The Death of Hope

Chapter One

A sigh escaped Victoria's lips as she walked down the road, her aching feet protesting the weight of her satchel. Her pace got slower and slower with each heavy step, hardly able to handle the extra weight. Victoria pushed her legs to the verge of collapsing as she hurried to carry the extra scraps to the Metalworkers shop before evening curfew. She pushed through, thinking only of the Credits she would earn. Fifteen-year-old Victoria had done this many times in the six years of fending for herself.
​Shoving all other thoughts from her head, Victoria focused only on making it to the shop, then home, as soon as possible. The City slowly came into view, looming its dark factories and rundown buildings over the surrounding land. People streamed through the street, conducting last minute business transactions before curfew.
After the long walk, she arrived at the Metalworkers, the shop's shadow drenched the street in darkness, giving the rundown buildings an eerie look.
"Mantel!" She called, shifting her weight back and forth on her tired feet.
"What?" the stocky man growled, storming around the edge of the stand. "Oh, put it on the scale," He ordered, acting as though she were nothing more than one of the Upperclassmen's slaves. She heaved her satchel onto the scale and waited for Mantel to finish with his customer. Victoria straightened when she heard his heavy footsteps heading her way.
Trying to make a good deal was nearly impossible with Mantel; he was always trying to cheat someone out of their hard-earned money. By the time Victoria managed to finish her eyelids had grown even heavier than before. Without any doubt, she knew he had paid her but a fraction of what the scraps were worth. However, with her current situation, she would be a fool to not take the deal.
It normally took less than ten minutes to weigh and examine the scraps, but Mantel was tricky. He was always trying to rip you off whenever he could. It was a good twenty minutes later when Victoria left the metalworker's and headed home.
She dragged her rugged body up the crumbling stairs of Residence 11, her sore legs protesting every step. After the steps came the door, in need of a good oiling, then a mattress barely able to provide any cushioning. She groaned as she flopped down on the mattress. Victoria attempted to block out the last dancing rays of sunlight with her thick, dark hair.
A tentative knock came from the door, pulling Victoria away from the loving embrace of sleep.
"Vicky? Are you in there?" a barely audible voice asked. Victoria stumbled to open the door, squinting her eyes at the bright lightbulbs hanging in  the hallway.
"Hey, sweet, what's up?" Victoria smiled down at Eloise's trusting, blue eyes.
​"Rip isn't home yet, shouldn't he be?" Her rosy lips quivered with unshed tears, her mind no doubt re-playing every second of her parent's gruesome death.
"He must be working a later shift," Victoria assured, her brow furrowing in concern. "You can stay with me until he comes back, okay?"
"Really?" Her face lit up with a childlike smile.
"Yeah." Victoria moved aside, letting the fourteen-year-old into her dimly lit room. Eloise immediately ran over to the far wall and pulled a small rag doll off the shelf.
"Can you tell me the story, Vicky? Please?" She asked.
Victoria sighed. "Not right now. Why don't we eat something?"
"Rip says I shouldn't take food from anyone, not unless I work to pay for it." Eloise sighed. "No one has enough to share."
"We just don't tell Rip," Victoria grinned, hiding how much her heart ached for Eloise, so young, taking on far too much responsibility. Victoria grabbed the last loaf of bread from the bare kitchen shelf and split it in half, handing Eloise the larger section.
"Vicky, why is it so hard?" Eloise asked, tearing ravenously into the scanty meal.
"Why is what so hard?"
"Living... It's always a struggle to stay alive, no one ever helps you along."
"Some questions are difficult to answer, sweet," Victoria sighed. "Sometimes, you need to figure it out yourself."
"I don't want to have to work, I want to have tons of food every day, and fancy dresses, and have maids to do all the work for me." Eloise's eyes lit up at the idea.
"Come along, your highness," Victoria replied, doing her best attempt at an Upperclassmen's refined voice. "I do believe that I hear Rip returning from his perilous day of work."
"I do believe you are right. I shall take my leave." Eloise replied, curtseying. "I will see you on the morrow, my dear girl," She giggled, dancing out the door towards Rip's approaching footsteps.
Victoria barely made it back to the bed before her exhausted legs gave out. Her tired eyes closed, and her imagination went wild.
Victoria's past was not a place she chose to revisit, but it always happened. Her mind traveled to those first terrible years of her life. She lay in bed, hoping sleep would come before the darkness closed in, and the memories took hold.
In the dark recesses of her mind, she saw her father; his grimy hands grabbing her slim wrists. His angry words and terrifying temper. She clenched her eyes shut and thought of the only bright spot in her past, her sisters. Lilith was two, last time Victoria had seen her, just learning to speak in sentences. Her chubby cheeks, and light brown hair shining in the golden sunlight. Sandra was three; her brown eyes solemn, but her lips always parted in a mischievous smile. She remembered them crying, as they were taken away. Always screaming Vicky help us while Victoria stood there, unable to do anything. The only family she had ever loved ripped away by the one person she hated most of all.
Victoria panicked, their pleading calls ringing over and over in her ears. Her eyes flew open, their small voices cut off mid cry. She sat up, waiting for the nightmare to become reality. The darkness around her held many secrets. Shadows, people, memories, fear. Victoria sat awake through another nerve-wracking night, her eyes searching the reaches of darkness for terrors from her past.
6 Peterson/The Death of Hope
When the first rays of golden light filtered through the small window she was exhausted. Her eyes were bloodshot and tearstained. When she finally willed herself to the streets, ready to start another day, the news had reached the City.
Fear permeated Victoria's heart when she heard the news. The Leader had been murdered, his son would now take his place. To the Upper Class this meant nothing, but the Lower Class all knew what havoc it would wreak.
Choosing Day had arrived.