5 Chapter 5

The dishes are always dirty because my father does nothing. I stand over our sink and scrub them mindlessly, a task I am far too used to. I'm anxious today, more so than usual because I know my dad's friend Terry is coming over today—I hate that man. "Almost done, sweetie?" I hear my mom ask me, her hand brushing my shoulder. "Yes, mother." I say softly. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I smile at her, not wanting her to know I'm upset in the slightest. Everyone in the narrow is poor, our resources were low because our government was not concerned with our dedication. You won't get hot water for a shower unless you wake up before everyone else, which is what I do. We do our dishes in freezing cold water and mostly shower or bathe in cold water. I do my best not to dirty my clothes too much because it's hard doing laundry and I'm usually in the same skirt for about a week. I hear terry enter the house with my father and I go tense, hoping my mother did not notice. I don't feel her eyes on me anymore which means she's putting on her housewife act. "Ah, Terry! Good afternoon. Here, let me take your coat." My mom coos. I can't see what she's doing—I don't dare turn around, I focus on the dishes now like I'm performing surgery. "Are you alright, Marlene?" I hear my dad suddenly ask me. I simply nod and smile at him as I scrub the dishes. "I'm fine, yes." I say softly. I can feel Terry's eyes on me and I suddenly feel dirty, like I need to shower. "She's growing up awfully fast, Kyle!" Terry says in a casual manner that makes me sick to my stomach. I know the things going through his head and they're not innocent. I know what he really means when he says I've grown up. Because I know how Terry speaks to me when my parents aren't around. Sure enough, I hear my dad opening the bathroom door and my mother is cleaning the living room. I can feel Terry's breath on the nape of my neck, causing my hair to move slightly in its wake. "It's good to see you, birdie." I say nothing, I purse my lips and stare out of our kitchen window just in front of me, wishing my brother would come inside. "You get prettier every time I see you, girl." He's close to my ear now and I hate the way his words feel against it. I don't dare make a sound, I do not protest the behavior, do not call for help. I know who'd be seen as the bad guy and it wouldn't be him, to put it simply. Suddenly my eyes tick to someone approaching my brother from outside—his friend, Juan. I stare at him like he is some shiny thing I've never seen before even though I have seen him a million times. He and my brother are smiling and making jokes I assume because they're laughing amongst each other. I am no longer paying attention to what Terry is doing to me even though I can feel his hand inside of my underwear, doing things to me that I hate—things I am too young to be exposed to, I stare at the birds on the swing set outside of my window and wait for my nightmare to end.

