She hadn’t realized he was an architect.

She was there for nearly half an hour, noticing other things about him and his office, before he appeared, spattered with the foreman’s blood, clothes and hair rumpled. His hat was nowhere to be seen, and he looked solemn. Kiesha swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.

He motioned for her to sit at the stool in front of his desk, and he took his place in his chair across from her. He folded his hands on top of his desk and appraised her through spectacles she hadn’t noticed before. 

“Miss Ebersol… you’ve been working here a long time. I think it’s strange you’ve never moved up in the world—you work long shifts, and you’re a very good employee. Skilled. Thorough. But I see why now. How long have you been working as a whore?”

Kiesha blinked, staring at him incredulously. “I’m sorry?”

He didn’t say anything, just examined her through those shiny, expensive glasses. She probably wouldn’t have been able to afford something like them with an entire month’s wages. Bitterness swirled in her chest, bubbling under her ribs.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Livingston. I don’t—see, it’s my brother. My twin brother. He got in an accident a year ago, and he’s been in the hospital ever since. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s really very expensive, and I have eight other siblings, and my parents’ jobs aren’t bringing in hardly any money, see, and I’ve got rent to pay, and at the end of the day I’ve got nothing at all.”

“A completely logical reason for a girl like you to turn to your line of work,” he assured her. “I’m not judging you, Miss Ebersol. How long have you been working in that industry?”

“I haven’t,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it, Mr. Livingston.”

“Then why were you waiting in the washroom for Mr. Slicker, Kiesha?”

“Miss Ebersol will do fine,” she corrected, taking a breath. “I wasn’t waiting for him. I went in there because there’s a mirror, and I needed to make sure the dress was going to fit the client. We have very similar measurements, and I was just about to leave when the foreman–”

“Mr. Slicker.”

“–came inside and threatened me. He hurt me and said if I tried to scream, he’d take my money, and I can’t afford that, Mr. Livingston—I need that money for my family and my brother, and I have to pay my boyfriend, see, he’s letting me stay in an extra room in his apartment, and I don’t have anywhere else to go if I can’t pay him, and—”

“Miss Ebersol. I understand. Get back to your story, please.”

Kiesha took a deep breath, nodding. “Right. Sorry. Well, he took the dress off me, and he… he tore my chemise, but I’d accidentally left a pin in one of the sleeves on the dress, so I… I used it to protect myself. Mr. Livingston, sir, he’s assaulted so many girls working down there… I couldn’t just let him do what he wanted to me and allow him to keep hurting us.”

Charles frowned, then wet his lips. He looked pensive. 

“He’ll never admit to it, but he’s done horrible things. We’ve all seen how it goes, and—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because he threatened me. He said he’d take my wages, and I was… I was afraid I’d be next. He’s had it out for me ever since I got here, Mr. Livingston.” She wrapped her arms around herself, gaze frozen on the rich mahogany of his desk and the gold in his nameplate. 

Such simple things. 

It made her angry. He probably never thought about them. Never thought about that fancy pocket watch on his corduroy suit or his room full of books or those spectacles on his nose. They were just things he had.

She would have done anything for them. 

The simple, everyday amenities that merely existed in his life would have changed her entire world.

“What would the other girls in your department say about this, Miss Ebersol?”

“I… I’m not sure. Some might admit. Others… will be too afraid.”

“Look me in the face, Kiesha.”

“Miss Ebersol.”

“Miss Ebersol,” he amended.

She brought her gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Of course I am. Do you take me for a liar, Mr. Livingston?”

He studied her face, then shook his head, gaze falling to the papers on his desk, which he shuffled aimlessly around. “No. No, I don’t.”

Kiesha nodded. That was good—but she didn’t think her credibility would go far here. It was very unlikely the manager would believe a bottom-of-the-rung employee—a woman—over his foreman. 

“Why don’t you go home for the day,” he suggested. “Get some rest. I’m going to chat with some people and figure out what the best course of action is here.”

She wanted to protest; she needed all the money she could get her hands on. Hera’s last letter had been absolutely desperate. But she was exhausted and scared, and all she wanted was to go home to Zack and let him hold her in his strong, warm arms, though she wasn’t sure if he’d be back from work yet.

Kiesha nodded. “Alright,” she murmured, standing from the stool. She brushed her hands off on her skirt, and Charles stood to walk her out of his office. She gave him a half-hearted smile, which he returned in his own respect, and she went back down the stairs. 

On her way out, she took a spool of thread and a needle from her work desk to fix her chemise when she got home, trying to avoid the curious eyes of the other girls. She kept her head ducked, so her hair formed a sort of curtain around her face, blocking it from view. 

She shoved the materials in her satchel and pushed out the door, noticing for the first time how sore she was. During their skirmish, he’d hit her in more places than she’d originally thought, and she noted a split lip as she passed the window of a bakery.

Her stomach growled painfully, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for several days. She had–like usual–sent her entire paycheck back home to Hera, and recently, Zack had started refusing to let her eat what he paid for—or use anything he paid for, for that matter. She supposed it was fair, since she didn’t share any of her money with him. 

It felt strange to be out on the streets this early, while it was still light outside and the sun was high. 

It was getting cooler outside by the day, but with the sun shining down on the city and the warmth coming from the shops, it felt really nice. She took a deep breath of the crisp air, suddenly glad the city she lived in was known for its cleanliness. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much better than other cities she’d heard of. 

She didn’t have much, but at least she had that.

A vague thought crossed her mind as she passed the post office, and she decided to go see if she’d received anything from Hera in the past couple of days. The postman smiled when he saw her and immediately retrieved a letter from her sister, holding it out to her. “Ma’am.”

Kiesha smiled at him and took it. 

He was a sturdy man, if a bit round, with a kind face and greying hair. He wore spectacles, presumably for reading, and his eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled. 

“Thank you,” Kiesha said, turning the envelope over in her hands and breaking the seal. She moved over to a bench to read it. 

The handwriting was shaky, and it was more of a note than a letter.  

 

Kiesha -

 

I know you’re doing as much as you can, but it’s not enough. You need to find a better job. Half of them are sick with scarlet fever. 

Mom’s dead.

 

- Hera

 

Kiesha stared at the letter in disbelief, gripping the page with both hands. 

She read the words over and over again, trying to find her mistake, trying to stumble upon what she’d read wrong, but the words didn’t change. They stayed right where they were, no matter how hard she tried to make them rearrange themselves.

She raised a hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut to discourage the hot tears forming, trying to force the words out of her mind. She brought her other hand to her head, too, the unfolded letter hanging limply between her fingers.

If she hadn’t read it, it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t true. 

She’d done everything she could. 

Surely…

Surely…

“Miss Ebersol?”

Kiesha looked up to see the postman standing over her, brow furrowed in concern. He eased himself onto the bench next to her, with at least a foot of space between them. That was refreshing, at least.

“Is everything alright?”

“Uh… um….” she blinked a few times, and some of the tears fell loose. She immediately scrubbed them away, standing suddenly. “I need to go home.” She shoved the letter into her bag, not caring how crumpled it got. 

The postman watched as she fled the shop, tearing her hands through her hair and trying to think of somewhere to go. She couldn’t face Zack like this. She spun around, surveying her surroundings, but there wasn’t anywhere she could go. She didn’t know anyone in this city aside from Zack, a few of her coworkers, the postman, and the baker. She only knew the streets she used to get to and from work, since she didn’t have any free time to spend at the park or in a cafe or a tavern. The only place she could go was home. 

She realized vaguely she was already walking in that direction. 

It felt like she was watching everything happen around her from behind some sort of warped veil or screen, and the sounds weren’t quite as vivid, and the smells weren’t hardly as strong. She felt like she was floating above it all, an actor in a show she didn’t know the script of. 

It took her twice as long to get home than usual, but she was still hours ahead of her normal schedule. It was late afternoon, though, so she had hope he would be home. Her knuckles rapped softly against the door, and the knocking felt strangely as hollow as she felt. She clutched her bag a little tighter.

The door swung open, but it wasn’t Zack. 

She had long golden hair with eyes that matched, fair skin, and a dusting of freckles across a button nose. She looked surprised to see Kiesha, and she smelled like… like that too-sweet-fresh-air scent she’d picked up on Zack for the past couple of weeks.

Kiesha stared at her in utter disbelief.

He couldn’t be… he wasn’t really…

Her throat tightened, and her chest constricted, and her stomach heaved, and she thought she was going to be sick. 

She’d trusted him. Because bad things happened when she didn’t. 

She pushed past the girl. Maybe this wasn’t what she thought. The girl’s clothes were too fine, she wore one too many necklaces, she was too well-kempt to be with Zack. 

Zack couldn’t afford things like that. He could hardly afford to feed himself, let alone Kiesha.

Zack was inside, leaning on the kitchen table and eating some leftover soup she’d made the night before. His face turned bone white as soon as he saw her, and he choked on the soup. “K-Kiesha! You’re back early.”

“Looks like you were, too,” Kiesha said softly, just a bite of bitterness behind the words. 

“Honey, it’s not like that. This is Bella. She’s a friend from work.”

“You said you only worked with men.”

“Yeah, until recently. She’s more educated than most girls. She passed the entrance exam.”

Bella flashed an obnoxiously bright smile. Kiesha noticed resentfully that her eyes were slightly off-kilter, and her lips were too big for her face, and though slender, her nose was too long. 

“Well, isn’t that nice,” she said quietly. She didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with this today, and she was tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt. She loved him, of course, but he could be utterly exhausting.

“You trust me, don’t you?” For some reason, it sounded like a threat, and Kiesha was noticing it for the first time.

“O-of course.”

“Good. How was your day?”

She bit the inside lining of her cheek, so hard she tasted blood. 

His face melted into something that almost looked like genuine concern. He led her into her bedroom, which Kiesha thought was strange because usually they had private conversations in his. 

He sat her down on the bed and settled next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, the foreman has been harrassing me for months and finally decided to try his luck, so I stabbed him through the eye with a pin, and then I got in trouble, and I think I’m going to lose my job, and I just got a letter from my sister that my mom died.”

Zack was silent for a second, apparently trying to absorb all that information at once. “The foreman,” he began. “Is that why your face is…”

“Busted up?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“So… so let me get this straight. Y-you stabbed the foreman because he tried to kiss you—”

“He tried to rape me.”

“—whatever. And now you’re losing your job.”

“I… I don’t know that yet,” she stammered timidly, taken aback at how quickly he’d dismissed that news. 

Zack sighed, running his hands through his hair and giving her that look he always did whenever she talked about her job or anything to do with money. 

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

He cut her off, wrapping her in a sudden, tight hug that felt realer than she’d expected it to. “We’ll figure this out once your boss gets back to you, okay?”

“...okay,” she whispered. 

“It’s going to be fine.”

She nodded, trying her very best to believe him. 

 

—

 

Things didn’t end up being fine. She’d gone back to work the next day and received the news that it would be her last. Because of her actions, she was considered a ‘danger to other employees’ and had to be ‘removed from the environment’. She’d collected her last paycheck, which had a bonus attached to keep her afloat until she could find her next job, and left that afternoon for good. 

