Hostages

Stereotypes were created partly because of the prejudice that circled in a person's mind and partly because of man's nature of following—following customs, following cultures, following traditions, following myths—just blindly accepting the pre-existing norms of the society without reasoning out a—why?

These stereotypes are everywhere around us, sometimes veiled so immaculately that you don't even know that you are a part of them. The obvious seldom tends to be at a hand's distance but we are just so used to it that it crosses our eyes and we never spare a glace to the glaring palpable.

Just like everyone else, Edith too was ignorant to the glaring obvious within her sight. The glaring obvious that she was walking right towards her own doom.

"Oh sweetie, it's so nice to see you!" The woman, who opens the door upon Toril's knock, exclaims. Her bambi eyes running excitedly over Edith's fidgeting figure.

"You smell delicious, my darling!" she exclaims while scrunching her nose at Edith.

That's a red flag because Edith hasn't showered for three days now.

Don't judge. College students are busy people.

The woman further opens the door to let her husband and the babysitter in. Toril kisses his wife's forehead and escapes inside while the woman steps out, invading Edith's cherished personal space, and curiously leans closer to her.

"Ahem, I wouldn't if I were you," Edith coughs, not trying to be rude—but clearly offending.

She steps inside the house from the gap of doors that let out a bright strip of fluorescent yellow light. The woman paid no heed to Edith's coldness and closes the door behind her.

"I'm Edith Chambers," the blonde introduces herself, eyes wandering over the layout of the Maely abode. It was quite similar to hers, just a lot brighter, vibrant, funky and, well, rich.

The hall seemed to be cozy with all the colors mixing and matching together. A sofa set, a big TV screen, a bookcase in one corner, a pretty wood carved tea-table, colorful couches and weird antiques that Edith felt too out of place to ask.

"Oh! I already knew that silly, I was the one who picked your advertisement form the community board. Quite a sense of humor you've got there darling, I'm Nettie, Nettie Maely, Toril's lovely wife!" the woman exclaims again—in what Edith assumed was a part-British and part-Australian accent—suddenly jumping out of nowhere in front of Edith's face, making the latter flinch in surprise.

The older strawberry blonde just giggles and holds out a hand for Edith to shake. But all Edith's brain could ponder was: HOW IS THIS PERSON A WOMAN?! SHE DOESN'T LOOK A DAY OVER 20!

Nowhere on her chubby cheeks, button nose, wide forehead or plump lips did Edith see any offense lingering due to her past words. Assuming the woman to be innately good-natured she brought forth her hand and shook it with Nettie's.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she states with her voice devoid of any emotion. "Would you like to list out any certain rules for me to follow while you are out?" the question was meant to be a gentle request, but everything just came out plain rude and dry from Edith's mouth.

"So sweetie you need to be careful with the lamps, don't switch them off. And don't blow any candles. Don't go near..."

Edith involuntarily zones out, focusing on admiring Nettie's rhinestone embroidered, silk, knee-length, wine-colored dress that hugged her voluptuous figure in all the right places.

Walking further inside, the young blonde found Toril Maely whispering something in his daughter's ear with a mischievous smile on his face.

The chatter of Nettie made the father-daughter duo split apart in an instant. They look like amateur thieves a baby step away from being caught red-handed while doing a super-secret-super-cool heist.

Must be nice to have good family bonds.

The Maley family, standing in one room together was too stunning a sight to witness. They were unreal, smack dab cartoon character living and breathing in her presence.

'What do they even eat...?' Edith wonders, 'innocence on Mondays, beauty on Tuesdays and drink the elixir of life for the rest of the weekdays?' Edith assumes upon seeing the family stand side by side, looking adoringly in each other's eyes.

Too much love.

"And that's probably all of it, I hope you remember!" Nettie claps, pulling Edith out of her reverie.

All of what—?

Upon seeing Nettie's expectant expression, Edith just nods to feign agreement. Was Nettie talking all along...?

Guess she'll never know.

The couple collectively thank Edith for her presence, fetch their coats and purses, share hugs and kisses with their daughter and leave in a flurry.

Even their behinds were beautiful.

Edith looks over at Pristine Maely.