*

We are briskly walking through an escape tunnel built into the structure of this building, the girl from earlier with the shaved head stays close to me as we walk, Pat is behind her. I don't even know her name but it just occurred to me that she seems to consider me a friend. I bite my lip and sigh "what's your name?" I ask her, quietly. She smiles, odd. "Gwen. Yours?" I return the smile even though it doesn't feel natural to do so "Marlene." She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head "doesn't suit you." She says. I smile, for real this time "I've always said that.." "do you have any nicknames?" I shake my head "not allowed in my dedication. It's seen as disrespectful." She roles her eyes "I'm calling you Mar." she simply states in a way that does not suggest she wants me to refuse and so I don't, I like the idea of a nickname. A nickname will further separate me from my old life, the one I hate. And so that's how my friendship with Gwen starts, with something as simple as a nickname. I wonder what dedication she's from. She can't be from purity, she wouldn't talk as much as she did nor as loud. There's no way she's Justice, she's too free spirited and clings to me for safety way too naturally. I think maybe Pat might be Justice, he seems like the soldier type, looking out for everyone. I wonder how many were vaccinated before the revolt..maybe all of us—maybe even Rebecca. I suddenly feel a hand on my chest, stopping me. There's a small beam of moonlight shining through a crack in the wall in front of us. "This is it, this is our exit." Rebecca says. "A crack in a wall?" A young man from further back asks. "We're going to bust it down, Einstein." Gwen says hotly. I sort of like her attitude problem. I smile as Rebecca settles them down. "Yes, as Gwen here so nicely put it. We're going to have to bust the wall down. Its structural integrity is already awfully damaged so it won't take much." Pat approaches with a very large firearm in one hand, a cigarette in his lips. "Stand back." He announces. Everyone steps back and away from him. "Cover your ears." He adds and everyone does as he asks. I Turn toward Gwen, ears covered and eyes squinted shut as I hear a loud bang and the whole room rattles through me, pressing my ribcage. I can feel hands on my shoulders and I know it's Gwen. I can't hear her because of the ringing in my ears but I can tell she's asking me if I'm okay, I nod. "Let's go!" Rebecca calls to everyone in a loud whisper. It's dark out so sneaking around will be easier. But there's a lot of us, even as concealed as we are, it is impossible to stay entirely silent with this many people. "You have a plan in mind, I assume?" I hear Pat whisper to Rebecca. She simply nods and gestures for us to keep following her. "The hole has a lot of safe houses stationed around the city. There's one close to where we are." "How close is close?" Gwen asks, a tiredness to her voice. Rebecca shrugs, smiling sheepishly. "Close enough." I'm sure Rebecca knows, by now, that for most of the people she is their only hope. Even if we were tired of all the walking we wouldn't have much luck surviving on our own—they wouldn't anyways, I'd be fine. I knew I would.

*

"There must be some mistake-" "no! There's no mistake here. It was your daughter! She's always been trouble!" I cower back into my room, my heart is racing. I don't even know what I'm being accused of but I know I'll be punished for it, regardless. I sit against my door, chewing my thumbnail. "I will not let this go unpunished! I suggest you teach your daughter how to behave!" The voices are muffled but I can hear them. "Make her apologize to my daughter! She's beside herself, entirely!" My eyes grow wide and I know—Janet went and wined to her mom about the argument we got into at school. It wasn't even that big of a deal, I was defending myself. Suddenly my ears feel hot and my chest is heavy. I swing my door open, I'm mad. I march into the room. "Ah good, she can apologize now." I scoff "I'll do no such thing." I say, flatly. "Exc-" "I only said what I said in defense of myself. Maybe your daughter should learn some manners." I can't stop the words from spilling "she's rude, she's a very mean girl and she always has been. My mother did my hair different for school today as a birthday gift to me and all your daughter did was make fun of it with her friends. I simply corrected her, if she can't take criticism she shouldn't hand it out." I say. "Though I'm sure she didn't tell you that part. My mom taught me how to be kind, and I always am. Same as my brother. I'm sorry I hurt your daughter's feelings but—" I clear my throat "but she hurt mine as well." I smooth my skirt and my hair down and leave the room, shutting my door behind me.

It's been hours and no one has come into my room to scream at me for my behavior. Soon enough my mother enters and I am nervous, afraid—but I say nothing. She sits down next to me on my bed, she looks sad. "What did Janet say about your hair?" She simply asks. I look down, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Marlene, what did she say to you?" I play with a strand of my hair "now you have a rats nest just like your mother." I say it low and soft. I can tell the words hurt her and that hurts me. "I'm sorry mom, I didn't want to tell you.." she shrugs "it's okay, sweetie. Thank you." She says, nudging me. I am..confused "for what?" I ask, she smiles "for defending your mother." I smile back at her, wide. "Of course." I say. "May I ask what you said back to her?" I smile "I told her I was just trying to make a proper home for her and her mother." My mom covers her mouth and snickers, like she wasn't expecting to do so. "Oh, Marlene! That's awful!" She says through a chuckle. I'm laughing with her "I know." I like making my mom laugh because I know she doesn't do it often. Being a woman in our dedication was not easy.