What her next job would be, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t good at much besides domestic pursuits, like baking and sewing and cooking, but there wasn’t exactly demand for seamstresses or bakers, and she wasn’t on the market to get married. 

Zack had given her a week to find a new job, and the week had passed, and now she stood in her room, pretending to pack the personal belongings she didn’t have. 

She was almost certain Bella would be moving in as soon as the door shut behind her. 

Kiesha covered her face in her hands, trying not to sob. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? 

A knock sounded at the door. “Time’s up, Kiesha.”

She closed her eyes, letting her hands drop to her sides. She grabbed her mostly empty bag off the nightstand and nodded. “Alright,” she murmured, barely a whisper. She glanced at the window. The broken pane had newly been replaced, and she could already smell that sickly sweet perfume filling up the room, making it near impossible to breathe. 

He tried to hug her as she moved over to the door, but she bristled and pushed him gently away. “Don’t.”

“Kiesha–”

“Please don’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he scowled. “Fine.”

She brushed past him, out into the main room, toward the front door, but she paused as she reached for the knob. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“What?”

“Bella.”

He took a deep breath, and she could see in his face that he was steeling himself to lie.

“Tell me the truth.”

“F…. four months.”

Kiesha closed her eyes. Four months. “You’ve been using my rent to pay for that jewelry she was wearing,” she accused.

He didn’t deny it.

“Oh my stars, Zack.” She turned to face him, eyes filling with salt. Her grip on her bag slackened, and her knees felt weak, and she felt her last bit of strength melt away, sliding between her fingers. “Do you understand how messed up that is?”

He was still silent.

“Nothing to say, huh?” She scoffed, and it nearly turned into a sob. She hung her head, pressing the back of her hand to her brow, trying to keep it together.

 “My mom’s dead because of you. My siblings are dying –and for what?? Those gold chains on her neck?! Gild you, Zack! Gild you to the stars and back!”

“You got anything else to say?” He growled, advancing on her.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” she spat back, raising her gaze to look at him and backing against the door. “But I won’t give you anything to use against me. I’ve been everything you could ask for and more, Zack. And this—this—is how you decide to repay me.”

He scowled silently, absolutely seething. 

“You did this to yourself,” she whispered, and then she slipped out the door and closed it softly. She heard the lock click behind her. 

Kiesha nearly crumpled as she stared out at the cobbled streets, feeling weaker than ever. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on the front steps and sob until Bella got here, and he opened the door, and she would beg him with everything in her to take her back, to just give her a little more time, and she would scrounge something up–but she knew now. She knew what he was. 

He’d never loved her. 

She’d been nothing more than a convenience, someone who made dinner for him and loved him and kissed and held him and took care of him, all while paying him to stay in the house she maintained, and she would have married him in time if he’d asked her to. 

It was, in part, her own fault. If she hadn’t been so naive, maybe she would have seen the signs and escaped before it was too late. Before, she could have done something. 

Now, she was penniless, homeless, and aimless. 

She had nowhere to go.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.

 

—

 

Start here

oh and here's a playlist i've made for Kiesha in case you're into that kind of thing

  Reveal hidden contents

 

  Reveal hidden contents

@Edema Rue @Through The Living Glass @Wittles @Cash67 @The cheeseman

 

Why can't everyone just be nice and live happily together :((

Spoiler

That was really sad, but really good job

Spoiler

I would like to see trip Zack on a sidewalk by a busy intersection

 

 

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

6 hours ago, Wittles said:

Why can't everyone just be nice and live happily together :((

  Reveal hidden contents

That was really sad, but really good job

  Hide contents

I would like to see trip Zack on a sidewalk by a busy intersection

 

 

i know :(( people can be so meannnn

Spoiler

THANK YOU

Spoiler

he has it coming don’t worry

 

 

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

here's the next installment! this one's pretty short but i'm already working on five  

this one's pretty heavy so fair warning

Spoiler

FOUR

 

 

 

 

Kiesha shivered. 

Her clothes and hair clung to her as the cold fingers of the rain dragged themselves like shards of glass across her skin. Even the cobblestone building behind her and the ground she huddled on was warmer than the water pouring from the sky.

She tucked her bare feet under her, trying to conserve what little heat was still coming off her body. 

It had been just over two months since Zack had kicked her out. She’d done fine at first, working at the local bakery for several weeks. She’d slept in a small alley on pallets with flour sacks for padding. But after a while, the weather started changing, and she didn’t have anywhere to get clean, and her shoes had worn through. She wasn’t sleeping well. The baker had fired her.

At that point, she was too far gone to go out looking for any kind of decent work. She’d been consigned to begging, and soon even begging didn’t work. 

She stole to survive now–stole food, stole money, stole little things out of peoples’ pockets to try and sell to the pawn shop. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Thunder clapped overhead, rumbling the ground. Kiesha could feel it in her bones. 

She could feel, too, that she was dying. It had been slow and gradual at first, but it was happening faster and faster with each day that passed, and even breathing was getting harder as time went by. 

The way she saw it, she had two options. She could die or beg Zack to help her. 

And Kiesha wasn’t ready to die yet. 

Hauling herself to her feet, she swayed under her own weight, nearly collapsed. The buildings around her helped her keep her balance as she shuffled through the frigid puddles on the ground. 

Hardly able to think, Kiesha blundered her way to her old house, knocking weakly. 

A few minutes passed with no response.

She moved to knock again, but the door swung open. Immediate warmth curled around her from the fire inside, and not even the look on Zack’s face could dissipate it.

The dark-haired, blue-eyed man froze in the doorway, gaze sweeping over her, from the mud smeared on her gaunt face to the tattered state of her clothes to how sunken and bloodshot her eyes were. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bella’s chirpy voice cut him off from inside.

“Who is it?” 

“Stay there, love. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Zack stepped outside, closing the door behind him. The warmth disappeared, and Kiesha shriveled back. “What the hell are you doing here, Kiesha?”

“I just need a little money,” she begged, voice painful and rasping. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “I–” she yelped as he grabbed a fistful of her wet hair at the root, jerking her head up to expose her throat. He dragged her around behind the building and into the narrow alleyway. She felt the cold barrel of a pistol press to her jaw. 

She closed her eyes and sobbed. 

“Are you serious?” 

She reached up, clutching his hand and the gun. “Please. Please listen to me.”

“You have no place here,” he growled. “I have a wife and a kid on the way. I’m not gonna let you ruin it.” She noticed then that there was, in fact, a thin marriage band on his left ring finger.

Fury tinged the edges of her vision with little black spots—or maybe that was the pressure from his hold on her hair and the gun pressing harder against her jaw. 

“That’s rich,” she spat, trying desperately to pry his hand off the pistol. He only pulled harder on her hair, and she gasped, struggling to breathe. “I don’t think I could touch your life, let alone ruin it. Not like you’ve destroyed mine. My mother’s dead because of you, and heaven knows whether my siblings are still alive or not. You’re a filthy, good-for-nothing bastard, Zack! All for some stupid jewelry to give to your stupid wife!” She managed to scream several more colorful things at him before he grabbed her shoulders and threw her to the ground. The landing was jarring, and pain racked her body. At least she could breathe now.

She heard the hammer of the gun click back, and suddenly her fury was gone, replaced by terror.

“Please,” she begged, cowering on her knees. “It’s the least you could do. She doesn’t even have to know I was here. I just need a little money. A little money and… and that jacket I bought you. That brown one. Please, Zack.” She was sobbing, feeling hysterical. 

He scowled down at her, eyes gleaming dangerously, and she could see his wheels turning. She must have gotten through to him somehow—but as he leaned down to meet her eyes, she realized it hadn’t been enough. His face was hard, eyes cold. He pressed the barrel to her temple. “You know how I used to go hunting?”

Kiesha didn’t say anything.

“Kiesha.”

She nodded, breaths coming in convulsive gasps. 

“Sometimes the first shot doesn’t work,” he hissed, “and you gotta put the poor thing out of her misery. Well, Kiesha, the way I see it, my first shot didn’t work.”

“P–please. Don’t do this. I’ll leave. I’ll go. I won’t come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Just--just, please, let me go.”

“Say hi to your mother for me,” he whispered.

 

[Cash67]

Geez this do be dark and well written. I can feel the dissonance between what I as a reader know is a good relationship and how Keisha perceives her relationship (and subsequently its fallout). I’m pissed at literally everyone but Bella. Good job

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

1 hour ago, Kajsa said:

here's the next installment! this one's pretty short but i'm already working on five  

this one's pretty heavy so fair warning

  Hide contents

FOUR

 

 

 

 

Kiesha shivered. 

Her clothes and hair clung to her as the cold fingers of the rain dragged themselves like shards of glass across her skin. Even the cobblestone building behind her and the ground she huddled on was warmer than the water pouring from the sky.

She tucked her bare feet under her, trying to conserve what little heat was still coming off her body. 

It had been just over two months since Zack had kicked her out. She’d done fine at first, working at the local bakery for several weeks. She’d slept in a small alley on pallets with flour sacks for padding. But after a while, the weather started changing, and she didn’t have anywhere to get clean, and her shoes had worn through. She wasn’t sleeping well. The baker had fired her.

At that point, she was too far gone to go out looking for any kind of decent work. She’d been consigned to begging, and soon even begging didn’t work. 

She stole to survive now–stole food, stole money, stole little things out of peoples’ pockets to try and sell to the pawn shop. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Thunder clapped overhead, rumbling the ground. Kiesha could feel it in her bones. 

She could feel, too, that she was dying. It had been slow and gradual at first, but it was happening faster and faster with each day that passed, and even breathing was getting harder as time went by. 

The way she saw it, she had two options. She could die or beg Zack to help her. 

And Kiesha wasn’t ready to die yet. 

Hauling herself to her feet, she swayed under her own weight, nearly collapsed. The buildings around her helped her keep her balance as she shuffled through the frigid puddles on the ground. 

Hardly able to think, Kiesha blundered her way to her old house, knocking weakly. 

A few minutes passed with no response.

She moved to knock again, but the door swung open. Immediate warmth curled around her from the fire inside, and not even the look on Zack’s face could dissipate it.

The dark-haired, blue-eyed man froze in the doorway, gaze sweeping over her, from the mud smeared on her gaunt face to the tattered state of her clothes to how sunken and bloodshot her eyes were. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bella’s chirpy voice cut him off from inside.

“Who is it?” 

“Stay there, love. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Zack stepped outside, closing the door behind him. The warmth disappeared, and Kiesha shriveled back. “What the hell are you doing here, Kiesha?”

“I just need a little money,” she begged, voice painful and rasping. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “I–” she yelped as he grabbed a fistful of her wet hair at the root, jerking her head up to expose her throat. He dragged her around behind the building and into the narrow alleyway. She felt the cold barrel of a pistol press to her jaw. 

She closed her eyes and sobbed. 

“Are you serious?” 

She reached up, clutching his hand and the gun. “Please. Please listen to me.”

“You have no place here,” he growled. “I have a wife and a kid on the way. I’m not gonna let you ruin it.” She noticed then that there was, in fact, a thin marriage band on his left ring finger.

