Hello! The storyline is definitely starting to pick up ;)
I lie on the sofa in the parlour, wishing that I could just stay there forever. I only sat down a few minutes ago, and that is after a 14 hour day of school, chores, and endless sewing in a musty room. I haven't even done my homework, and it is the last thing I want to do right now. I think I've lost all motivation for school, knowing that it is the least of my problems. I am here, making sure that the house doesn't fall apart. I try to keep everyone fed with what little we have, work tirelessly to add a little bit of money to what Dinah makes, and keep my little sister going too. I have to make sure that we survive.
"Jane! Are you awake?" I open my eyes to see Dinah standing right there.
"Dinah?" I ask, rubbing my eyes, "I thought you were supposed to be at work?"
"It's Sunday, remember? I have Sundays off."
"No, I don't remember, actually," I answer, "I just finished all my chores. There is some breakfast on the stove. I thought that I was just about to go to school."
"Well we have church, remember? Go upstairs and put on your nice dress please."
Now I can't even remember what day it is. I groan, and head upstairs to get dressed.
I open my closet and smile at my favourite dress. I put it on, along with the matching hat, hair ribbon, and lace gloves. I stand in the mirror in awe. There is just nothing like wearing your favourite dress. I stare in the mirror, at the beautiful sunshine yellow dress with large sleeves and the perfect amount of ruffles and lace. I look at the white lace gloves that compliment the dress, and I twirl around numerous times. Small pleasures like this feel like a light in our darkness.
"Jane!" I hear Dinah yell, "let's go!"
I get downstairs and see Dinah wearing her Sunday's best: a walking suit with a robin's egg blue satin skirt that flows to her feet, accompanied by a lacy white blouse and a matching jacket with large, puffy sleeves. I always feel like such a little girl standing next to my exquisite older sister; especially if I'm stuck wearing my knee-length dresses and pinafores.
Ruby comes downstairs with a lilac dress that is similar to mine, just another reason for me to feel like a small child.
***
Church has always been important to me and my family, and many parts of the service are usually in Welsh, such as the prayers. That part was the only drawback for mother and father when they came, but they don't usually mind because Dinah, Ruby and I can translate. In the rare times that I speak the Welsh that Dinah had taught me, it's usually here in church. While I must admit that church was something that I found rather boring not even a few months ago, now I find it to be more of a place of refuge. It feels more like a peaceful and quiet place where I can sit and rest.
After the service, everyone casually visits, and the children play. I stand with Dinah as Ruby plays outside with the other kids.
"...and then I told Todd that if he doesn't get out of the house, I will chase him with my wooden spoon myself!" One of the women laugh.
"And what about you, Dinah?" My attention quickly comes back as one of them eagerly turns toward Dinah, "Have you had any luck with suitors?"
I smile, trying to hold in my laughter, knowing very well that they won't be getting the answer that they want.
"Well," Dinah hesitates, "I haven't exactly had the time for that, as I've been working quite excessively."
"That is why you must make time!" Another lady giggles. That is when I decide not to stick around.
I walk away, only to barely get away when a group of old ladies corner me into conversation.
"My word! If it isn't our very own Jane Evans!" Says a frail old woman, "It has been so long. I blink and this little girl has grown into a beautiful young lady!"
I smile, remembering that she has said the same exact thing to me last week, and the week before.
"Bore da, Ms McLendon. I trust you are well?" I smile.
"Oh, yes," she answers, "I expect to travel to Portugal next week! I have my itinerary and my bags packed."
"Ach, Phyllis," says a slightly younger woman, "You have been saying that every day for two years."
"Well, I am going next week, Ada," She nods triumphantly, "you wait and see."
"And how is it with you, Jane?" another asks, "I haven't seen your parents in quite a few weeks, I hope they've been well."
"Thank you, Mrs Johansen," I answer. I think for a moment before saying, "But Father has been quite busy at work and Mother has been under the weather. She still insists that Dinah takes us to church."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear it," Mrs Johansen consoles, "be sure to send them our love."
"Thank you," I say abruptly, "if you'll excuse me I must... go."
I walk away rather quickly. I wish that I could send my parents their love. But I don't know if they would receive it alive or dead. I get to the large front doors of the church, and whip around to see all of the children with their mothers and fathers. Everything seems to go quiet, as if everything is underwater. My heart pounds. I turn around, rush out the door, and slam it behind me onto the bustling city street. I stand on the sidewalk, and yank off my hat. I clutch the hat in my hand, feeling part of the brim being crushed in my hand. I frantically turn around, over and over again, not even knowing what I am looking for. The little strength I had left to stay together completely leaves me and tears start spilling down my face.
