Okay, I'm either brave or possessed.
But I've decided to post a chapter from my WIP.
I would love some constructive criticism, or any comments on it at all.
Thanks.
Here we go...*bites nails*
Another day, another flying plate.
“Mom!” Darcy screamed, ducking as a cup followed the
plate. Thankfully it just bounced off the wall, the corner chipping, but was
otherwise salvageable. She stooped over, grasped the broken plate pieces in her
hands and ignored the old wounds that re-opened and fresh ones making their
debut.
Mae
Hallow was having another one of her episodes. They had taken up a significant
part of Darcy’s childhood, and she remembered that they got progressively worse
after her Dad died and her sister had been taken for service two years ago.
The past two years of her life had been hell, but it
was her life. And you deal with the hands you’re dealt, she told herself. You
don’t complain. You just try to make the best of a bad situation and pull the
best poker face possible so no one can tell if you’re aching inside.
Mae
collapsed in a heap on the kitchen floor, murmuring to herself as she rocked
back and forth. Darcy found a rag and hid the broken pieces, making the whole
nasty situation disappear, and steadied herself against the counter. Slick
blood seeped between her fingers. She took a deep breath, clenched her fist and
grabbed another cloth to staunch the wounds before comforting her mother.
“Everybody leaves. Everybody. Everybody leaves...”
Mae rocked back and forth, back and forth, eyes wide and glistening. Darcy
stooped over, swept the matted hair from her mother’s eyes and rested a
comforting hand on Mae’s shoulder, only to feel her tense against the touch.
“It’s going to be okay, Mom. Everything will be
okay.”
“Nothing’s okay,” she cried, “Derek, Raina....gone.
Gone forever. I have nothing left, nothing.”
What
about me? Darcy thought, feeling tears scorch and well in her
eyes. Am I nothing?
“I have nothing but you.” Mae grabbed Darcy’s arm
with a bruising force, refusing to let go. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“Mom...” Darcy grew uncomfortable.
“Please don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Darcy continued stroking
the hair on her mother’s crown and wondering when their roles had been reversed,
then realised they always had been.
“But,” Mae’s bottom lip trembled with emotion. “If
you have to go...”
“I’m not going anywhere--”
“Don’t forget to say goodbye. No one ever says
goodbye.”
Darcy paused, but nodded her assent, watching her
mother crane her neck, eyes pleading for an answer.
“I promise.” Darcy patted her mother’s hand, reached
down and gripped her beneath the armpit to pick her up. Mae stumbled forward as
Darcy helped her out of the cramped kitchen and into her bedroom, before
tucking her under the sheets, closing the curtains and shutting the door behind
her. Darcy leaned against the hard wood, and blinked the last few tears away.
If she cried every time this happened, she would dissolve in a sea of salt.
Pragmatism was the name of the game. The key to survival.
The kitchen needed a good clean and her homework lay
untouched and abandoned in her bag, just like every other night. But if she
neglected it one more time...well, the repercussions would be dire. Especially
where Ms. Buchanan was concerned.
Ten
minutes later, the kettle screeched and Darcy poured herself a well deserved
cup of coffee after searching every last corner for shards of broken porcelain.
Mae and Darcy had a habit of walking around the house in their feet, and after
the twentieth time she sliced her foot open, she realised a thorough clean was
desperately needed.
The
phone rang as Darcy dumped her bag on the table, rummaging around in its depths.
Thanking the distraction, she ran to the phone.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Dense, thunderous silence.
“Hello?”
“Get ready.”
Darcy
froze “Raina?”
Dial tone.
It
couldn’t be Raina, she decided. Just her own wishful thinking. Raina was in
service for another year. There was no contact with family during service. It
made it that much harder when the delegates died.
Darcy
put the phone back on its hanger and tried to stop herself trembling. She had
that eerie feeling that something was wrong, but tried to ignore it. Even
though she generally trusted her gut and this time it wouldn’t stop turning.
When her dinner made an unwelcome appearance on the
kitchen floor, she decided it was time for a run.
After
cleaning up, she raced out the door. The sun was setting, and the greenish
tinge fell across Lexington Avenue. After
the first three nuclear explosions, radiation seeped into the atmosphere and
left an odd green glow across the skyline. The streets were almost deserted, as
per usual, since the habitants’ feared contamination; even if the Alliance had
assured them it was benign.
Darcy
scoffed and began pounding the pavement. But she didn’t care about the
radiation. It was an everyday part of her life; like breathing.
Well, like breathing toxins, but breathing
nonetheless.
Darcy
turned the corner and beat down the street to the hum of the streetlights and
passing cars. But when she heard a sniffling, sobbing sound coming from the
alley up ahead, she slowed. It was Conrad Reeler. He was on her cross-country
team at Second school.
“Conrad?” He jerked up, rubbing his eyes and
flushed. Darcy kept the beat of the street on her toes while Conrad wiped his
eyes dry and his skin raw.
“Hey, Darcy. Practicing?”
“I just needed a distraction,” she shrugged, edging
closer to him. Conrad tensed, and pulled himself straight. “Are you--?”
“Okay?” He scoffed. “Of course I’m not okay. My
little brother is being sent to die, and I’m just meant to sit back and take
it? No, I’m very much not okay.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Darcy stopped
moving and planted her feet.
“Oh,”
“I was asking whether you were coming. I think you
need a distraction too.”
Conrad paused, wiped his face clean and jerked his
hands through his heavily-mussed hair.
