Of Winds And Quakes

16. The Scream

Year of the Lilies
Torrid Season
The Hut
Altsas

Mavli

MY FACE FEELS TENDER. Like cooked meat especially my right cheek. My right eye is swollen and sore. My mouth is bleeding and I'm sobbing.

I sit at the corner I sat yesterday night and early this morning. I rest my forehead on my knees and wrap my hands around my legs. I cry loudly not minding that there are nine other people in the hut.

I cry till my throat stings and gets really sore and till my voice breaks.

A calloused palm rests on my shoulder, I shrug it off but it doesn't stay away but reclaims my shoulder. "Please eat."

I sniff. I'm not hungry, I don't have an appetite for the poorly made cornmeal porridge that some other workers made.

"You'll need your strength,"the voice is very gentle and kind. Its female and it reminds me of my mother.

"Just leave me alone," I say. I shrug off the hand again and this time, it stays off.

"Can I look at it?" The warm voice asks.

I ignore her. My eyes are now dry and void of any moisture. My sobs have turned into hiccups, I hear the woman leave my side and I'm relieved. I don't want any company or attention. I just want to be by myself and on my own.

Raising my head, I wipe away tears and snot unto my shirt. And blink my eyes several times to regain my vision. It takes me a while to realize that something is wrong; the hut is pin-drop silent and all eyes are on me.

I refuse to be intimated or shy. "Wh-What's going on?" My voice sounds like a squeal.

They exchange looks and stare at me again, their eyes leave mine for a few seconds when someone enters the room. The woman is in her mid-twenties, she has shaven head and a plastered deadpan expression.

She holds a wooden cup to my lips. "Drink."

I glance at her before I rest my lips on the rim and take a few gulps, I sigh as I lean back and close my eyes.

"How do you feel?" She asks.

"All right." I lie easily.

"Crying makes it better, doesn't it?" Her tone is a sharp contrast to her deadpan expression.

"Absolutely."

Her hard palm finds my hand and gives it a squeeze. "We're proud of you."

"We?" I peek out from under my lashes.

She nods and exchanges glances with everyone else in the room. Before I can understand what's going on, a horde of nine bodies surround me and are hugging me.

I hold my breath, and don't say a word. Some of them pat me on the back, a few ruffles my already tangled hair, I even feel a kiss on my cheek. The display of affection makes my eyes brim with tears.

The woman wipes away my tears with her fingers. "What you did was a true act of bravery, Mavli."

"Thank you," I say. My hiccups have vanished and strangely enough, the pain from my cheek has reduced.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do anything about it," a man with short dreadlocks says.

"We can't all be heroes," another man chips in.

"I'm not a hero,"I say slowly, "but circumstances mold us. I chose not to shackle myself because to me, it symbolizes locking myself up," I pause,"and I can never lock myself up."

The room falls silent, my words are sinking into there hearts.

"Don't you all want to reunite with your families? I know I do. I miss my sister so dearly. I don't ever want to be separated from her again-"