Abject [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1

A strangled cough fell over my chest, gripping the inside of my throat like fluttery cobwebs. My lungs painfully squeezed as I rolled onto my side, struggling for breath. Through a hazy vision I tried to reach out for the cup of water, my hand making it fall over instead, soaking my fingers.

There was grumbling beside me. "Can you not allow me to have one goodnights rest?" My husband exclaimed, looking over at my form on the verge of collapsing. He then saw the mess on the floor and sighed, getting up.

"Damn woman."

Another cough stabbed through my body like knives this time, the desperate need for water pricking my skin.

"Here."

A cup of fresh water was placed down in front of me and I greedily took it, pouring the contents down my aching throat, the droplets trickling along the side of my mouth as I spilled some again.

"Thank you." I breathed, wiping my chin and took a deep breath, relishing in the soothing feeling the cold liquid brought. However, the man beside me was only aggravated.

"If you're going to keep waking me up in the middle of the night like this, kicking you out might be a good idea." He ranted,  pulling the covers over him as he laid back down, "I'm tempted to do so."

I stared at him. "I'm sorry."

"Just shut up and go to sleep."

My eyes lingered on his angered form before drifting off to the window that had been broken, planks hanging from it where my husband had tried to fix it with little to no effort. A cool breeze invaded the small space and swept over me in a way that I had wished I did sleep outside, under the calming night sky.

I cleared my throat along with the silly thought and laid my head down, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead. Flies were quietly buzzing around, enjoying the summer heat and smells that came along with the laziness of cleaning. They did not bother me much. Nor did the slight putrid smell coming from one side of the room where alcohol bottles, long awaited laundry and nearly rotting food were littered across the floor.

The ceiling had to be fixed too.

I thought with a tired blink, my eyelids turning heavy. I made a mental note to wash some laundry after I had taken my medication tomorrow, and it wasn't long before my eyelids fluttered shut.

The next morning I was a little grateful to find that the beer bottles had been picked up along with the smelly food. The carpet wasn't entirely clean, the laundry was still there as well as the smell, but I offered the man a smile of appreciation on my way out.

The sun felt nice. The covers on my skin felt heavy and hot, but I was happy to be outside.

I've been a little fragile eversince I breathed my first breathe into this world. My bed was my forever nesting place. The doctor might have said the sun didn't affect me as much as colder weather, but my parents were always worried. And I, I simply enjoyed the quiet mornings until the sun set and the moon came out to visit through my window.

And now that I had married, I was thrilled to know I could step outside for a walk whenever I wanted. Well, not exactly all the time.

Once I got my medication I made a trip to buy some food as well. Something that won't take long to make yet would still do the job of delightfully filling our bellies.

It was still morning which meant I wasn't out long, but my husband should be out on his usual day-to-day activities by now. So, I will rest a bit first before doing some cleaning.

My attention was caught by something happening in the corner of my eye. I stopped and looked to see a boy, dirty robes that were ripped, and hands desperately reaching out for help it appeared.

"S-She's giving b-birth in there..." He rasped, but no one even seemed to notice him.

My brows drew together. Somebody's in labour. And it was common for others not to care because on the poorer, low side of the Entertainment District there was not much. Not much anyone could do. Whether your starving. Have no home. Ill. Or delivering life into this contaminated part of the world.

I watched the boy retreat back inside and found my own feet moving towards the house. I hesitated, knocked once and stepped back.

The door slid open and I was immediately engulfed by a horrible smell that was far worse than my own home, the stench entering my nose and twisting my insides in an uncomfortable way I ignored and looked down at the boy who stared up at me.

"Hi."

The sound of a baby's cry cut through the air, bringing my attention to the inside for my eyes to land on a body. Motionless on the floor. The boy had gone over to where the cries were coming from and I followed him to a tiny human squirming inbetween sheets that looked like they haven't been properly washed in months. I ignored the blood stains and the deadly still body a few feet away from me and removed my robe.

"May I?"

The boy's eyes narrowed, focusing on me as if only now realizing my presence. "I won't hurt her." I reassured the boy gently as he protectively held the wailing newborn up to his chest. It took him a second before he laid down the baby on the robe I spread out. I smiled at him and began tucking her in.

"What's her name?" I asked after awhile.

He stared down at his sister before whispering, barely audible, "Ume."

Ume? I liked it.

"That's a beautiful name." I said, glancing at him. "And yours?"

The boy was silent, as if contemplating, but eventually answered after a long pause. "Gyutaro."

I hummed; placing the now calm and wrapped child in the boy's arms, I watched as he's eyes ran over her features in quiet fascination.

"Well, Gyutaro, I'm Arisa and that's a healthy sister you got." I said, but the boy merely glanced up at me through his hair before focusing his attention on his baby sister again. And I took the opportunity to further observe him. Knotted, unkempt hair. Impossibly thin. Bruises that covered his legs and arms until I reached his face. Sunken in eyes. Hollow cheeks. And more bruises. However, what caught my attention was the dark splotches that bloomed across his cheeks, over his nose, and my eyes stared longer than should have.

Not wanting the boy to feel uncomfortable under my gaze, my eyes wandered over to the dead body. Their head was turned the opposite direction, their hair twisted and covering their face. I inched slightly closer and slowly reached out to feel for a pulse, a hint of lingering heat—anything as I wondered if the person would have still been alive if I had come sooner. If anyone had come to help.

"She's dead."

I was brought back from my thoughts, my hand snapping away from the cold flesh of the dead and I turned to the boy. I was expecting a grieving child, someone who had just been left behind with a young sister and the weight of what comes next. But like a hopeless shell of a human, the boy stared back at me with a vacant look in his eyes.

My lips pressed together in a firm line and I nodded, looking back at their mother.

"Indeed she is."