Ester Nyll D8 {fin}

[MrMista]

Name: Ester Nyll

Age: 13

Gender: F

District: 8

Life hadn’t been too kind to Ester Nyll. Living day after day with little food to sustain her for her 13 years on Earth had turned her cheeks narrow and her skin pale. Her eyes, a faint, light blue, looked out from her sockets like two glazed crystal orbs. They never looked like they were focusing on a particular thing, rather more like they were constantly looking off into the distance while Ester was deep in thought. Her lips were thin but never chapped. Her dark brown hair streamed down the sides of her face, long and flowing. Perhaps if she’d had more to eat, she would have grown into a beautiful young girl.

As it was, she ended up looking thin and pale, a child in dire need of more to eat. She wasn’t a tall girl, only 4’11”. The only thing she never had to yearn for was warm clothing. Her older siblings, twins aged 20, were more than adept at working a needle and thread. They wove fine shirts, sweaters and hats, which meant freezing to death was not an option. Unfortunately, denim was in short supply, so Ester often wore her jeans until the holes got too big to allow for decency. A warm woolen sweater, usually in orange, her favorite color, was usually her top of choice.

It was lucky for Ester that her older siblings were so skilled at sewing. She wouldn’t be able to bear walking around in rags. Not because it was a sign of poverty. She had accepted that part of her existence long ago, and she knew it was one that was familiar to most of the district’s citizens. No, the problem with rags was that they were so… revealing. She didn’t want the eyes of random people drawing over her for more than necessary. She didn’t need the attention. The girl with the skin of a ghost wanted to live like one, untouched and unnoticed.

When she did interact with people however, Ester made sure to be kind and courteous. She wanted to be nothing like her cruel, abusive parents, the ones who’d tormented her for the first eleven years of her life. She could audibly hear them yelling profanity after profanity whenever she thought about them, so she removed those words from her vocabulary. She knew how bitter they were about the world around them, so she made sure to think positively instead. She remembered the pain of hands smacking her tender cheeks, bringing out twin rivers of tears, so she decided she would never even hurt a fly. If she didn’t, she worried, would she grow up to become her parents? Darkness was genetic, wasn’t it? Which meant she had to try her hardest to keep it from taking over.

Some might say that Ester’s outlook made her weak. She would disagree. She was sensitive, she knew. Whether that was natural or a byproduct of years of abuse she didn’t know, nor did she care. But kindness and sensitivity, an inclination to tear up, did not amount to weakness. Ester hated when people confused the two, and when they thought she couldn’t handle herself. Luckily, Paul and Polly had learned that long ago. Ester’s older siblings were here idols, and she definitely looked up to them, even relished their attention and concern, but that did not mean she enjoyed being babied by them. Though that still would have been a welcome change from the experience that was Ester’s first 11 years of life.

The Nyll family household was rarely quiet, at least not when all of its members were under one roof. Ester’s parents were bitter in their middle age, blaming everyone but themselves for their troubles. They couldn’t very well take their anger out on random passerby, however, so they attacked the only people they had power over, their children. Ester felt bad for Paul and Polly. They had to endure the torment for seven years before Ester was even born. And once Ester was born, it got worse for them. Her birth meant an extra mouth to feed, and the parents’ positions as factory workers didn’t provide much.

When Ester was 8, her mother lost her job, which only worsened the conditions for the rest of the household. Not only did this mean less food, but it meant angrier parents. That’s when Paul and Polly started seriously honing their sewing skills, eager to make themselves self-sufficient. Even at 15, they were able to get the odd job here and there, and for the next 3 years, they tried to offset the loss of their mother’s income. It kept the family from starving, but had some unwanted side effects. The children’s mother never got another job, as she was content to eat a little less if it meant not having to work. That made the father angry, which over time made the mother even more unruly than usual. But with the older siblings almost never home, off working or in school, the brunt of the abuse now fell on little Ester.

Paul and Polly felt terrible, and around the time Ester was 10, she walked in on them having a hushed conversation. At first, they tried to keep her from hearing, but ultimately, they decided to fill her in on what they had planned. “How would you like to leave Mama and Papa behind forever?” asked Paul. “You mean no more abuse?” replied Ester. “Never. Nobody will ever lay a hand on you again,” Polly assured her. “That’d be great. But will Mama and Papa let us go?” wondered Ester. “Now, you just leave that to us. Once we turn 18, they won’t be able to stop us. Just make sure not to tell them.” That was the end of the conversation.

Once her siblings turned 18, Ester grew excited. She knew they’d have a better life soon. She didn’t think about the details, about how the three of them would live all by themselves. She just wanted to be free of the screaming and the pain that accompanied her parents’ presence…

The smell hit her first. Then she saw the black cloud of smoke, followed by the bright orange flames as she drew closer. Her house was gone, her parents with it. As she stood in shock, Paul and Polly approached her to take her away.

Paul and Polly denied any involvement regarding the events of that day. They said they had been working when the fire started, and Ester had no proof that said otherwise. But she just couldn’t shake the feeling they had started the fire. They had always been stronger than her, more rebellious and determined to get away. Besides, it was too convenient. Their birthday had only been a month ago. Why didn’t they just admit it? Maybe they thought it would scare her. The thing is, they were right. No matter how bad their parents were, Paul and Polly were still murderers… If they set the fire. Ester was scared of that possibility; she didn’t want to think of them as killers. Besides, they would never hurt her, she knew. They cared for her too much. So she decided to go along with their story, and in her head, they were nothing but her guardian angels, taking her towards a new future free from her parents’ abuse.

[ghosty]

Ester and the rest of the family seem like an interesting bunch. Can't wait to see where you take them.