Gun. Invented in China during the 9th century, it is a weapon of destruction used by people to harvest billions of lives ever since its manufacture. One of those was a man that Cheshire and I killed to rob him of his possessions. Not the wisest decision I ever made. Still, just like my partner in crime at that time mentioned, we did it for the sole sake of survival.
But did we really have no choice? Did the world really forsake us so much that we had to resort to such measures? How did his family — if he even had one — react to the news of his death?
It's been seven years, yet I still have no answers to these questions, except that it's already known to me that his family was absolutely devastated. His mother didn't take the grief well. She hanged herself on the tree her own son diligently grew for the past thirty years.
I was not proud of myself for being able to wield such a weapon even if that was in a world that falsely advertises peace.
Nor was I proud of myself for taking the life of another in exchange for my own, yet at the same time, I do not regret living.
But sometimes, I wonder to myself if he truly deserved it at that time. After all, a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth could never hope to understand what hunger feels like. How desperation can consume the mind so much that it casts aside your humanity and dignity.
While this country claims to be an advocate against violence, they sure had no problems reproducing toys modeled after a tool that they deemed inappropriate enough to pass it off as illegal. Anyone who was caught in possession of it would be arrested except in the cases of self-defense. In fact, such toys are so widespread throughout the nation that even the middle-class family I'm offering my cleaning services to has a whole room dedicated to them.
Imagine dedicating a ten-meter square space just for legal replicas of guns. Oh, well. At least this one doesn't make your soul leave your body, although it still contains bullets. Bullets that are made out of foam.
As I thoroughly make sure to annihilate every speck of dust and dirt present within the kids' toys room, the memories I have so carefully tucked away were silently resurfacing. Therefore, focusing on the task at hand was proving to be difficult. But trying harder to turn my attention away did not seem like an effective solution. It quickly became a reason why I began recalling the events that transpired that very night.
Very well. It seems that this circumstance cannot be avoided. Perhaps I've run away for too long already, and it's now time to face reality.
Carefully placing all the stuffed toys in their designated containers, I took a deep sigh and went into auto-function mode.
"Th-This just doesn't seem fair, Cheshire..." My voice cracked and faltered. Articulating my opinions was a struggle in front of the looming shadow of authority before me.
"Fair?" she questions, anger rising in her face. "Do you think any of that matters now?! I'm sure he's lived a pretty happy, normal, and fulfilling life that all of us here in the slums can't possibly hope to dream of, so what's wrong with giving up his life just to feed two kids?!"
A small sound of plastic vibrated within the four walls as the broom hits the Optimus Prime toy. I reached for it and put it back along with the others.
"It's just th-that—"
"Eliza, that's enough already!" Cheshire snapped. Her eyes glared at me, and if looks could kill, I would have been reduced to ash by now. "I don't wanna hear any more complaints from you, understand?!"
Nodding was all I could do against her. In front of Cheshire, I was powerless and weak.
During my elementary days, a lot of my classmates used to mock my eccentric food choices, especially those who were in well-off families. Although they seemed so cozy in their pathetic thrones, they never possessed enough courage to go beyond anything verbal; one glare was more than enough to make them scamper away.
As a result, I was completely segregated from the whole class. No one wanted to talk to the kid who can't even properly say good morning. No one wanted to sit with the kid who looked like she hadn't bathed in years. No one wanted to be seen with the kid who failed every Math test.
In short, no one wanted to be with a loser like me.
But that was fine. After all, I was so used to being alone that I'd question everything if it were otherwise. I couldn't fathom anyone holding my hand as we walked together to the sunset. It always felt like the world was against me. A statement that those on the other end of the spectrum would casually laugh at and say, "You're quite the drama queen, aren't you?"
This series of events continued for a while until my foster parents came.
Suddenly, it felt like a hand reached for me in the dark and brought me into the light. Adjusting was a task too difficult to complete, but little does that matter so long as they held my hand. No longer did I sleep on the floor. No longer did I have to eat rotten mice to survive. No longer did I get damp in the rain. No longer did I have to struggle to learn something by myself.
Suddenly, I wasn't all alone anymore.
That's when I decided to change. My grades improved. Math became my favorite subject, and every test paper came back with full marks; not even a single blunder was present. The pathetic little girl who sat by herself in the corner became so distant in the past that it technically became a myth. To repay their kindness, I simultaneously gave and cast aside everything.
No, that's wrong. I'm not that considerate of a person.
I just didn't want them to leave me all by myself again. I didn't want to return to the darkness after finally getting out. I didn't want to feel sorrow anymore after finally acquiring solace.
But it seems destiny didn't agree. Like a cycle, it repeats itself.
Everyone leaves. No one stays by my side.
Not even the ones who brought me into this world.
Or the ones who temporarily acted as a family to me.
Oh, well. that's enough backstory for today.
Most toys have been placed where they rightfully belong. A single stroke of my finger on the shelves told me that my job here was done. Even the rags have been vacuumed, and the stains are cleaned away. It's time to depart. The multiple knocks from the door eventually cemented my theory. After letting the mischievous little kids in, they marveled over the sight of their newly cleaned toy room. Something that they probably won't see again after three seconds.
Upon expressing my gratitude to the father who handed me my income, I left without another word. A sigh of relief escaped my lips the moment I plopped down onto my fluffy bed, the only piece of furniture that costs more than my books. After all, if you're going to spend about 1/3 of your life in it, why not spend more to make yourself comfortable?
Just as I was about to drift to my dreamland, a sound notification my phone emitted snapped me back to reality. It came from an app, whose orange logo was very familiar to me. The place wherein my writing journey began. Wattpad.
DragonQueen
Hello, thank you very much for participating and judging in the Dragon Awards, despite your busy schedule! Your reviews are as magnificent as ever, very clear and concise. We appreciate your time and effort, and we hope that you would also consider supporting our upcoming Awards next year. Again, thank you very much!
Evelline
You're welcome! It was an honor working with you and everyone else. I genuinely enjoyed the experience and will consider doing it again next time if my schedule allows it. Have a great week!
Right. It almost slipped past my mind. Last week, this impulsive brain of mine signed up to judge three Awards simultaneously. Definitely not the wisest decision. It mostly stemmed from my cockiness and utter confidence in my reading and reviewing skills. In hopes of ensuring that suffering from burnout would not be an option, limitations were set in place. Results were to be expected after a month and only three chapters per book would be required to be read.
Currently, twenty other books are still in line. Maybe I could take four off the list tonight if I put my soul on it. Gonna be an absolute pain in the neck, but it's still doable. Oh, well, I can just stop whenever it feels suffocating. There's always next time.
Q: It seems that almost every female protagonist on Wattpad has a sad past. What do you think of Eliza joining the bandwagon?
Author's Notes commented inline here ➵