*

"There." Rebecca points in the distance at a small light. It's far but it's there "that's the safe house. Well, one of them." I look at Gwen and she's squinting "oh good, more walking." She says. I let out a small chuckle and Rebecca sighs "I'm sorry, Gwen. Next time I'll get a taxi, just for you." Gwen chews the inside of her cheek and we keep walking. So far, I like Rebecca. She's stern but knows how to lead which is something I respect. I like Gwen too, even if she is a bit fiery...a little too much of an Aries sometimes. Pat is someone I'm trying every minute to figure out, he doesn't talk as much lately as he did before and he seems...different. He's tall, very tall, and very rugged. I still believe his dedication was Justice. The more I look at his facial features the more he oddly looks like my father, and my brother. Same nose, same eyes...maybe my brain is just trying to help me cope with their loss. The trauma does all sorts of things to my head lately...maybe seeing someone be protective reminds me of how my brother was with me—right before he died. Rebecca approaches the gates alone. We stay behind and let her do her thing. Moments later she motions for us to follow and we do so quietly but quickly. All filing into an underground entrance. "This safe house is old but it's sturdier than the newer ones." My mind swirls with questions. Why were these necessary before the revolt? Why does Rebecca know so much about them? I want to know what's been going on in our city for so long. Why were these safe houses even built in the first place if the revolt happened only a couple of weeks ago? I won't dare ask, I don't trust anyone enough yet. I'd rather figure these things out myself anyways. Lately, it seems like that's the best route to take, keeping my biggest thoughts to myself and observing. Taking mental notes of everything I see that makes my brain itch. This safe house is bigger but in a different way. Structurally it is messier but looks more lived in. Lights are strung about the ceiling in different directions and places, softly lighting up the space. There's makeshift stairs, beds, and lounging areas spread around every corner. There's tons of things decorating the walls, pictures, old posters, license plates, and road signs. I am smiling, I realize. I feel relaxed here, it's cozy. "You're finally here.." a woman with long red hair says, running down a staircase in front of us, she is talking to Rebecca. "I guess you know what that means.." Rebecca says, softly. The woman nods at her and peers over her shoulder at us. "Is this all that's left?" Rebecca nods, I can't see her face so it's hard for me to know if that's a good thing or not. "Very well, then. Let them get settled while we talk." Rebecca nods and turns to face us "things are pretty laid back around here. Find a space you like and claim it. I have some things to handle, don't make trouble." And with that she follows the woman up the stairs and into a room, shutting the door behind her. Gwen looks at me as though she is searching for something..I can tell she's nervous. "We can find a space to share." I say to her with a smile, hoping it'll ease her. She nods and follows me as I take my own personal tour of the space. It's cluttered but in an organized way. The areas with beds and rooms are spacious and colorful and the beds look comfortable. most of the rooms aren't blocked by doors, but colorful curtains and tapestries. I find one, a bright yellow and orange one and touch my fingers to it. It's soft and the bright colors make me feel safe. I press past the curtain and the room behind it is perfect. Two beds, on either side of the room, a large dresser, and softly lit lights strung along the ceiling. I smile and gesture Gwen to follow me into the room, letting the curtain fall behind us. "Oh, this is awesome!" She says, smiling. She hops onto one of the beds and lets out a sigh "I call this half of the room." I smile and nod, glad to take the other side with the taller bed. In my dedication, I'd never be allowed to have such colorful blankets on my bed..I smile and run my hands along the designs sewn into the blankets and comforter. My bed is very cushioned and very warm. To anyone else, a bed is probably not this big of a deal but for me it is. I grew up poor, on a bed that was as hard as stone with thin grey blankets and a boring grey room. The first time I took a hot shower in The Hole I cried because I was so overwhelmed with the privilege to do something I was not able to before. I think The Hole will always be my true home, the place I felt freedom for the first time and hot water on my skin. These types of things are very important to me now and I will always remember to cherish them whenever I can. Laying in this bed now, I feel more grateful to be alive than I ever have before.