“Yeah, I think maybe I do.”
Conrad
and Darcy shuffled down the street, towards the usually abandoned park. At
least there they could talk. At least there they wouldn’t have to act happy. At
least there they could be free.
“So, you want to talk?“ Darcy said, sitting on the rusty
swing at the far side of the rusted fence. Acid rain does nothing for steel.
“Talk.”
Conrad
pulled a hand through his hair, one of his most common ticks, and stood
opposite her, between the roundabout and the see-saw. Darcy waited for him to
gather his thoughts, which seemed like an endless struggle from the expression
on his face.
“Why are you doing this, Darcy?”
“Because, believe it or not, I know what you’re
going through. You aren’t the only one to lose someone.”
“But Raina was older than you.”
“It doesn’t make it hurt any less. Age is just a
number. Family is a lifetime. And it’s hard not to be affected by that.”
Conrad’s
shoulders slumped. “I guess you’re right. It just doesn’t seem...right? He’s
only thirteen.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“But he’s so small. And he has asthma. I see him
coming home from training with bruises and he doesn’t even whimper, doesn’t
even flinch. Every broken bone, every wound and scar—they’re like a badge of honour.”
Conrad shuffles his feet through the gravel, growing angrier with every swipe,
letting it all out. If the ground was a
person, they would have been unconscious and bleeding by now, Darcy
thought, but let him continue. Everyone needs to vent sometimes, and Conrad had
a damn good reason.
“It’s just not fair.”
“I know.”
“But it’s life.”
“But it’s life.” Darcy agreed, and the heavy
gauntlet of truth bore down on them.
“The funny thing is,” Conrad laughed, the humour
long gone and replaced with anger. “Twenty years ago? He would be safe and
sound at home, probably bugging me for a game of basketball. God, if that’s all
it took to keep him here, I’d play basketball till my hands fell off.”
“I know the feeling.” Darcy hung her head, but then
snapped it up. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah,” Conrad smirked “they introduced a new law about
twenty years ago, declaring each family were only allowed to have three
children. Any more were supplementary.
If the number went above three, the cycle would begin again, and the fourth
child would then be the first born. And it is the duty of the first-born to protect and serve. Till death do us
part.” There was no humour in his laugh and he slumped over the roundabout,
grabbing its rusted steel bars between his hands.
“I never knew that.” Darcy let Conrad vent, knowing
from personal experience that someone trying to comfort you was the most
irritating thing in the world. Conrad was like her. When you’re about to lose a
sibling, you just want to be left alone. But the fact that she understood, even
if she said nothing, did nothing, but stayed there, would be enough to make him
realise he wasn’t alone.
When the person closest to you is taken, that’s the
one thing you never want to feel.
Alone.
“That’s the beauty of being kid number three,”
Conrad turned his head and half-smiled. “You’re well versed in legalese.”
“Whereas us second borns are destined for a life of
servitude.”
Conrad
quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t most of you guys end up teaching?”
“Exactly.” Darcy smirked as Conrad laughed.
Conrad
pushed himself off the roundabout, turned and made his way to the swings
sitting next to Darcy.
“Damn these things are small.” He said, wriggling
between the bars. Darcy laughed, pushing herself back and forth, gaining
momentum.
“They aren’t built for your average sixteen year
old, Conrad.”
“Seventeen.” Darcy slowed down and smiled at him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was my birthday last week.”
“Well then, happy birthday.” She said, leaning over
and softly, sweetly, swiftly kissing him on the lips. Conrad’s green eyes
flashed.
“Well, that was unexpected.” He laughed, beginning
to propel himself back and forth, just as Darcy had begun to do again.
“Well, it was that, or buy you an actual present.
And since shaking me for change would be a silent affair, I thought it was the
better option.”
“Well, as long as it makes you feel better.” He
laughed. “Just don’t let Lorie find out.”
Damn,
Lorie, Darcy instantly winced at the thought of Conrad’s
girlfriend finding out about her kissing him. Even if it was purely innocent,
Lorie was a champion kick-boxer, and strangely possessive of her boyfriend.
Darcy shuddered.
“Let’s keep that our little secret, then?” Darcy
propelled herself back and let the swing carry her back forth. All of the fun,
none of the work. Bliss.
They
stayed like that for another two hours, swinging back and forth, letting the
weight of the world slip off each of their shoulders, if only for a moment.
“So how are you feeling?” Darcy asked eventually.
“Better. Worse. Both.” He sighed and jumped of the
swing, landing in a crouch five feet away while his swing swung aimlessly,
lonely after him.
“Yeah. Both.” She agreed. Darcy paused and watched
the sun completely set and nightfall come. She sighed. “I better go.”
“Darcy...?” Conrad called as she pushed open the
rusty gate at the back of the park, deciding on taking the long way home.
“Yeah?”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Not to ask if I was okay? Any other person would
have.”
“I’m not any other person,” she half-smiled.
“I know,” Conrad smiled. Darcy paused, and shook it
off, but couldn’t help but get a niggling feeling in the nape of her neck. She
kept staring at him. Conrad, with his messy blonde hair, kind, but currently
bloodshot green-eyes and the smile that seemed to echo in her mind...
Conrad cleared his throat and Darcy internally
kicked herself. “So how did you know?”
Darcy
stopped, lowered her lashes and answered honestly. “Because, it’s been two
years, and I’m still not okay.”