Fury tinged the edges of her vision with little black spots—or maybe that was the pressure from his hold on her hair and the gun pressing harder against her jaw. 

“That’s rich,” she spat, trying desperately to pry his hand off the pistol. He only pulled harder on her hair, and she gasped, struggling to breathe. “I don’t think I could touch your life, let alone ruin it. Not like you’ve destroyed mine. My mother’s dead because of you, and heaven knows whether my siblings are still alive or not. You’re a filthy, good-for-nothing bastard, Zack! All for some stupid jewelry to give to your stupid wife!” She managed to scream several more colorful things at him before he grabbed her shoulders and threw her to the ground. The landing was jarring, and pain racked her body. At least she could breathe now.

She heard the hammer of the gun click back, and suddenly her fury was gone, replaced by terror.

“Please,” she begged, cowering on her knees. “It’s the least you could do. She doesn’t even have to know I was here. I just need a little money. A little money and… and that jacket I bought you. That brown one. Please, Zack.” She was sobbing, feeling hysterical. 

He scowled down at her, eyes gleaming dangerously, and she could see his wheels turning. She must have gotten through to him somehow—but as he leaned down to meet her eyes, she realized it hadn’t been enough. His face was hard, eyes cold. He pressed the barrel to her temple. “You know how I used to go hunting?”

Kiesha didn’t say anything.

“Kiesha.”

She nodded, breaths coming in convulsive gasps. 

“Sometimes the first shot doesn’t work,” he hissed, “and you gotta put the poor thing out of her misery. Well, Kiesha, the way I see it, my first shot didn’t work.”

“P–please. Don’t do this. I’ll leave. I’ll go. I won’t come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Just--just, please, let me go.”

“Say hi to your mother for me,” he whispered.

 

DANG OKAY

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

5 hours ago, Cash67 said:

Geez this do be dark and well written. I can feel the dissonance between what I as a reader know is a good relationship and how Keisha perceives her relationship (and subsequently its fallout). I’m pissed at literally everyone but Bella. Good job

thank you! i'm so glad it's getting across how i want it to lol. i feel like it's messy, but that's probably because i haven't done any editing 

4 hours ago, Through The Living Glass said:

DANG OKAY

nasty cliffhanger huh? heh 

episode five is done! please remember that these aren't at all edited T~T 

Spoiler

FIVE

 

 

 

 

The blast didn’t come. 

She’d expected darkness, expected the world to fade to black, expected agony. But she could still see light through her eyelids, could still feel the rain pouring down on them, could still smell Bella’s perfume on Zack. 

Kiesha cracked her eyes open just enough to see him straightening, shoving the pistol into his waistband, and suddenly he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. She yelped. He draped his other arm over her shoulders, heavy and constricting.

“I’m coming,” Zack called, and it occurred to Kiesha that Bella must have called for her husband. She’d… saved her. “Get some towels, Bee.”

Before Kiesha knew it, she’d been pulled inside and settled at the kitchen table, wrapped in more towels and blankets than she could bear the weight of. Bella was going on and on about Kiesha’s current condition, and how lucky it was that Zack had found her. Kiesha noticed resentfully that Bella wasn’t nearly as ugly as she’d remembered. She was beautiful, actually.

A bowl of hot soup was placed in front of her, along with a slice of bread and a glass of water. 

It was enough to make her cry, and she nearly did. She would have if she didn’t feel so caught up in the shock. It was like being the rope in a tug-of-war, except she was so worn through now neither side could win, and she’d be stuck in the limbo forever, a limbo between an empty, hollow cave or the sea of emotion crashing below it. She wondered how long it would be until she fell.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, heart pounding. She looked up into Bella’s porcelain face, with those too-big rose lips and those shiny golden eyes. She was surprised to see sympathy there. Not pity. 

Sympathy.

She lowered herself into the chair across from Kiesha. She was visibly pregnant, and Kiesha realized she must have been with child for at least a few months, probably several, before Kiesha had been left on the streets. She couldn’t look Bella in the face.

“How are you feeling? You’re still cold as ice.”

Kiesha opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really spoken to somebody. She’d spoken with the postman once or twice, but only to ask for Hera’s letters and remind him that she couldn’t pay to send any back. Maybe with some luck, somebody would come looking for her.

“Are you hungry?”

She glanced at the soup. She was certainly hungry; she could tell from the way her body was starting to shut down, but she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. 

“What’s your name?”

“...Kiesha,” she whispered, reaching for the bread. She let her hand rest on the table near it instead, though. She didn’t want food. She felt sick.

Bella tilted her head, as if she recognized the name but couldn’t place it. “I’ve heard that name before.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“...do you know Zack? You look like you could be related.”

“Uh…… yeah,” she whispered. She didn’t want to tell her the truth; she didn’t know what would happen if she did. “We’re… cousins. Once removed.”

“That’s right,” Bella agreed, as if remembering. “Can I do anything for you?”

Kiesha shook her head.

“I can draw you a warm bath.”

She hesitated. That did sound amazing…

“Okay.” Bella smiled. Her teeth were like pearls. “I’ll do that. You eat.”

Kiesha didn’t protest. She watched Bella go, then turned back to the food waiting for her. Forcing herself to eat it felt like trying to force herself to eat knives, but once the first sip of broth slid down her throat, she couldn’t stop. She was glad nobody was around to watch.

She finished the soup in a matter of moments, tore into the slice of bread, and devoured it, too. As soon as she finished, she felt her stomach churn, and she felt a vague kind of regret settle with the nausea. 

She was determined to keep it down.

The exhaustion hit her next. Now that she was warm and fed, though wet, her mind seemed to move onto the next item of business. She rested her arms on top of the table, and her head on top of her arms, just for until Bella came back.

She closed her eyes. She fell into sleep immediately.

 

—

 

Someone shook Kiesha awake.

She gasped, jerking upright, fists at the ready. Her towels slid to the floor, and she sprang to her feet. But the person in front of her was only Zack’s golden-haired, pregnant wife. 

She blinked a few times, shook her head. Get it together, Kiesha.

“Your bath is ready, Kiesha,” she said, gently taking her arm. She led her to the bathroom and, at Kiesha’s request, helped her undress and get into the tub. She wouldn’t have let anyone else do so much as touch her, but… Bella, she could trust. There was something about her. She might have even liked her.

The water felt like fire, burning her everywhere it touched, but for some reason, the fire felt good. As if it was burning away all the problems outside, burning away the street rat and leaving behind the girl she’d been before. 

She lay back in the small wooden tub, closing her eyes and soaking in the water. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, how long she lay fighting sleep. The warmth felt too good to move.

Kiesha took a deep breath. The air smelled soapy, like perfume and luxury. Something almost salty lingered there, too, and she could almost hear the waves crashing against the cliffs.

As hard as she tried not to let her thoughts stray there, they did. 

Home.

They’d had a cabin with four bedrooms right on the cliffs, surrounded by spruce trees and a garden, fed by the salty spray and fog from the ocean below. The forest wasn’t very large, and there was a path all the way through that led to the fields and the barn. They’d take it every morning before sunrise, she and Kieran, chatting about school or politics or books, or sometimes they walked in silence. He’d milk the cows, and she’d get the eggs, and they’d take it all back so their mother could make breakfast.

Kiesha remembered, too, the wildflowers that surrounded that path—the yellow ones, akin to baby’s breath, but a little too clumsy. Then there were the wild roses, small and patchy but beautiful, and those little bell-shaped ones without a name that came in all different shades of purple, pink, and white. She remembered picking them with Hera, listening to her talk about her biological brother or reminisce about her parents. Kiesha had listened, but until now, she hadn’t understood the pain. Hera, in turn, would listen to Kiesha talk about Zack and how he was moving to the city, and eventually how he had moved to the city, how he was working as a scholar. She’d read the letters he sent back and talk about how badly she wanted to go be with him there.

If only Hera knew it hadn’t been anything like Kiesha had dreamed.

She pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing. 

She could only hope somebody would come find her and take her back home.

A few hours later, after washing her hair several times and making sure she was thoroughly clean, she stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug. She didn’t know where that water went, only that it did. 

She watched it drain, thinking of the rain still pouring outside. 

If not for Bella, she’d be out in that rain, laying dead on the cold cobblestones, her blood washed out to the sewers. 

It felt like a strange thing to be stuck on, but she somehow couldn’t get past how close to death she’d been. As long as Zack was near, it felt like death lingered around every corner, waiting to strike and finish her off for good—to ‘put her out of her misery’.

Shaking off the thoughts, she reached for a towel and dried herself off, wondering at how incredible it felt to just… get dry and be warm. 

Bella had left some clothes for her to dress in—new clothes. Warm, with multiple layers, and soft. She slipped them on with the utmost care, as if they would run away if she handled them too roughly. They felt so soft against her skin–and there was no itchy, patched-up tear in the chemise. The dress was heavy, but comfortingly so, and it looked as if it had only been worn once or twice. 

She hung the towel back up, then made her way out into the main room, where Bella and Zack were engaged in hushed conversation. 

“...should take her to a hospital. She looks awful.”

“Bee, we can’t afford that, and you know it.”

“Why can’t we ever afford the things that matter? You can always afford to buy me things, but when it comes to anyone besides you or me, it’s like we’re broke. We’ve got plenty to get by and some to spare.”

Kiesha’s eyes widened. Saying something like that would only have gotten her slapped, or at the very least, he would have reminded her to trust him.

But Zack only sighed, then leaned forward and kissed Bella. Kissed her.

Kiesha swallowed back horrid thoughts and stepped out into the light. The fire in the hearth crackled, sending waves of heat through the room. Bella smiled and stood. “How are you feeling, Kiesha?”

“Better,” she whispered, shrinking under Zack’s oppressive gaze.

“Good. You should get some sleep. We have a guest room down the hall. It’s a little drafty; one of those panes had to get replaced, but the new seal isn’t airtight.”

“That’s fine,” Kiesha murmured, glancing at Zack. He’d had enough money to patch up that window, but not to patch up the wounds he’d caused her. The ones that had cost her her mother and probably the rest of her family. Kieran, at the very least. 

Bella led her down the hall and into Kiesha’s old room. It looked completely untouched. 

Everything was where she’d left it, and she was probably imagining it, but she could have sworn there were even the same wrinkles in the bedsheets. A thin layer of dust covered it all, and Bella must have noticed, because she flushed and started swiping her hand across the surfaces of all the furniture. “Sorry about the state of the place. We haven’t really had any… visitors.”

“That’s alright,” Kiesha murmured. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “This is… this is more than I could ask for.”

Bella smiled. “Well, I’ll let you go now. Get some rest.”

“I will.” As soon as Bella left, Kiesha crossed over to the mirror and saw herself for the first time in weeks. She looked… terrible–worse than she’d thought she would. Her skin was tight but hung strangely on her frame, probably from starvation and muscle atrophy, and most of her bones were visible. Her eyes were sunken and dull, far more grey than lavender, like they used to be. Her still-damp hair was ratty, the ends stiff, dry, and dead, and the waves weren’t bouncy. They hung limply, as if wilting and dying in the same way the rest of her was. She reached a bony hand up and ran it over her face, feeling the different contours and hollows that hadn’t been there before. 