I see Dinah emerge from the front doors, her face falling when she sees me in my rather upset state.
I chuckle, "you escaped the conversation, then?"
"It wasn't easy, wait until people start asking you about that matter." She pauses, then asks, "Has it been a hard day?"
"Yes," I answer, "I just..." I trail off, not even knowing what to say.
"I know. It's alright." She consoles, "we better get going, you have to work this evening."
We say our goodbyes to our congregation, and go home. I change into my work clothes, and hesitantly go to the sweatshop that I call my prison.
***
It has been about six hours, and I have been sitting in the same place, the whole time sewing the same seam over and over again. The rapid movement of the needle and the sound of the machine feels almost hypnotic. Or rather, it would be, if it wasn't covered by the noise of other machinery and the supervisor yelling with his wretched pipe. My feet push the large petal, up and down, up and down, nonstop. I feel like I could fall asleep like this. But no, I have to keep moving.
"Maria," I whisper to her, "how long have you been here?"
"I think it's been about eight hours for me," she answers, "I should hopefully be let off soon."
Maeve approaches the girl that sits on my other side, and says in her small voice, "Mr. Saunders says that your shift is done. I can take over."
The girl looks relieved, gets out of her chair and leaves. Maeve sits down and says nothing.
The hours begin to build up more and more, and the daytime slowly dissolves into night. At some point, Maeve leans over and desperately says, "Jane, I really have to go to the bathroom."
"Maeve," I answer, "you know we can't do that." I glance up to the double doors that you have to go through to use the bathroom. The problem is that the doors not only lead to the bathroom, but also the supply room. Thus, the doors are always locked to prevent girls from stealing, and using the bathroom.
"You used your two breaks hours ago," I mutter, "I doubt that Saunders will let you go."
"The least I could do is try," she explains promptly.
"Well good luck."
She gets up and approaches Saunders across the room. My heart feels like thunder in my chest. All I can picture is Maeve taking a blow from the pipe that Saunders holds with white knuckles. Everybody knows what happens if somebody asks Saunders for something. I watch as his face turns into his usual outrage.
"DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A CHARITY TO YOU?! AN ORPHANAGE!? YOU ARE HERE TO WORK! IF YOU CANNOT DO THAT THEN LEAVE AND DON'T COME BACK!!!"
I sigh in relief. He hangs our jobs over our heads all of the time; this is nothing out of the ordinary. Maeve comes back looking more desperate.
"I knew I shouldn't have drank all of that water," she exclaims.
I get up and quickly try to look around for something for Maeve. I check under tables and in every nook. Finally, I find a simple tin bucket.
"Maeve," I hold up the bucket and know that I don't need to say much. She yanks the bucket from my grip and we hurry over to the corner so she can have some privacy. Apparently we caught Saunders' eye in the process.
"GET BACK TO WORK! WE DON'T PAY LAZY WORKERS!" He hurries over to where we are and I try to block Maeve as much as possible.
"Sir," I say, "just one minute, I'm-"
"YOU'RE FILTHY!" he bellows, "GET BACK TO WORK OR I CAN TAKE AWAY YOUR WEEK'S WAGE!"
"Sir, we didn't have a choice," I eye the long, cold pipe in his hand. Maeve suddenly stands up, and turns around to face us.
"Don't worry, I'm done," she says in her tiny voice.
Saunders shoves me out of the way with his large hand, and I stumble out of the way.
"Back to work," he sneers, "your wages for the day are gone."
Maeve leaves to take care of the bucket and I sit back at my sewing machine. Back to sewing the same seam on the same sleeve over and over again.
***
I look up from the sewing machine and glance at the window; I'm not surprised that it's beginning to be light outside. This marks twenty-four hours for Maria, and I cannot describe how bored I am. I've completely lost track of how many sleeves I've made hours ago, and it feels nearly impossible for a sweatshop to own this much fabric for all of these sleeves.
"I can't take this anymore," Maria snaps, "I'm tired, I'm starving, and I should've been home hours ago."
"I was too," I explain, "I think most of us are being kept on way longer than we're supposed to be."
Hearing Maria talk about how tired and hungry she is makes me realise how tired I am, and it's showing in my work. I have to pick up the slack. Eventually, I hear Maria's machine stop. After I finish a seam, I turn my head and see her leaning on her machine, asleep. To be honest, I'm surprised that she can sleep in a place like this. She must've been incredibly tired.
Saunders rushes to Maria's table and slams on it with his pipe, jerking Maria awake.
"HAVE YOU GOTTEN ENOUGH SLEEP, LITTLE ITALY!?" he screeches, "HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT THIS JOB!?"
