The Strings That Attach

Chapter One

Looking down at the pathetic spot of land that we call my mother's grave, I can't help but let one tear slip out that disappears with the rest of the rain running down my face. It doesn't rain often in Autumn, but when it does, it rains hard. I was just here last week to celebrate her birthday. The flowers on top of this unmarked grave are the only thing that would tell you there's something here. I twirl my red string around my finger absent-mindedly. Pessimistic that it is a stupid system.

When the rich die, they get massive funerals and huge graves that have recognition of who lived and died in that life. The poor get to dig a hole in a specific plot and must remember where their loved one has been laid to rest. It's not fair.

Mabon used to be my favorite holiday. The homemade apple dishes used to be my favorite part. Somehow, my mom made the best dessert with the small amount of material we had just for me. Sitting together as a family and planning what to do for the winter would make my day. My mom's birthday was one week before Mabon, making it my favorite.

I walk back in this downpour, my braids and clothes becoming soaked. Barely anyone is out in this rain. Walking, I plaster on a smile and pretend everything is okay for the celebration. Not only is it Mabon, but it is also my baby sister's third birthday. It is not fair to her that we mope around this day over the death of my mother. It's not my sister's fault my mom is dead, but I can't help but blame her. I wish she would've been the one to die and not my mom.

As I pass a shop window, I look at the glass and shake my head at myself for even thinking that. My dark skin is even darker in the rain, making me chuckle as it's hard to do that. My purple braids go down to my hips and are dripping water from how long I have been out here. My purple eyes stare into my soul, recessed in from lack of sleep and trying to care for all the kids. I'm exhausted, but I don't have time to be. My curves are a signature look from my mom, as most fae are skinny and tall. I love my curves; they make me stand out.

Someone bumps into me, and I hiss out in pain and surprise. I roll my eyes at people who don't know how to watch where they are going. We make quick eye contact, and then each looks away quickly. It's not safe for a young woman to be out in the rain alone in this neighborhood, so I don't wait for him to turn around and threaten me.

I stick my hands in my pockets and feel the two small coins I brought. Just two coppers were all I could take from our monthly budget without causing too much damage. I walk into the shop and look for something I can bring back to my sister for her birthday. None of us children get much, so a small present for each birthday is the least I can do.

As I continued looking around, I noticed I don't have enough for any of the items here. I hiss out a quiet curse and look over the worker. Of course, I'm the only person in the store, so the owner is staring directly at me.

I'm about to leave and give up when the same man enters the shop, and I freeze. The man is tall and pale, with dark eyes that could be black. His short, dark hair makes him even more startling. What is he doing? Is he following me? My breathing picks up slightly, but it takes attention from me as the owner looks at him. This may be the perfect timing, so I have to take it. I quickly grab a small doll from the rack, which couldn't be more than five coppers, and run out the door. The owner yells after me, but it is too late as I start to bolt down the street.

I run without looking back until I am safely in my house. Great, I'm probably banned from that store now. That's a shame they had the cheapest food in the city. As I entered the small house, it was exactly how I left it.

My father, Baron Kleora, is a pale man who used to be handsome and strong. He was sent to fight in the war when I was just three and came home never to be the same. Now, he has no foot or eye and does nothing but sit and bitch about anything and everything. He's an overweight, angry man who makes everyone in the house walk on eggshells.

"God dammit, Melia, where the fuck have you been. The children are hungry, and it's your job to deal with them." My dad growls out to me.

"Good to see you too, Dad," I say, trying not to give him the reaction he wants from me.

Instead, I walk into the only bedroom we have for the house while he shouts out to me. My dad, me, and my three younger siblings are in the home. It's crowded, but we make it work. Ever since Dad got injured, he has done nothing, and it was always up to my mom and me to deal with the house. And now that she's gone, it's all up to me. The four kids share two beds and two blanket beds on the floor. The three always switch, but I always lay on the floor for them. My dad sleeps out in the living area as it is too hard for him to move from one place to another.

As I enter, the other two instantly hug me, squealing. I quickly silence them to avoid Dad, but we have a small hug celebration instead. "I missed you guys, too," I smile honestly. I can't see my life without these three, which adds more quilt to my earlier comments.

My second oldest is my sister, Nylisa, who is 16. Although she didn't join in the hug, she smiled, glad to see me. Living with two sisters and a little brother can be challenging, but we all make it work. Nylisa has a tall, thin, beautiful, dark-skinned face that makes even me jealous. She has gorgeous brown braids down to her chest and often puts them in a bun. Once I set the other two down, I hug her to annoy her.

"Augh, Melia, you're soaked!" She squealed and tried to push me away.

Next, I go over to my little brother, who is about to turn 11 in one month. Elidy is a short, slim fae with stunning brown skin and cute, curly hair. I walk over and ruffle it as any older sister should do. He gives me an adorable toothy smile with three missing as he ages. Two of them have already started to grow back.

Finally, I go over to my baby sister, who just turned three. She recently grew a short, curly afro and constantly talked about wanting to grow hers like Nylisa. She and I are best friends since I'm always at work. Nylisa works on weekends so that I can take care of the house and the kids for a while.

"Let me get in some dry clothes and wash up. Wait here, and I'll start making a super special birthday dinner." I say as I pick up my baby sister. She giggles and says, "Sissy, it's my birthday!" as I spin her.

I set her down while we all laughed as I entered the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes and put them in the tub to wash. I then washed my body and face with a small, unscented bar of soap and sighed. After taking a minute to compose myself, I got dressed and greeted them again.

"Alsira, are you ready to go make dinner with me?" I ask, and she smiles so wide. Usually, I wouldn't let them help, but she loves to play with some of the utensils.

"Yes, sissy!" she exclaims, so I take her hand and walk her into the kitchen. Dad is currently reading a book he has probably read a hundred times by now. He looks up at me expectingly.

"I'm just going to make dinner. It will be thirty minutes." He doesn't say anything and goes back to his book.

I sigh and look down at Alsira. I pull her into the kitchen to make some simple stew for the family.