She’d hoped the bath would have revived her some, and maybe it did. She was glad she hadn’t seen herself before. 

Hopefully with a few days here, she’d get enough rest and food to last her a few more weeks out on the street. Maybe she could even convince Zack to give her some money…

But she could think about that later. 

All she wanted now was to sleep.

She pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed. The familiar smell prompted tears, and she brought the covers to her nose to inhale more of it. It smelled more like home than anything, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She teetered, then crashed into the ocean of emotion below that hollow, scary cave.

Sobs racked her body until, finally, she fell asleep.

 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

24 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

thank you! i'm so glad it's getting across how i want it to lol. i feel like it's messy, but that's probably because i haven't done any editing 

nasty cliffhanger huh? heh 

episode five is done! please remember that these aren't at all edited T~T 

  Hide contents

FIVE

 

 

 

 

The blast didn’t come. 

She’d expected darkness, expected the world to fade to black, expected agony. But she could still see light through her eyelids, could still feel the rain pouring down on them, could still smell Bella’s perfume on Zack. 

Kiesha cracked her eyes open just enough to see him straightening, shoving the pistol into his waistband, and suddenly he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. She yelped. He draped his other arm over her shoulders, heavy and constricting.

“I’m coming,” Zack called, and it occurred to Kiesha that Bella must have called for her husband. She’d… saved her. “Get some towels, Bee.”

Before Kiesha knew it, she’d been pulled inside and settled at the kitchen table, wrapped in more towels and blankets than she could bear the weight of. Bella was going on and on about Kiesha’s current condition, and how lucky it was that Zack had found her. Kiesha noticed resentfully that Bella wasn’t nearly as ugly as she’d remembered. She was beautiful, actually.

A bowl of hot soup was placed in front of her, along with a slice of bread and a glass of water. 

It was enough to make her cry, and she nearly did. She would have if she didn’t feel so caught up in the shock. It was like being the rope in a tug-of-war, except she was so worn through now neither side could win, and she’d be stuck in the limbo forever, a limbo between an empty, hollow cave or the sea of emotion crashing below it. She wondered how long it would be until she fell.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, heart pounding. She looked up into Bella’s porcelain face, with those too-big rose lips and those shiny golden eyes. She was surprised to see sympathy there. Not pity. 

Sympathy.

She lowered herself into the chair across from Kiesha. She was visibly pregnant, and Kiesha realized she must have been with child for at least a few months, probably several, before Kiesha had been left on the streets. She couldn’t look Bella in the face.

“How are you feeling? You’re still cold as ice.”

Kiesha opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really spoken to somebody. She’d spoken with the postman once or twice, but only to ask for Hera’s letters and remind him that she couldn’t pay to send any back. Maybe with some luck, somebody would come looking for her.

“Are you hungry?”

She glanced at the soup. She was certainly hungry; she could tell from the way her body was starting to shut down, but she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. 

“What’s your name?”

“...Kiesha,” she whispered, reaching for the bread. She let her hand rest on the table near it instead, though. She didn’t want food. She felt sick.

Bella tilted her head, as if she recognized the name but couldn’t place it. “I’ve heard that name before.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“...do you know Zack? You look like you could be related.”

“Uh…… yeah,” she whispered. She didn’t want to tell her the truth; she didn’t know what would happen if she did. “We’re… cousins. Once removed.”

“That’s right,” Bella agreed, as if remembering. “Can I do anything for you?”

Kiesha shook her head.

“I can draw you a warm bath.”

She hesitated. That did sound amazing…

“Okay.” Bella smiled. Her teeth were like pearls. “I’ll do that. You eat.”

Kiesha didn’t protest. She watched Bella go, then turned back to the food waiting for her. Forcing herself to eat it felt like trying to force herself to eat knives, but once the first sip of broth slid down her throat, she couldn’t stop. She was glad nobody was around to watch.

She finished the soup in a matter of moments, tore into the slice of bread, and devoured it, too. As soon as she finished, she felt her stomach churn, and she felt a vague kind of regret settle with the nausea. 

She was determined to keep it down.

The exhaustion hit her next. Now that she was warm and fed, though wet, her mind seemed to move onto the next item of business. She rested her arms on top of the table, and her head on top of her arms, just for until Bella came back.

She closed her eyes. She fell into sleep immediately.

 

—

 

Someone shook Kiesha awake.

She gasped, jerking upright, fists at the ready. Her towels slid to the floor, and she sprang to her feet. But the person in front of her was only Zack’s golden-haired, pregnant wife. 

She blinked a few times, shook her head. Get it together, Kiesha.

“Your bath is ready, Kiesha,” she said, gently taking her arm. She led her to the bathroom and, at Kiesha’s request, helped her undress and get into the tub. She wouldn’t have let anyone else do so much as touch her, but… Bella, she could trust. There was something about her. She might have even liked her.

The water felt like fire, burning her everywhere it touched, but for some reason, the fire felt good. As if it was burning away all the problems outside, burning away the street rat and leaving behind the girl she’d been before. 

She lay back in the small wooden tub, closing her eyes and soaking in the water. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, how long she lay fighting sleep. The warmth felt too good to move.

Kiesha took a deep breath. The air smelled soapy, like perfume and luxury. Something almost salty lingered there, too, and she could almost hear the waves crashing against the cliffs.

As hard as she tried not to let her thoughts stray there, they did. 

Home.

They’d had a cabin with four bedrooms right on the cliffs, surrounded by spruce trees and a garden, fed by the salty spray and fog from the ocean below. The forest wasn’t very large, and there was a path all the way through that led to the fields and the barn. They’d take it every morning before sunrise, she and Kieran, chatting about school or politics or books, or sometimes they walked in silence. He’d milk the cows, and she’d get the eggs, and they’d take it all back so their mother could make breakfast.

Kiesha remembered, too, the wildflowers that surrounded that path—the yellow ones, akin to baby’s breath, but a little too clumsy. Then there were the wild roses, small and patchy but beautiful, and those little bell-shaped ones without a name that came in all different shades of purple, pink, and white. She remembered picking them with Hera, listening to her talk about her biological brother or reminisce about her parents. Kiesha had listened, but until now, she hadn’t understood the pain. Hera, in turn, would listen to Kiesha talk about Zack and how he was moving to the city, and eventually how he had moved to the city, how he was working as a scholar. She’d read the letters he sent back and talk about how badly she wanted to go be with him there.

If only Hera knew it hadn’t been anything like Kiesha had dreamed.

She pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing. 

She could only hope somebody would come find her and take her back home.

A few hours later, after washing her hair several times and making sure she was thoroughly clean, she stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug. She didn’t know where that water went, only that it did. 

She watched it drain, thinking of the rain still pouring outside. 

If not for Bella, she’d be out in that rain, laying dead on the cold cobblestones, her blood washed out to the sewers. 

It felt like a strange thing to be stuck on, but she somehow couldn’t get past how close to death she’d been. As long as Zack was near, it felt like death lingered around every corner, waiting to strike and finish her off for good—to ‘put her out of her misery’.

Shaking off the thoughts, she reached for a towel and dried herself off, wondering at how incredible it felt to just… get dry and be warm. 

Bella had left some clothes for her to dress in—new clothes. Warm, with multiple layers, and soft. She slipped them on with the utmost care, as if they would run away if she handled them too roughly. They felt so soft against her skin–and there was no itchy, patched-up tear in the chemise. The dress was heavy, but comfortingly so, and it looked as if it had only been worn once or twice. 

She hung the towel back up, then made her way out into the main room, where Bella and Zack were engaged in hushed conversation. 

“...should take her to a hospital. She looks awful.”

“Bee, we can’t afford that, and you know it.”

“Why can’t we ever afford the things that matter? You can always afford to buy me things, but when it comes to anyone besides you or me, it’s like we’re broke. We’ve got plenty to get by and some to spare.”

Kiesha’s eyes widened. Saying something like that would only have gotten her slapped, or at the very least, he would have reminded her to trust him.

But Zack only sighed, then leaned forward and kissed Bella. Kissed her.

Kiesha swallowed back horrid thoughts and stepped out into the light. The fire in the hearth crackled, sending waves of heat through the room. Bella smiled and stood. “How are you feeling, Kiesha?”

“Better,” she whispered, shrinking under Zack’s oppressive gaze.

“Good. You should get some sleep. We have a guest room down the hall. It’s a little drafty; one of those panes had to get replaced, but the new seal isn’t airtight.”

“That’s fine,” Kiesha murmured, glancing at Zack. He’d had enough money to patch up that window, but not to patch up the wounds he’d caused her. The ones that had cost her her mother and probably the rest of her family. Kieran, at the very least. 

Bella led her down the hall and into Kiesha’s old room. It looked completely untouched. 

Everything was where she’d left it, and she was probably imagining it, but she could have sworn there were even the same wrinkles in the bedsheets. A thin layer of dust covered it all, and Bella must have noticed, because she flushed and started swiping her hand across the surfaces of all the furniture. “Sorry about the state of the place. We haven’t really had any… visitors.”

“That’s alright,” Kiesha murmured. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. “This is… this is more than I could ask for.”

Bella smiled. “Well, I’ll let you go now. Get some rest.”

“I will.” As soon as Bella left, Kiesha crossed over to the mirror and saw herself for the first time in weeks. She looked… terrible–worse than she’d thought she would. Her skin was tight but hung strangely on her frame, probably from starvation and muscle atrophy, and most of her bones were visible. Her eyes were sunken and dull, far more grey than lavender, like they used to be. Her still-damp hair was ratty, the ends stiff, dry, and dead, and the waves weren’t bouncy. They hung limply, as if wilting and dying in the same way the rest of her was. She reached a bony hand up and ran it over her face, feeling the different contours and hollows that hadn’t been there before. 

She’d hoped the bath would have revived her some, and maybe it did. She was glad she hadn’t seen herself before. 

Hopefully with a few days here, she’d get enough rest and food to last her a few more weeks out on the street. Maybe she could even convince Zack to give her some money…

But she could think about that later. 

All she wanted now was to sleep.

She pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed. The familiar smell prompted tears, and she brought the covers to her nose to inhale more of it. It smelled more like home than anything, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She teetered, then crashed into the ocean of emotion below that hollow, scary cave.

Sobs racked her body until, finally, she fell asleep.

 

I really, really want to hug her

Bless Bella's soul

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

14 minutes ago, Through The Living Glass said:

I really, really want to hug her

Bless Bella's soul

bless Bella's soul indeed  

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

section six

Spoiler

SIX

 

 

 

 

“Mama?” 

Kiesha glanced around, peeking out from her hiding place. It had been a long time since Mama had started counting, and she was starting to get scared. What if Mama couldn’t find her? What if she’d gone too far, and she was lost? She didn’t know the way back home. 

She felt herself breathing faster, tears stinging her eyes.

“Mommy?”

Only the wind answered. 

Kiesha started to move between the trees, going back the way she thought she’d come from—but there wasn’t any way to tell for sure. All the trees looked the same. And they were all so tall.

She looked up above her and tried to see the sky. Maybe if she could see the sky, the Creator would tell her where to go. 