Toril Maely had told that his daughter's name was Pristine, and Edith stereotypically believed that the girl would be exactly like her name suggested—pure, unspoiled and perfect. Someone did say that a person is what their name suggests.

Unsurprisingly, Pristine Maely was a sight, possessing the same otherworldly beauty. Must be a genetic thing, Edith concludes. Her strawberry blonde ringlets fall innocently over her shoulders but those big hazel eyes glint with mischief. Edith frows at the child's small form, taking in her violet frilly frock and furry slippers.

Edith bends to Pristine's eye level as the child maintains her staring stance.

"What's your name?" the little girl asks.

Her tone makes Edith feel as if Pristine were one of those disguised witches that go to lengths to know your name so that they can perform black magic on you.

"Do you go to school?" Edith counters. Pristine crosses her arms in front of her chest and tongues her cheek.

"I like tea parties, do you?"

"I hate lizards, do you have any pets?"

"Dolls are just nasty. A hassle. Mum calls them a manifestation of evil, a source of blind money and unrealistic idols which create complexes in a child's minds."

Edith's expressions betray her surprise. "That's some big words for a...were you not supposed to be like...nine years old?"

"My teacher has the worst screeching voice."

Edith grins widely, "Now I know that you go to school! I won!"

Pristine's former smirking face is now contorted in a look of disbelief. She scoffs, tonguing her cheek then snarkily replies, "Well for your information I know that your name is Edith Chambers."

"Good, drill that in your head sweet cheeks," Edith speaks smugly, not even feeling petty over winning a brat-battle with a child literally ten years younger than her.

Of all things wilding unjust in the world, there was one thing that Pristine Maely would never accept and that was disrespect.

Deceit, lies, and un-perfection were pretty high on that list but that is not the topic at hand. Even if she lived for only nine years in this world, there was no way she could let people step over her and leave.

No.

The Maelys were not a family to be messed with; She learnt this when she was six and her father helped her sneak dead lizards into her bully's desk— the guy assumed that it was fine to throw stones at someone who wears pink because they were "weak".

As if.

Pristine is no child. Her parents raised her well. So, being the mature person Pristine is, she stomps over Edith's foot in retaliation and runs out of the room.

So much for being raised well.

Edith, caught off guard, gasps in surprise and shouts a, "Pristine Maely you insolent f-f-f—brat!" at an empty room whilst retracing the little girl's footsteps.

<3

For the next two hours or so, Edith and Pristine were going round and round through their first encounter. Every time Edith would ask a question, Pristine would give her hell and every time Pristine needed help, Edith would be a brat. The conclusion of the hour: Edith is so not apt for baby-sitting.

"Do you want to eat or starve the night away?!" Edith asks for the nth time in an hour.

Only to receive a ridiculous, "Global warming is coming," in reply. That child was too socially aware for her own good.

"Should I bathe you or do you wanna smell like the trash you already are?" Edith questions, being distracted from the movie because Pristine decides it would be fun to make herself a cereal and accidentally poured soy milk on herself.

Who eats cereal with Soy Milk anyway?!

"Shut up, Global warming is coming!" was another swift reply from the child that ran out of the room before Edith could blink.

The blonde teen huffs in annoyance, "You test my patience in undeserving ways..."

The thought of not getting paid after tolerating the poisonous presence of Pristine Maely makes Edith shudder and follow milk spots to her room.

She knocks, out of common curtsey which she was not obligated to posses but when money matters you do things you don't have to, and then turns the knob open.

The bed is directly in front of the door, like any other stereotypical American family, with Pristine Maely sitting on it with crossed legs and arms, biting her lower lip with an intense passion of making it bleed to the point of non-existence.

"Hey," Edith tries to speak softly but, let's be honest, when has it ever worked?

From the way Pristine's throat went up and down, Edith knew Pristine had been sobbing. Now she feels guilty. A tad.

"Get out and let me smell like the trash that I am!" Pristine snaps and pulls the bed covers over her, assuming the position of a shrimp.

Edith rolls her eyes, gulping and walking inside, "Okay, I agree that I have been a trashy baby-sitter. I apologize, alright? I'm sorry." She sighs, now standing just an inch away from the bed.

