Blood Sacrifice

Chapter 1

~5 Weeks Prior~

"Morning, Clara," a soft voice whispered into my ear.

Very slowly, I cracked open an eye and the morning sun flooded my vision. I groaned and held up my arm to shield my face as I sat up. The window across the room from the bunk bed was only scarcely veiled by a broken blind system. On most days, it served as my alarm clock.

I blinked, and when the sleep was finally cleared away, I noticed May was kneeling beside the bed, her dark blue eyes observed me carefully as I moved. I guessed that the sun had already done its job of waking her up. I knew that she must've been up for at least ten minutes by the way her eyes danced with enthusiasm for the day.

In the back of my mind, I wondered how she did it.

"Good morning, sissy," she said carrying each note of her enthusiasm in her voice.

I smiled at her. "Good morning, May. Have you checked what's for breakfast today?"

"Oatmeal," she said tipping her head apologetically to the side. She knew I didn't care for it.

"Again?" I asked passively.

She nodded as I stood up off of the bed. I could feel all of the joints in my back and arms pop as the stiffness slowly left me from head to toe.  I carefully rotated my head, feeling the uneasiness in my neck dissolve away.

"You can have my toast today if you want," she offered standing to her feet as well.

In my mind, I pictured the slop they called oatmeal and the cardboard they called toast. It didn't matter how hungry I was, I would never be hungry enough for what they served us here.

I shook my head. "No way, you need to eat every bite."

That wasn't a lie either. I looked at my sister for a moment as she stood to her feet. She was awfully skinny for her age. Her legs looked unsteady as she walked. The malnutrition shown in more places than just her weight. Her skin seemed pale, and her long hair was brittle. There were a lot of times that I worried about her health, but I couldn't force her to eat.

She worried about me as much as I worried about her. Both of us were stubborn about sharing our food which wasn't much to begin with. The orphanage was very selfish when it came to feeding the children it was supposed to care for.

It seemed like the older you got, the less food you actually received. Asking for more was a foolish way to end up getting punished. All of the kids here had learned that lesson at some point in time.

As I stood unsteadily to my feet, I knew that I looked a lot like her. My bones were protruding through my skin in a similar fashion. It didn't matter much to me. The orphanage gave us just enough food to keep us alive, no more and no less. Years had passed since the last time I had had a real meal.

I didn't miss what I couldn't remember.

May turned to leave the room when I set my hand to her arm. She looked at me confused.

"Something wrong?" she asked, the eagerness replaced with concern.  

"What are you forgetting?" I asked her as I took my hand off of her shoulder.

"To brush my hair?" she guessed tilting her head to the side.

"And teeth," I added as I turned my attention to the ratty old mattress I had been sleeping on not ten minutes before.

I pulled our small black comb out from underneath my mattress. I didn't know why I felt a need to hide it. It was the only thing that I owned that came from the time before the orphanage. Part of me was fearful that the careworkers would find it and take it away as a new kind of punishment.