Shuffling through the ferns and dirt on the forest floor, she ran her hands along the trees as she moved. The bark felt rough, but not prickly like the needles, and it was a much richer color—brown like the hard bread they always made on Sundays. 

She wandered for a long time, and the longer she did, the more lost she felt. 

She’d thought this would be fun. She stopped walking for long enough to scrub away the tears hindering her vision. 

“Kiesha?”

The voice cut through the trees, deep and warm. She whirled around. 

“Daddy!” She ran as fast as she could, practically flying into her father’s strong arms. 

“Hi, there, gumdrop.” He hoisted her up onto his hip, and she threw her too-short arms around his neck. He smelled like sawdust and cedar. 

“Where’s Mama?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“She had to go take care of something.” He ran his hand over her wild hair. “She asked me to come find you.”

“I thought I was lost,” Kiesha whispered into his shoulder. 

“You’ll never be lost, gumdrop. Even when it feels like you’re all alone, there’s always going to be someone looking out for you. Even though Mama’s not here right now.”

“But she’s coming back, right?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed her forehead. “How about we go home and wait for her?”

“Okay.”

He took her back home, and on the way, he taught her how to find the path no matter where she was in the woods, no matter what time of day it was. 

“Once you find the path, gumdrop,” he told her, “you’ll find your way home.”

 

—

 

Kiesha slept for two days, sometimes drifting in and out. Bella brought her meals and made her eat even when she was sure she couldn’t, and slowly, she started feeling better. She was nowhere near healed by the third day, but she felt less like she could die at any moment and was awake for most of the time. 

Zack took this as a sign that she was well enough to leave, and after some lengthy conversations with Bella, he entered Kiesha’s bedroom. She sat up and held the covers as close as she could, wishing he hadn’t closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I think it’s time for you to go. Bella made lunch. This is from her.”

He handed her a small parcel wrapped in paper, and her eyes widened. It struck her suddenly that he hadn’t given her something since the first couple of months they'd been together.

She untied the twine and pulled off the paper. Inside was a small pouch full of coins—enough coins to get her by for several weeks as the very least. Her eyes got even wider. “...for—this is for me?”

“Yes,” Zack muttered, teeth clenched.

She didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but he didn’t deserve that from her. She settled on a small smile.

He stood. “That better get you by. You come back here again and I won’t hesitate.”

“Understood,” Kiesha murmured, vaguely wondering how on earth Bella ended up with Zack. She waited for him to leave, then considered writing a letter for Bella—a sort of warning. She’d been so good to her…

She managed to find an old notebook she’d forgotten she’d had in one of the nightstand drawers, as well as a crude pencil; the room really had been untouched. She scrawled out a letter on the sheet of paper that read: 

 

Bella,

I know this isn’t my place. But you’ve been so good to me, and I need to return the favor. 

I’m not Zack’s cousin. I’m his ex-girlfriend of three years. He leeched off my money, hurt me, and cheated on me with you for four months before he kicked me out. I was left to fend for myself on the streets. My mother is dead, and the rest of my family is dying.

I don’t hold any of this against you–not anymore. I used to, but I imagine anybody would. You are so kind, and if you really do love Zack, please forgive me for my forwardness. But, Bella, for your sake, if you ever start to doubt you and him, or if he starts to change, please take as much as you can and leave. You can find me in Gallant on the Ebersol farm. We’ll take good care of you and your baby.

Thank you for everything. I’m so sorry if this is offensive or brash. I just know that if somebody had warned me, I would have left a whole lot sooner. That’s all I’m saying.

Thank you so much. You changed my life.

I hope he’s good to you.

Kiesha

 

She read over it a few times, finding it satisfactory enough. Then she folded it up, stood, and pulled on the dress Bella had given her. She pocketed the small pouch of coins, and, after a short deliberation, she added the note to her pocket too, for fear that Zack would see it and demand to know what it was. She’d have hell to pay if he got his hands on it.

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to go back outside. 

But after a quick goodbye, during which Kiesha pressed the note into Bella’s hand and Bella gifted her a coat, she stepped back out into the world.

It was far too vast, far too alone, far too dangerous. There were too many places to hide and not enough places to rest, too little food, too little certainty. Here, in this city, she didn’t have a path back home–and even if she did, she didn’t know the way.

 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

1 hour ago, Kajsa said:

section six

  Hide contents

SIX

 

 

 

 

“Mama?” 

Kiesha glanced around, peeking out from her hiding place. It had been a long time since Mama had started counting, and she was starting to get scared. What if Mama couldn’t find her? What if she’d gone too far, and she was lost? She didn’t know the way back home. 

She felt herself breathing faster, tears stinging her eyes.

“Mommy?”

Only the wind answered. 

Kiesha started to move between the trees, going back the way she thought she’d come from—but there wasn’t any way to tell for sure. All the trees looked the same. And they were all so tall.

She looked up above her and tried to see the sky. Maybe if she could see the sky, the Creator would tell her where to go. 

Shuffling through the ferns and dirt on the forest floor, she ran her hands along the trees as she moved. The bark felt rough, but not prickly like the needles, and it was a much richer color—brown like the hard bread they always made on Sundays. 

She wandered for a long time, and the longer she did, the more lost she felt. 

She’d thought this would be fun. She stopped walking for long enough to scrub away the tears hindering her vision. 

“Kiesha?”

The voice cut through the trees, deep and warm. She whirled around. 

“Daddy!” She ran as fast as she could, practically flying into her father’s strong arms. 

“Hi, there, gumdrop.” He hoisted her up onto his hip, and she threw her too-short arms around his neck. He smelled like sawdust and cedar. 

“Where’s Mama?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“She had to go take care of something.” He ran his hand over her wild hair. “She asked me to come find you.”

“I thought I was lost,” Kiesha whispered into his shoulder. 

“You’ll never be lost, gumdrop. Even when it feels like you’re all alone, there’s always going to be someone looking out for you. Even though Mama’s not here right now.”

“But she’s coming back, right?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed her forehead. “How about we go home and wait for her?”

“Okay.”

He took her back home, and on the way, he taught her how to find the path no matter where she was in the woods, no matter what time of day it was. 

“Once you find the path, gumdrop,” he told her, “you’ll find your way home.”

 

—

 

Kiesha slept for two days, sometimes drifting in and out. Bella brought her meals and made her eat even when she was sure she couldn’t, and slowly, she started feeling better. She was nowhere near healed by the third day, but she felt less like she could die at any moment and was awake for most of the time. 

Zack took this as a sign that she was well enough to leave, and after some lengthy conversations with Bella, he entered Kiesha’s bedroom. She sat up and held the covers as close as she could, wishing he hadn’t closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I think it’s time for you to go. Bella made lunch. This is from her.”

He handed her a small parcel wrapped in paper, and her eyes widened. It struck her suddenly that he hadn’t given her something since the first couple of months they'd been together.

She untied the twine and pulled off the paper. Inside was a small pouch full of coins—enough coins to get her by for several weeks as the very least. Her eyes got even wider. “...for—this is for me?”

“Yes,” Zack muttered, teeth clenched.

She didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but he didn’t deserve that from her. She settled on a small smile.

He stood. “That better get you by. You come back here again and I won’t hesitate.”

“Understood,” Kiesha murmured, vaguely wondering how on earth Bella ended up with Zack. She waited for him to leave, then considered writing a letter for Bella—a sort of warning. She’d been so good to her…

She managed to find an old notebook she’d forgotten she’d had in one of the nightstand drawers, as well as a crude pencil; the room really had been untouched. She scrawled out a letter on the sheet of paper that read: 

 

Bella,

I know this isn’t my place. But you’ve been so good to me, and I need to return the favor. 

I’m not Zack’s cousin. I’m his ex-girlfriend of three years. He leeched off my money, hurt me, and cheated on me with you for four months before he kicked me out. I was left to fend for myself on the streets. My mother is dead, and the rest of my family is dying.

I don’t hold any of this against you–not anymore. I used to, but I imagine anybody would. You are so kind, and if you really do love Zack, please forgive me for my forwardness. But, Bella, for your sake, if you ever start to doubt you and him, or if he starts to change, please take as much as you can and leave. You can find me in Gallant on the Ebersol farm. We’ll take good care of you and your baby.

Thank you for everything. I’m so sorry if this is offensive or brash. I just know that if somebody had warned me, I would have left a whole lot sooner. That’s all I’m saying.

Thank you so much. You changed my life.

I hope he’s good to you.

Kiesha

 

She read over it a few times, finding it satisfactory enough. Then she folded it up, stood, and pulled on the dress Bella had given her. She pocketed the small pouch of coins, and, after a short deliberation, she added the note to her pocket too, for fear that Zack would see it and demand to know what it was. She’d have hell to pay if he got his hands on it.

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to go back outside. 

But after a quick goodbye, during which Kiesha pressed the note into Bella’s hand and Bella gifted her a coat, she stepped back out into the world.

It was far too vast, far too alone, far too dangerous. There were too many places to hide and not enough places to rest, too little food, too little certainty. Here, in this city, she didn’t have a path back home–and even if she did, she didn’t know the way.

 

*squeals*

AS MUCH AS I WOULD FEEL BAD FOR BELLA BECAUSE SHE CLEARLY LOVES ZACK-

TAKE THAT, ZACK!!

*cackling intensifies*

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

20 minutes ago, Through The Living Glass said:

*squeals*

AS MUCH AS I WOULD FEEL BAD FOR BELLA BECAUSE SHE CLEARLY LOVES ZACK-

TAKE THAT, ZACK!!

*cackling intensifies*

hehehehehe glass i actually LIVE for your commentary 

like

it's the best

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

2 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

hehehehehe glass i actually LIVE for your commentary 

like

it's the best

Heheh

Yay

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

part seven is here! i had a busy weekend so that's why i didn't get this up until now  

Spoiler

SEVEN

FOUR YEARS AGO

 

 

 

Zack cupped his hands around his mouth, breathed into them, rubbed them together, shoved them into his pockets. He could see the air turn white every time he let out a breath, huffing in sync with the crunching snow under his boots. 

He paused to look inside his canvas bag, glancing down at the flowers he’d bought from a local shop–they had a greenhouse, so they could sell during the winter too. The prices were higher, but that didn’t matter to him. They still looked intact, which was good.

He’d bought her a lilac bouquet with delicate baby’s breath–which looked a little smushed, but he could pull out the bad stems before he got there–because she’d told him once it was her favorite. The lilac would match her eyes.

The trees cleared to reveal a cabin that looked a lot smaller from the outside than it really was. Smoke came out of the chimney, soft grey plumes against the stark white of the sky. He could hear the ocean crashing off somewhere to the left, against the cliff the cabin had been situated on. Light streamed through the windows and silhouettes moved around inside, which meant she’d be home. He grinned, walking a little faster.

His knuckles rapped against the door, and a moment later, her mother appeared. She had wavy hair, like Kiesha’s, but not the same color. Hers was auburn, but they had the same eyes and the same face. Two little kids clung to either of her legs, and she balanced a third on her hip.

He smiled. “Hi, Ms. Ebersol.”

“Zackary! You must be here for Kiesha.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll get her. Why don’t you step inside?”