Edith's mouth itches to add, 'you've been no better' but it wouldn't help the situation right now.

"I don't wanna forgive you," Pristine huffs from underneath her blue Doraemon covers.

Edith lets out an amused scoff.

"Well it's all up to you, I don't care. Just saying that I can run a bath real quick while the pizza arrives. Global warming is coming, you know," Edith smirks after setting her trap.

A subtle movement in the sheets and the slight lift on the right side reveales Pristine's hazel eyes and a soft questio, "Global warming is real. What's a pizza?"

The genuine curiosity in Pristine's eyes baffles Edith beyond the point of personal-space-concern. Gasping, Edith aggressively pulls off the covers from Pristine's body.

"Don't tell me you don't know what a pizza is!?"

Pristine shakes her head staring at Edith's flabbergasted face.

"For a child with extreme social awareness, your nonchalance in taste astounds me!" Edith pulls Pristine up and enters the bathroom.

"It is perpetually unacceptable that a young person, in their childhood, who has no fear of developing any kind of disease, whatsoever, has not had a taste of heaven on Earth. Nope. Not happening on my watch."

"Is it a human food?" Pristine questions carefully.

Edith's eye twitches. "It doesn't affect Global Warming."

"Everything affects global warming," Pristine counters but Edith presses her lips and shoves her in the shower.

After a quick bath, that included Edith ranting, Pristine ignoring and changing into fresh clothes, that involved Edith grumbling and Pristine being moody on what set of clothes she should wear to enhance her aura, they sit down, waiting for their pizza to arrive.

Sitting on the four-seater dining table situated in front of the kitchen island, Edith scrolls on her phone while Pristine googles, 'Does Pizza affect Global Warming?'

A search result pops up, from a website called FoodandWine, that reads, "Amazingly, the city of over 11 million people produces about one million pizzas per day, adding up to over 307,000 tons of wood burned each year. That much smoke is not without its environmental impact."

Pristine runs up to Edith and shows her the article to which the blonde swats her hand away and replies, "I could care less."

Pristine gasps at Edith's insensitivity, eyes widening but before she could word her turmoil, the bell rings.

"The delivery man must be here," Edith sighs and stands up.

"When are they going to start caring?!" Pristine scoffs, "When the world burns down?!"

The little girl snorts and walks away, not wanting to eat the pizza anymore.

Edith unlocks the door, uncaring of the dangers standing beyond it. She opens it to the face of dead-beat wannabe 80s royal guards. Is this some door to door skit thing?

"You guys having a fancy dress up or something? Where's the food?" Edith pulls her lips in a straight line, stomach grumbling.

"You're the food," he replies with a slimey smile.

Edith nods to herself. This wasn't the delivery guy. Her mind rings off alarm bells.

"PRISTINE, RUN!!" Edith screams out of the blue. Panic, they both do.

Edith tries closing the door but the man shoves his foot in between. She runs but he pulls her by her hair and injects something in her neck.

The liquid leaves a cooling trail. She could feel her brain stop working into overdrive. She felt, cool, eerily cool...and lightheaded...and happy...what was it...drugs?

Edith feels her eyes drooping, giving way due to some non-existent pressure that was weighing them down. Her heart, it was beating fast...faster...pretty fast...a breathy sigh escapes from her lips and through her drooping eyelids, she sees fog coming out of her lips. "Ah..." she groans out, "pretty..." she slurs.

She feels as light as a feather, just one blow and anyone could make her fly...fly...was she floating now? She was clearly elevated...what is happening to her? Did she drink some poison? Is she dying? Is this how death feels like? Cold and lightheaded...?

Is this happening because she didn't concern herself with the environment?

She tries to look up, but something was weighing her down. The gravity...it was too much! But then why was she feeling as if she was floating...?

"Ah...ugh..." she managed to moan out in pain...or was it exhilaration...? She did not know. She did not know anything!

The last thing Edith saw before giving in to the intense pressure that seemed to be hell-bent on pulling her down, was Pristine's Maely's horrified face above her. Above her...? Was she down already? On the ground...? Who will protect Pri..stine...?