"Sir!" Maria pleads, "I have been here for twenty-four hours! My family must be worried about me!"
"WELL IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR FAMILY WILL BE EVEN MORE WORRIED WHEN YOU GO HOME AND TELL THEM THAT YOU'VE BEEN FIRED!"
Maria freezes. She glances at me and we are both at a loss for words.
"Mr. Saunders," she begs, "I need this job. I need it to help my family! We're trying to get money for my grandfather to live with us, and I need this job!"
"Well," Saunders answers, "If you need this job so badly, then making eight sleeves in one minute should be easy! Make me eleven sleeves and you can keep your job."
Maria's eyes widen, and she turns in her chair and starts furiously making sleeves while Saunders watches the time on his pocket watch. Maria is halfway through her eleventh sleeve when Saunders stops her.
"Time's up," he says, "you don't have eleven sleeves, so you're fired. You can leave."
Just when I can't take the cruelty anymore, I stand up, "Mr. Saunders, you cannot fire my friend over this! Maria should have been home hours ago, so of course she has fallen asleep!"
"Oh, so now what do you have to say?" he exclaims, "IS THIS PLACE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!?"
I shouldn't say anything, but instead my mouth moves faster than my head, "I should have been home HOURS ago! I only have this job to take care of my sisters! I WOULDN'T GO THROUGH THIS HELL HOLE RUN BY THE TOSSPOT YOU ARE IF I DIDN'T NEED TO!"
I stop, and realise what I had just said. Saunders' eyes widen, and his face turns a deep red. I have seen this only a couple of times before, and it always leads to-
"How DARE you," he grabs my wrist and drags me away; I cannot escape his grip no matter how hard I try.
"I have dealt with you for too long! You bring nothing but trouble!!"
A wave of dread suddenly washes over me as I realise where Saunders is taking me; his office. I hold Saunders' wrist with my other hand, trying to pry myself out of his grip, I try dragging myself behind, I thrash and resist as much as I can, but it's no use. Saunders opens his office door and throws me inside. I stand there, paralyzed with fear. I look around me, looking at the desk and bookshelves, but unlike a normal office, there are bottles and shards of glass and wood splinters everywhere. Saunders shuts the door, and he locks it behind him. I can't breathe.
He stomps over, in a fit of rage, and I feel a hard fist hit my face. There is a strong stinging sensation on my right cheek under my eye, and tingling in the rest of my face. I step back, in pure shock. I feel tears roll down my cheek.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE TOO GOOD, DON'T YOU!? WELL HERE'S A LESSON TO TAKE YOU OFF OF YOUR HIGH HORSE!"
He hits me in the face again, only harder. I try to keep my balance, but I fall sideways onto the floor and my forearm lands right on a shard of glass. I feel pieces of glass go through my sleeve and seep into my arm. I let out a shrill scream, when I feel hands wrap around my ankles and drag me backwards.
"STOP!!" I scream, "STOP IT!!"
I try to look around, but it feels hard to move. I do anyway, since at this point I'm only functioning off of adrenaline. I turn to lie on my back, and I can see Saunders start to approach closer. I don't even have time to think or feel fear. My hands reach down, and I grip Saunders' ankles. I lift my feet up to his hips and use it to push him down with every ounce of strength I have left. He lands on his rear end with a loud thump on the floor.
"WHY YOU LITTLE-"
I grab a bottle lying next to me and try to throw it; it narrowly misses his head and shatters on the wall behind him. I scurry to my feet, and run to the door, and desperately try to open the door only to remember: it's locked.
I instantly grow more desperate, and rush to the window, hoping to find a fire escape. I grab the window sill, to see it sloppily nailed shut. I find another broken bottle at my feet, and hold it by the neck, close to my abdomen. Saunders' arms close around my chest, and I do the only thing I could to be free from his grip: I jab the broken bottle into his arm as hard as I possibly could. He shrieks with pain, flinging his arms away. I run, and try my chance at the door again, knowing that it will be a longshot. I yank the door, and it flies open quite easier than I expected, and see Maria, Maeve, and another girl standing there.
I step out the door and slam it behind me, "what!?" I exclaim, "what did you guys do?"
"We pried open the door," Maria spat, "now, go!"
We sprint across the sweatshop, pushing past tables and stepping over scraps of fabric along the way.
"Get back to work!" I quickly say, "he can't know that you helped me!"
Maeve starts to run back to her table, and Saunders emerges from the doorway, "IF YOU WALK OUT YOU'RE NEVER WALKING BACK IN!"
I feel tears well in my eyes, and bellow, "GO TO HELL, YOU BASTARD!!"
With that, I slam the door behind me and sprint away.