Something inside crashed and shattered, followed by howls of laughter. 

“Uh… that’s okay. I’ll wait out here.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course. One second.” 

The door closed, and Zack blew out a nervous breath. This whole thing with Kiesha was still so new. They’d only been dating for a few months, but he really liked her. It was hard not to let it all spill out. What if he was too forward?

The door creaked open, letting chaos flow out into the clearing for just a moment before she stepped out and closed it, and it was quiet again. Kiesha blew out a breath, shivered a little as she made her way over. She was wearing an old but warm-looking coat and a pair of her twin brother’s old boots. Her face was pink from the cold, wavy hair cascading down over her shoulders. She blushed when he looked up and smiled at her, crunching her way over in the snow until she finally stopped a few feet away. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. How are things?”

“Oh, good. Fine. ….Chaotic, but what’s new.”

He laughed, and she flushed again, arms wrapped around herself, as if embarrassed by her family. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “It’s okay. I get it. You have, what, eight siblings?”

“Nine.”

“Right. That’s right. Because of that girl you guys adopted.”

“Hera.”

“Yeah. Her.” 

“Yeah.”

“Mmm.”

They both fell silent, staring at each other, neither sure of what to say. He examined her face, trying to commit every memory to detail, because somehow, he always managed to forget something. He was sure that would change over time. His gaze stuck on her lips for a second before moving back up to her pale eyes and those long eyelashes.

Kiesha spoke first. “How about you? How’s your mom doing?”

“Um… not so good.” He mussed his hair. “Doctors say she has a few weeks left.”

“Stars,” she breathed, moving closer. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. I can’t imagine–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I–I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

He smiled, then started, having completely forgotten about the flowers. “I, uh, brought you something.”

Her face turned redder than it had already been from the cold. “Really?”

“Yeah. O-of course I did.”

A smile spread slowly across her face, a smile that showed her teeth. “O-oh.”

He opened his bag and carefully extracted the bouquet. Kiesha’s eyes widened, and she took it delicately, as if she’d hurt the flowers. 

“Zack… this is… this is so sweet. Thank you.” She looked up at him, grinning. His heart thudded once in his chest. He cleared his throat. 

“Uh… y-yeah. You’re welcome.”

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Tight. It felt… almost sad.

He moved his arms to wrap carefully around her waist, and he swayed her a little, then stopped because he felt silly doing it. She pulled away, sniffling.

“Are…… are you really okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just so sad. Y-you and then Hera… and I don’t know how to help.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Ki,” he whispered, taking her free hand. “It’s okay. I’m gonna be fine. We knew this was coming for a long time.”

“I know.”

“But I appreciate it. You know, that’s one of the things I like about you. You… you’re kind and selfless and… I don’t know. I just think you’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

Kiesha flushed horribly. “You sound like one of those corny romance books.”

It was his turn to blush. “W-well, it’s true.”

“I’m just teasing.” She looked down at her flowers, a faint trace of a smile forming on her lips. “I, uh… I have to go back inside soon. We’re going into town later to pick up the rest of Hera’s things.”

“You all have to go for that?”

“No, it’s just me and Kieran and Mom. You know. All that heavy lifting.” She grinned.

“Riiiiight. Could you guys use help?”

“It’s just a couple things.”

“Okay. Well, if you need me, you know where to go.”

“I do,” she agreed. She seemed to linger, as if caught on half a thought. She started to say something a few times before she finally blurted, “Thanks for coming by. And for the flowers.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I’ll see you around?”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.”

She grinned. “I won’t.” 

“Okay.” He hugged her, and she hugged back.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” Her voice was muffled against his coat, which made him grin. He hesitated, then carefully placed a hand on her head, feeling how soft her hair was. 

Then he sighed. She had so much going on already, with her million siblings and not enough money and the farm. She didn’t need to worry about his problems on top of it all. 

“Zack,” she insisted, voice softer than the snow falling around them.

“Okay. I will.”

“Good.”

He pulled away, gave her shoulders a squeeze, then let his arms drop. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m okay.”

Kiesha nodded, and though there wasn’t any little worry crease between her brows, he could see the concern in her eyes. He’d learned over the years he’d known her that no matter what you said, you couldn’t stop her from worrying about you, couldn’t stop her from trying to make your pain a little less heavy. She hardly ever thought about herself.

“It’s gonna wring you dry one of these days,” he’d told her once. She’d just shrugged, shook her head, told him he’d understand someday.

He never did. 

 

—

 

THREE YEARS LATER

Zack folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, sighing heavily. When would the girl learn? 

He settled in a wooden chair across from the fireplace, running his fingers along the sides of the envelope. The golden light flickered and wavered, casting weary shadows throughout the apartment. 

He’d tried to tell her, tried to warn her to stay away. But now that her brother was dying, and the farm was failing, she was determined. 

Through the letters, he’d been able to pretend. Been able to be what she deserved. But when she got here, there would be no way to hide that he was different.

This city changed people. 

It was too dangerous for somebody like her. 

 

—

 

Well, Zack had been right. The first couple of weeks had been fine; she’d found a job, made  a couple of friends, and she was as bright as ever. But as time went on, he’d watched the light leave her eyes, the life drain from her body. Her soft hands grew callouses, her leanness became thinness and eventually frailness, she was tired all the time, she stopped having time for him. She worked more and more until he hardly saw her at all, until she came home to make dinner and go to sleep. He couldn’t help but feel bitter. If she’d just listened to him, she’d still be happy.

Besides, she could at least try to act like he still mattered to her. Act like he wasn’t just some second priority to her brother. Every time he touched her, she flinched. Pulled away, avoided his gaze. Like she didn’t want him to touch her, didn’t want him to look at her. She was short with him when they spoke. He didn’t understand why, and it was making him angry.

If she was going to push him away, so be it. He’d decided to give her a real reason to. 

He glanced over at the golden-haired girl sleeping peacefully beside him, nestled against his side. She’d have to leave soon, but he didn’t want to wake her. She was too perfect.She cared about him, at least. That was more than Kiesha did.

He sighed through his nose, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her closer against his chest. She shifted in her sleep, tucking her face against his neck.

Her perfume enveloped him, and he took a deep breath of it, closing his eyes, kissing the side of her neck. He’d have to be careful, he realized. He still needed the money Kiesha was paying him, needed that insurance in case she really did find out and leave. He didn’t know what he was going to do if she did, actually.

He felt a sudden pang of guilt in his stomach but squashed it immediately. She was off making money to send back home without a thought for what she and Zack had. Or… used to. For all he knew, maybe she was actually off with some other guy. Maybe the look in her eyes wasn’t weariness, but guilt. Shame. 

He’d just have to keep pulling her strings. Keep her blindly obeying, keep her trusting, keep her isolated. It would have hurt if she hadn’t ruined it all. 

All he felt was emptiness. 

 

—

 

PRESENT

He sat at the window, staring out at her in the street. She was frozen, as if unsure of where to go. No, not unsure. Clueless. Lost, like a motherless puppy.

Bella was near, probably watching him. 

She thought Kiesha was his cousin.

His cousin.

He dragged a hand over his face. This was all such a mess. She shouldn’t have come back. She should have just run back home to her brother where she belonged. 

Bella came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”

He dropped his hands to his lap. “Yeah. I just hope she’ll be alright.”

“We could keep looking after her,” Bella suggested, but he shook his head. 

“No. She needs to learn how to take care of herself. But I told her to come back if she needs to,” he lied. 

“Okay. Well, that’s good.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, then moved away.

That night, he found a folded up sheet of paper on the floor by Bella’s side of the bed. He leaned down to pick it up and place it on the nightstand but froze when he saw a flash of some very familiar handwriting.

Frowning, he snatched the paper and glanced around, then unfolded it and skimmed the letter.

 

Bella,

I know this isn’t my place. But you’ve been so good to me, and I need to return the favor. 

I’m not Zack’s cousin. I’m his ex-girlfriend of three years. He leeched off my money, hurt me, and cheated on me with you for four months before he kicked me out. I was left to fend for myself on the streets. My mother is dead, and the rest of my family is dying.

I don’t hold any of this against you–not anymore. I used to, but I imagine anybody would. You are so kind, and if you really do love Zack, please forgive me for my forwardness. But, Bella, for your sake, if you ever start to doubt you and him, or if he starts to change, please take as much as you can and leave. You can find me in Gallant on the Ebersol farm. We’ll take good care of you and your baby.

Thank you for everything. I’m so sorry if this is offensive or brash. I just know that if somebody had warned me, I would have left a whole lot sooner. That’s all I’m saying.

Thank you so much. You changed my life.

I hope he’s good to you.

Kiesha

 

Zack blinked, then scowled down at the swirly handwriting. That wretch was trying to take his wife and baby away. 

Well, he wouldn’t let her. Hopefully Bella hadn’t read this yet. He pocketed it, then snatched his pistol from the bedside drawer, told his wife he’d forgotten something at work, and stormed out his front door and into the cold air. 

She couldn’t have gotten far.

 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

3 hours ago, Kajsa said:

part seven is here! i had a busy weekend so that's why i didn't get this up until now  

  Hide contents

SEVEN

FOUR YEARS AGO

 

 

 

Zack cupped his hands around his mouth, breathed into them, rubbed them together, shoved them into his pockets. He could see the air turn white every time he let out a breath, huffing in sync with the crunching snow under his boots. 

He paused to look inside his canvas bag, glancing down at the flowers he’d bought from a local shop–they had a greenhouse, so they could sell during the winter too. The prices were higher, but that didn’t matter to him. They still looked intact, which was good.

He’d bought her a lilac bouquet with delicate baby’s breath–which looked a little smushed, but he could pull out the bad stems before he got there–because she’d told him once it was her favorite. The lilac would match her eyes.

The trees cleared to reveal a cabin that looked a lot smaller from the outside than it really was. Smoke came out of the chimney, soft grey plumes against the stark white of the sky. He could hear the ocean crashing off somewhere to the left, against the cliff the cabin had been situated on. Light streamed through the windows and silhouettes moved around inside, which meant she’d be home. He grinned, walking a little faster.

His knuckles rapped against the door, and a moment later, her mother appeared. She had wavy hair, like Kiesha’s, but not the same color. Hers was auburn, but they had the same eyes and the same face. Two little kids clung to either of her legs, and she balanced a third on her hip.

He smiled. “Hi, Ms. Ebersol.”

“Zackary! You must be here for Kiesha.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll get her. Why don’t you step inside?”

Something inside crashed and shattered, followed by howls of laughter. 

“Uh… that’s okay. I’ll wait out here.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course. One second.” 

The door closed, and Zack blew out a nervous breath. This whole thing with Kiesha was still so new. They’d only been dating for a few months, but he really liked her. It was hard not to let it all spill out. What if he was too forward?

The door creaked open, letting chaos flow out into the clearing for just a moment before she stepped out and closed it, and it was quiet again. Kiesha blew out a breath, shivered a little as she made her way over. She was wearing an old but warm-looking coat and a pair of her twin brother’s old boots. Her face was pink from the cold, wavy hair cascading down over her shoulders. She blushed when he looked up and smiled at her, crunching her way over in the snow until she finally stopped a few feet away. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. How are things?”

