I laid on my stomach, sprawled out on my cot. My chin dug into the sheets, my eyes sleepily blinking open and closed in a catlike manner.
I found myself staring at the wall and finding small bumps over the terrain, reminiscing about my home and family for a minute until the bitter betrayal stung me all over again.
They sent me here in the hopes that I would be trained well enough to make some money for our suffering financial situation.
Hurt pricked at my guts and I felt like crying all over again.
I rolled onto my back, tracing my finger over the ceiling tiles that were enveloped in the pitch black shadows that swam around most of the room.
All was quiet as my dorm mates were fast asleep. Only I was the remaining awake person, lost in their own mind and emotions. I remembered my purpose.
I was sent here because of my family. But I'm staying because I found my calling. I've always been a thief of sorts, my sticky finger instincts taking over whenever my family was at the local market- I somehow always found myself slipping an extra apple or miniature loaf of bread and cramming it into my pocket instantly before anyone could take notice of its disappearance.
I had always felt worthless in the fields, picking stalks of wheat and arranging them in stacks, bundling them up and hefting them back to the tractor, where me and my brother Lukas would drive it back home and sell it.
The field wasn't even ours though. Our aunt owned most of it but she allowed us to use a small portion of it, for our own purposes. She claimed she felt sorry for us, and then when we suffered the onslaught of medical bills when Lukas died... she abandoned us. Left our life. Told us she would report the wheat we took as a robbery if we didn't get the hell away.
We were left isolated with no money to support ourselves.
That was when VILE reached out, and they realized what had to be done.
Despite the urgency of our situation I couldn't help but hate everything.
My aunt, for being such a coward and wanting out of the debts that she knew she would face if she showed up to his funeral and possibly would've been forced to pay some of the billing since she was the only loaded relative we had.
My parents, for making that harsh decision.
And my brother... for... I suppose I can't hate him. He's died and that wasn't his fault. It was just an unfortunate incident.
I sigh, cool tears rolling down my cheeks and cascading off the edge of my face. "I miss you Lukas. To this day," I murmur, and I swore I could feel my brother's presence beside me, the scent of wheat and petroleum wafting into my nostrils for a split second, before it disappeared, a mere creation of my extensive imagination.