“Oh, good. Fine. ….Chaotic, but what’s new.”

He laughed, and she flushed again, arms wrapped around herself, as if embarrassed by her family. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “It’s okay. I get it. You have, what, eight siblings?”

“Nine.”

“Right. That’s right. Because of that girl you guys adopted.”

“Hera.”

“Yeah. Her.” 

“Yeah.”

“Mmm.”

They both fell silent, staring at each other, neither sure of what to say. He examined her face, trying to commit every memory to detail, because somehow, he always managed to forget something. He was sure that would change over time. His gaze stuck on her lips for a second before moving back up to her pale eyes and those long eyelashes.

Kiesha spoke first. “How about you? How’s your mom doing?”

“Um… not so good.” He mussed his hair. “Doctors say she has a few weeks left.”

“Stars,” she breathed, moving closer. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful. I can’t imagine–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I–I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

He smiled, then started, having completely forgotten about the flowers. “I, uh, brought you something.”

Her face turned redder than it had already been from the cold. “Really?”

“Yeah. O-of course I did.”

A smile spread slowly across her face, a smile that showed her teeth. “O-oh.”

He opened his bag and carefully extracted the bouquet. Kiesha’s eyes widened, and she took it delicately, as if she’d hurt the flowers. 

“Zack… this is… this is so sweet. Thank you.” She looked up at him, grinning. His heart thudded once in his chest. He cleared his throat. 

“Uh… y-yeah. You’re welcome.”

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Tight. It felt… almost sad.

He moved his arms to wrap carefully around her waist, and he swayed her a little, then stopped because he felt silly doing it. She pulled away, sniffling.

“Are…… are you really okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just so sad. Y-you and then Hera… and I don’t know how to help.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Ki,” he whispered, taking her free hand. “It’s okay. I’m gonna be fine. We knew this was coming for a long time.”

“I know.”

“But I appreciate it. You know, that’s one of the things I like about you. You… you’re kind and selfless and… I don’t know. I just think you’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

Kiesha flushed horribly. “You sound like one of those corny romance books.”

It was his turn to blush. “W-well, it’s true.”

“I’m just teasing.” She looked down at her flowers, a faint trace of a smile forming on her lips. “I, uh… I have to go back inside soon. We’re going into town later to pick up the rest of Hera’s things.”

“You all have to go for that?”

“No, it’s just me and Kieran and Mom. You know. All that heavy lifting.” She grinned.

“Riiiiight. Could you guys use help?”

“It’s just a couple things.”

“Okay. Well, if you need me, you know where to go.”

“I do,” she agreed. She seemed to linger, as if caught on half a thought. She started to say something a few times before she finally blurted, “Thanks for coming by. And for the flowers.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I’ll see you around?”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.”

She grinned. “I won’t.” 

“Okay.” He hugged her, and she hugged back.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” Her voice was muffled against his coat, which made him grin. He hesitated, then carefully placed a hand on her head, feeling how soft her hair was. 

Then he sighed. She had so much going on already, with her million siblings and not enough money and the farm. She didn’t need to worry about his problems on top of it all. 

“Zack,” she insisted, voice softer than the snow falling around them.

“Okay. I will.”

“Good.”

He pulled away, gave her shoulders a squeeze, then let his arms drop. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m okay.”

Kiesha nodded, and though there wasn’t any little worry crease between her brows, he could see the concern in her eyes. He’d learned over the years he’d known her that no matter what you said, you couldn’t stop her from worrying about you, couldn’t stop her from trying to make your pain a little less heavy. She hardly ever thought about herself.

“It’s gonna wring you dry one of these days,” he’d told her once. She’d just shrugged, shook her head, told him he’d understand someday.

He never did. 

 

—

 

THREE YEARS LATER

Zack folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, sighing heavily. When would the girl learn? 

He settled in a wooden chair across from the fireplace, running his fingers along the sides of the envelope. The golden light flickered and wavered, casting weary shadows throughout the apartment. 

He’d tried to tell her, tried to warn her to stay away. But now that her brother was dying, and the farm was failing, she was determined. 

Through the letters, he’d been able to pretend. Been able to be what she deserved. But when she got here, there would be no way to hide that he was different.

This city changed people. 

It was too dangerous for somebody like her. 

 

—

 

Well, Zack had been right. The first couple of weeks had been fine; she’d found a job, made  a couple of friends, and she was as bright as ever. But as time went on, he’d watched the light leave her eyes, the life drain from her body. Her soft hands grew callouses, her leanness became thinness and eventually frailness, she was tired all the time, she stopped having time for him. She worked more and more until he hardly saw her at all, until she came home to make dinner and go to sleep. He couldn’t help but feel bitter. If she’d just listened to him, she’d still be happy.

Besides, she could at least try to act like he still mattered to her. Act like he wasn’t just some second priority to her brother. Every time he touched her, she flinched. Pulled away, avoided his gaze. Like she didn’t want him to touch her, didn’t want him to look at her. She was short with him when they spoke. He didn’t understand why, and it was making him angry.

If she was going to push him away, so be it. He’d decided to give her a real reason to. 

He glanced over at the golden-haired girl sleeping peacefully beside him, nestled against his side. She’d have to leave soon, but he didn’t want to wake her. She was too perfect.She cared about him, at least. That was more than Kiesha did.

He sighed through his nose, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her closer against his chest. She shifted in her sleep, tucking her face against his neck.

Her perfume enveloped him, and he took a deep breath of it, closing his eyes, kissing the side of her neck. He’d have to be careful, he realized. He still needed the money Kiesha was paying him, needed that insurance in case she really did find out and leave. He didn’t know what he was going to do if she did, actually.

He felt a sudden pang of guilt in his stomach but squashed it immediately. She was off making money to send back home without a thought for what she and Zack had. Or… used to. For all he knew, maybe she was actually off with some other guy. Maybe the look in her eyes wasn’t weariness, but guilt. Shame. 

He’d just have to keep pulling her strings. Keep her blindly obeying, keep her trusting, keep her isolated. It would have hurt if she hadn’t ruined it all. 

All he felt was emptiness. 

 

—

 

PRESENT

He sat at the window, staring out at her in the street. She was frozen, as if unsure of where to go. No, not unsure. Clueless. Lost, like a motherless puppy.

Bella was near, probably watching him. 

She thought Kiesha was his cousin.

His cousin.

He dragged a hand over his face. This was all such a mess. She shouldn’t have come back. She should have just run back home to her brother where she belonged. 

Bella came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”

He dropped his hands to his lap. “Yeah. I just hope she’ll be alright.”

“We could keep looking after her,” Bella suggested, but he shook his head. 

“No. She needs to learn how to take care of herself. But I told her to come back if she needs to,” he lied. 

“Okay. Well, that’s good.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, then moved away.

That night, he found a folded up sheet of paper on the floor by Bella’s side of the bed. He leaned down to pick it up and place it on the nightstand but froze when he saw a flash of some very familiar handwriting.

Frowning, he snatched the paper and glanced around, then unfolded it and skimmed the letter.

 

Bella,

I know this isn’t my place. But you’ve been so good to me, and I need to return the favor. 

I’m not Zack’s cousin. I’m his ex-girlfriend of three years. He leeched off my money, hurt me, and cheated on me with you for four months before he kicked me out. I was left to fend for myself on the streets. My mother is dead, and the rest of my family is dying.

I don’t hold any of this against you–not anymore. I used to, but I imagine anybody would. You are so kind, and if you really do love Zack, please forgive me for my forwardness. But, Bella, for your sake, if you ever start to doubt you and him, or if he starts to change, please take as much as you can and leave. You can find me in Gallant on the Ebersol farm. We’ll take good care of you and your baby.

Thank you for everything. I’m so sorry if this is offensive or brash. I just know that if somebody had warned me, I would have left a whole lot sooner. That’s all I’m saying.

Thank you so much. You changed my life.

I hope he’s good to you.

Kiesha

 

Zack blinked, then scowled down at the swirly handwriting. That wretch was trying to take his wife and baby away. 

Well, he wouldn’t let her. Hopefully Bella hadn’t read this yet. He pocketed it, then snatched his pistol from the bedside drawer, told his wife he’d forgotten something at work, and stormed out his front door and into the cold air. 

She couldn’t have gotten far.

 

NUH-UH

NO WAY

ZACK YOU SCUDDING SCUD OF A SCUD I WISH I COULD SWEAR FOR REAL ON HERE

EVIL

AH!

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

1 hour ago, Through The Living Glass said:

NUH-UH

NO WAY

ZACK YOU SCUDDING SCUD OF A SCUD I WISH I COULD SWEAR FOR REAL ON HERE

EVIL

AH!

honestly

he’s such a scudding scudface

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

4 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

honestly

he’s such a scudding scudface

FR

I JUST 

AWUJSVJIHUFVSDJKNM

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

1 minute ago, Through The Living Glass said:

FR

I JUST 

AWUJSVJIHUFVSDJKNM

he legitimately might be the most hated character i’ve ever written  

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

15 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

he legitimately might be the most hated character i’ve ever written  

*screech*

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

part eight

idk if it's cohesive or good at all cuz my writing has been very sporadic and i didn't read over it at the end so

Spoiler

EIGHT

 

 

 

Kiesha pulled the coat tighter around herself, clutching the sack of coins to her chest. She hadn’t bought anything, though she’d passed several stores with all kinds of things she could desperately use–food, a change of clothes, an extra pair of shoes (Bella had given her a pair of boots, but they were a little tight in the toes). 

She hadn’t inquired about work, either. She felt frozen, caught in an imbalance and not sure what exactly it was or which side she was on. She couldn’t bear to spend the coins, but she also couldn’t bear to keep living like she had for the past few months. 

The air curled in white plumes with each breath she released, and the cold stung her nose. She wandered the streets for an inn or a tavern, somewhere warm to go and maybe stay the night, even though she knew she’d probably be sleeping in an alley again. She had to conserve the money, make it last as long as she possibly could. Stars knew she would need it. 

She passed a couple of inns, but she couldn’t bring herself to go inside any of them. All of them were too crowded, and she didn’t want anybody to talk to her. Besides, it was probably too expensive…

Kiesha eventually admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to stay at any inn and scoped out her old alleyway.

It was empty, save for her flour-sack mattress. 

She crossed over to it, but before she could lay down, sudden pain exploded in her abdomen, accompanied by a deafening blast. 

Kiesha screamed and fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. Warm, sticky blood stained her hands red, leaking between her fingers faster than she could think. She slumped to the ground, half on the cobblestones and half on the flour sacks, unable to understand what just happened. It had all been so sudden, and now she was going to die.

She tried to move, tried to see who had shot her, but she didn’t have to. Somebody’s hands turned her over onto her back, and through the pain, she could make out a face. Dark hair, blue eyes—

Horror pooled in her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She screamed, thrashing under his hands, one of which closed around her throat. The other, holding the gun, sloppily covered her mouth. She coughed as her air slowly drained out of her lungs and she stopped getting enough.

Both of her hands closed around his, trying to pry his fingers away, but her hands were too slick, and he was too strong. Black spots dotted her vision, and she saw his mouth move, but her ears were ringing too loudly to make out what he was yelling. 

He pressed the barrel to her temple, and a second gunshot sounded. 

Zack froze, the pressure released, and everything went black.

 

—

 

Zack’s body collapsed on top of Kiesha’s, eyes wide, face frozen in shock. It was an unfortunate last expression, really. 

The man dropped the gun, then ran over and hauled the body off of Kiesha, scrambling to find a pulse. “She’s alive,” he breathed after a moment. “She’s alive. Barely. Go find a doctor!” He brushed back Kiesha’s dark hair, keeping the other hand steady on her pulse. 

His companion nodded, then rushed off to find help. 

“Oh, gumdrop,” he breathed, kissing her forehead. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t you go anywhere. You stay here. Stay with me.” 

He murmured little things until his daughter came back with a man carrying a leather bag, who dropped to his knees next to Kiesha and took some tools out of his bag. 

Her pulse faded.

 

—

 

Kiesha gasped, inhaling a breath of crisp air and jerking awake.

She was… she was alive?

She glanced around, sitting up. 

Everything was black, but it wasn’t dark. She could see her hands—and the blood on them—as clear as day. Everything beyond her, though, looked dark and eternal, an expanse of black that had no end. Or maybe what touched her was all there was. Maybe there was nothing beyond it. She couldn’t tell. 

The air felt cold and heavy, like a blanket of snow, pressing in on all sides but not constraining. It wasn’t quite solid, but it was decisively tangible. 

She stood, and her view shifted slightly. Colors swirled within the black, and faint sounds came through. Voices, but nothing discernable. It all fell through her fingers before she could grab onto anything. Even her thoughts felt slippery.

She closed her eyes, and the air warmed. Lifted. Light shone in through her eyelids, and her thoughts seemed to become more solid.

“Kiesha?”

She whirled around, opening her eyes, and—

Her breath caught.

A woman stood before her, with long auburn hair and lilac eyes. She wore a long white dress and looked young. Peaceful. Regal. A huge set of white wings protruded from her back, which seemed to be the source of the warm white light that had first caught her attention.

“.....Mom?”

Vesta opened her arms, and Kiesha leapt into them, bursting into tears. She cried so hard she couldn’t breathe. She still smelled the same, like the ocean spray and fresh bread. 

“My girl,” her mother whispered, running her hand through her daughter’s dark brown hair. 

Kiesha’s knees buckled, and Vesta eased her down to kneel, then eventually settled her daughter on her lap, holding her close. Kiesha’s blood stained the white dress she wore, but she didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered. 

Vesta asked no questions. She already knew what that good-for-nothing bastard had done to her daughter. She’d watched everything, and now she only hoped her husband could stop this before she was too far gone. 

“Am I dead?” Kiesha whispered after a long, long time. Her sobs had faded to sniffles and hiccups.

“No,” Vesta murmured, rocking her daughter back and forth. “No, love. You’re not dead. Not quite.”

“Zack tried to kill me,” she whispered, voice blanketed with disbelief.

“I know.”

“He tried to kill me. I loved him and took care of him and—and he tried to kill me.”

Vesta opened her mouth, but Kiesha cut her off.

“Mom. Mom, I did everything I could. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you’re here, and—” she started sobbing again, her words unintelligible. 

“It’s okay, Kiesha.” The voice was small—it belonged to a little girl. Kiesha bolted upright, blood draining from her face when she met the eyes of her little redheaded sister. She’d knelt beside Kiesha and their mother, and she had a matching pair of those white wings, though smaller. She put a chubby hand on Kiesha’s cheek, and the latter stared at her, then looked desperately to her mother. 

“No,” she breathed, and Vesta just smiled sadly. Kiesha turned her attention back to her little sister, then scooped her into her arms. “Celia……”

This had to be wrong. This was all wrong! It was just a bad dream, and she just had to wake up—

“Don’t cry,” Celia whispered, putting both her tiny hands on either side of Kiesha’s face. “Shaeli and Deena are here too.” 

That did it. 

It felt like being shot all over again. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the pain. Her chest felt constricted, and there wasn’t enough air. 

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep it together, but the tears spilled over anyway, and the knife in her chest twisted. Three. She’d killed three of her siblings, and her mother. Vesta wrapped her arms around her daughters, then enveloped them in her wings. 

The light was blinding for a moment, the warmth radiating all the way through to her bones. Then it all faded, and Kiesha was alone in the darkness.

 

[Through The Living Glass She/They]

13 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

part eight

idk if it's cohesive or good at all cuz my writing has been very sporadic and i didn't read over it at the end so

  Hide contents

EIGHT

 

 

 

Kiesha pulled the coat tighter around herself, clutching the sack of coins to her chest. She hadn’t bought anything, though she’d passed several stores with all kinds of things she could desperately use–food, a change of clothes, an extra pair of shoes (Bella had given her a pair of boots, but they were a little tight in the toes). 

She hadn’t inquired about work, either. She felt frozen, caught in an imbalance and not sure what exactly it was or which side she was on. She couldn’t bear to spend the coins, but she also couldn’t bear to keep living like she had for the past few months. 

The air curled in white plumes with each breath she released, and the cold stung her nose. She wandered the streets for an inn or a tavern, somewhere warm to go and maybe stay the night, even though she knew she’d probably be sleeping in an alley again. She had to conserve the money, make it last as long as she possibly could. Stars knew she would need it. 

She passed a couple of inns, but she couldn’t bring herself to go inside any of them. All of them were too crowded, and she didn’t want anybody to talk to her. Besides, it was probably too expensive…

Kiesha eventually admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to stay at any inn and scoped out her old alleyway.

It was empty, save for her flour-sack mattress. 

She crossed over to it, but before she could lay down, sudden pain exploded in her abdomen, accompanied by a deafening blast. 

Kiesha screamed and fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. Warm, sticky blood stained her hands red, leaking between her fingers faster than she could think. She slumped to the ground, half on the cobblestones and half on the flour sacks, unable to understand what just happened. It had all been so sudden, and now she was going to die.

She tried to move, tried to see who had shot her, but she didn’t have to. Somebody’s hands turned her over onto her back, and through the pain, she could make out a face. Dark hair, blue eyes—

Horror pooled in her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She screamed, thrashing under his hands, one of which closed around her throat. The other, holding the gun, sloppily covered her mouth. She coughed as her air slowly drained out of her lungs and she stopped getting enough.

Both of her hands closed around his, trying to pry his fingers away, but her hands were too slick, and he was too strong. Black spots dotted her vision, and she saw his mouth move, but her ears were ringing too loudly to make out what he was yelling. 

He pressed the barrel to her temple, and a second gunshot sounded. 

Zack froze, the pressure released, and everything went black.

 

—

 

Zack’s body collapsed on top of Kiesha’s, eyes wide, face frozen in shock. It was an unfortunate last expression, really. 

The man dropped the gun, then ran over and hauled the body off of Kiesha, scrambling to find a pulse. “She’s alive,” he breathed after a moment. “She’s alive. Barely. Go find a doctor!” He brushed back Kiesha’s dark hair, keeping the other hand steady on her pulse. 

His companion nodded, then rushed off to find help. 

“Oh, gumdrop,” he breathed, kissing her forehead. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t you go anywhere. You stay here. Stay with me.” 

He murmured little things until his daughter came back with a man carrying a leather bag, who dropped to his knees next to Kiesha and took some tools out of his bag. 

Her pulse faded.

 

—

 

Kiesha gasped, inhaling a breath of crisp air and jerking awake.

She was… she was alive?

She glanced around, sitting up. 

Everything was black, but it wasn’t dark. She could see her hands—and the blood on them—as clear as day. Everything beyond her, though, looked dark and eternal, an expanse of black that had no end. Or maybe what touched her was all there was. Maybe there was nothing beyond it. She couldn’t tell. 

The air felt cold and heavy, like a blanket of snow, pressing in on all sides but not constraining. It wasn’t quite solid, but it was decisively tangible. 

She stood, and her view shifted slightly. Colors swirled within the black, and faint sounds came through. Voices, but nothing discernable. It all fell through her fingers before she could grab onto anything. Even her thoughts felt slippery.

She closed her eyes, and the air warmed. Lifted. Light shone in through her eyelids, and her thoughts seemed to become more solid.

“Kiesha?”

She whirled around, opening her eyes, and—

Her breath caught.

A woman stood before her, with long auburn hair and lilac eyes. She wore a long white dress and looked young. Peaceful. Regal. A huge set of white wings protruded from her back, which seemed to be the source of the warm white light that had first caught her attention.

“.....Mom?”

Vesta opened her arms, and Kiesha leapt into them, bursting into tears. She cried so hard she couldn’t breathe. She still smelled the same, like the ocean spray and fresh bread. 

“My girl,” her mother whispered, running her hand through her daughter’s dark brown hair. 

Kiesha’s knees buckled, and Vesta eased her down to kneel, then eventually settled her daughter on her lap, holding her close. Kiesha’s blood stained the white dress she wore, but she didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered. 

Vesta asked no questions. She already knew what that good-for-nothing bastard had done to her daughter. She’d watched everything, and now she only hoped her husband could stop this before she was too far gone. 

“Am I dead?” Kiesha whispered after a long, long time. Her sobs had faded to sniffles and hiccups.

“No,” Vesta murmured, rocking her daughter back and forth. “No, love. You’re not dead. Not quite.”

“Zack tried to kill me,” she whispered, voice blanketed with disbelief.

“I know.”

“He tried to kill me. I loved him and took care of him and—and he tried to kill me.”

Vesta opened her mouth, but Kiesha cut her off.

“Mom. Mom, I did everything I could. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you’re here, and—” she started sobbing again, her words unintelligible. 

“It’s okay, Kiesha.” The voice was small—it belonged to a little girl. Kiesha bolted upright, blood draining from her face when she met the eyes of her little redheaded sister. She’d knelt beside Kiesha and their mother, and she had a matching pair of those white wings, though smaller. She put a chubby hand on Kiesha’s cheek, and the latter stared at her, then looked desperately to her mother. 

“No,” she breathed, and Vesta just smiled sadly. Kiesha turned her attention back to her little sister, then scooped her into her arms. “Celia……”

This had to be wrong. This was all wrong! It was just a bad dream, and she just had to wake up—

“Don’t cry,” Celia whispered, putting both her tiny hands on either side of Kiesha’s face. “Shaeli and Deena are here too.” 

That did it. 

It felt like being shot all over again. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the pain. Her chest felt constricted, and there wasn’t enough air. 

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep it together, but the tears spilled over anyway, and the knife in her chest twisted. Three. She’d killed three of her siblings, and her mother. Vesta wrapped her arms around her daughters, then enveloped them in her wings. 

The light was blinding for a moment, the warmth radiating all the way through to her bones. Then it all faded, and Kiesha was alone in the darkness.

 

-__-

*deep breath*

Spoiler

*cries*

Spoiler

AT LEAST ZACK IS DEAD

Spoiler

BUT HER FAMILY ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

Spoiler

THAT'S SO HEARTBREAKING

Spoiler

My eyes are literally misty, my dude