greed and wealth | charade

[k!ah]

c l i o.

* * *

"Clio take care of your brother and sister, okay?" A kiss on the forehead, a pat on the back. "You are all they have." She watches as her mother climbs down the cracked steps of their tiny home. Father stands by the small veggie garden they had built together, bags packed in hands as he hurries his wife along.

"Hurry up Margret!" He grumbles his fingers clasping around mothers wrist. "We made a deal. We knew the consequences, knew what we would be giving up!" his voice is quiet, she almost misses it, straining to hear his quickly fading voice. "This is," his voice cuts in and out, "wealth." A frown creases her forehead as he brothers small face appears behind the door frame.

"Where did mum and," a yawns interrupts, his cheeks slightly rosy as he rubs his tired eyes, "dad go?" He reaches up to grab her hand and Clio forces a smile to spread across her lips, picking up her younger brother she places a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"They went out. Mum said she had a very important mission, top secret. She doesn't know when she will get back, but said I am to take very good care of you," she walks them into the the kitchen, it was very small. The appliances old and rusted, but functioning. "How about I warm you some milk and you go back to bed?" She places him on the bench, opening the tiny fridge to pull out the milk and turning on the stove. Jasper watches her work quietly, his eyes drifting towards the door.

"They will be back before you know it," she lies, her gut twisting slightly. She shouldn't lie to him, but she didn't have it in her to tell him the truth. The milk begins to boil and she pours it into a cup, handing it to her brother. "Take that to our bedroom. Get some sleep, okay?" She places him on the ground, gently nudging him to the small room that the three of them shared. He nods, sipping at the milk as he disappears into the darkness. Clio turns her eyes back to the door, her mothers kiss still burning the skin of her brow.

* * *

She wakes heart pounding, gasping for breath. She had tossed and turned all night. Sweat soaked the base of her skull, the worn material of her pyjamas sticking to her skin. Since her parents had departed she had taken the spare room, her brother and sister sleeping in the tiny room next door. Eyes travel to the window, a crack ran up the center, splitting her view in two. Stars littered the night sky, the moon bright and high. Trying to be as quiet as she can she shuffles the window open, her skin kissed with cold air. A sigh escapes her lips, her eyes half closing as she enjoyed the feeling of fresh air against her sweat saturated skin.

She hadn't been sleeping well for weeks, but last night her dreams had been filled with Micah. With his knife against her throat, his words brushed against her ears. Then it would flash to his panicked gaze as he fled, he never looks over his shoulder. Not even once. In her dreams he does, his face blank. No mouth. No eyes, no nose. Just pale skin, smooth. Just the thought causes her skin to crawl, causes the winds cool breeze to feel like ice.

Shaking her head she moves to close the window when she hears it. The gentle thudding of movement. Frowning, she freezes, her body straining to hear more, whilst she fights the urge to back away and bury herself under her covers. Easing closer to the window she peaks out, she could see nothing in the garden. No movement- what was that? She watches as a shadow on the ground moves across the silhouette of her roof. It pauses, looking down at where she stood safely hidden beauty her roof.

Jasper and Charlie.

They were still tucked away in there beds. She couldnt- wouldn't let anything happen to them. Quickly she runs into the kitchen, her fingers close around the handle of a broom. She rushes back to her room, her eyes watching the shadowy figure. "Whose there?" She demands, trying to put as much intimidation into her voice as she can. "Show yourself!"

[charade]

M i c a h .


"I'll fight fatigue I'll fight for you
for everything that we've been through,
I'll take your hand, I'll carry on,
I've been weighed down for far too long. '"

"Can you identify these bodies?”

Those words had ended his childhood. He’d had to grow up fast after that. The turf wars that the many gangs of district nine engaged in always had collateral damage. Crimson or Sparrow, Seraphim or Pride, it didn’t make a difference. They were wolves fighting over the decaying carcass of a once great animal. If you didn’t want to get trampled underfoot, you needed to become a wolf yourself. So he had done his best to do so.

A lone wolf. Well, a wolf in a pack of two.

He had had a hard time, furiously wiping the tears away that first lonely night, Percy clinging onto him in pain and confusion.  Like he was the only thing that still made sense in the fucked up world they lived in. 

Because he was.  

“You and me against the world, buddy. You and me.”

He would not cry again for some time.

***

He’s been watching them for a few weeks now. Nobody has noticed. He’s just another stray with a forgettable face and a pocketful of bad intentions. But he’s noticed. Noticed that she had her own Percy. Two of them. It doesn’t mean anything. Because he can’t feel bad for the three of them. But their parents are dead too, and in their number he can find the significance of three rings.

He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself, because he is a wolf and they are just sheep. He tells himself that he did not start thinking about the other half a dozen people he’s mugged in the last several months. About what they were doing to put food on the table for their families; the food he may prevented them from having.

Because they don’t matter. They can’t matter. All that matters is looking out for Percy. He’d climbed up onto their roof an hour ago, having finally worked up the courage to get this close. The weight in his pocket grows heavier. This was a bad idea.

He steps on a loose shingle, and while it doesn’t detach from the roof, it makes an awfully loud grinding noise, like sandpaper being dragged across a chalkboard. He freezes. A voice calls out. Demanding he show himself. He panics, and slips off the roof. From the bush he then has to extricate himself from, he is thankful that it is a one–story house.

He pops up in front of the window warily, seeing an unwelcome face brandishing a broom. It is probably a good idea to keep his hands where they can be seen. He grips a chain with two fingers as he moved them into view. It she screams, he might have just enough time to get away. The patrols are not as active in this part of town. The gang activity in other parts of nine keep them much busier.

“Uh, Merry Ratmas?” he tries, holding his hands out in a placating manner. The chain hangs loosely from one of his thumbs, the ring on the end dangling back and forth. It is etched with an infinity symbol, though it cannot be seen in the moonlight. He hopes that she cannot see him sweating either.

This was a mistake.

It is definitely not a ring he sold to a pawn shop that he bought back by trading a necklace he stole from someone else.

But he wants her eyes to stop watching him when he sleeps, and this is the only thing he thinks might appease the guilt gnawing at his conscience. Sheep they may be, but he thinks that if someone took Percy’s locket he would stop at nothing to get it back.

He is not the only one with a family, though he has always felt that his is the only one that matters.

elegant

[k!ah]

c l i o.

* * *

A body comes flying off the roof.

It crashes into a bush below her window with a loud thud. Hands tense and instinctively she places the broom between herself and the open window. She didn't know how much use it would be, her ability to wield it like a weapon unknown territory. But if she needed too, she would brandish it like a weapon, protecting her family and herself.

She had made a vow to herself a long time ago that she would never let anything bad happen to Jasper and Charlie. She was all they had left, and them all she had, and she would protect them with her life. She would never let anyone hurt them again, not like how their parents had. She could hardly say it out loud that they left. That they had abandoned them. Pretending that if it was never spoken then time would reverse itself to the moment they left. But it never did. It never will. This was her reality, and she was slowly learning how to live with it.

Charlie was to young to know any better. But Clio could tell that Jasper knew. She often would spot him watching the door. Waiting. Waiting for them to turn up, luggage in hand and pretend that nothing happened. But he knew that they wouldn't. She just never had the heart to put into into words. To shatter any hope that he might be harbouring.

Maybe it was cruel of her to say nothing. Maybe it was because she too harbour the same hope. Hope that they would knock on the door and take responsibility for her and her siblings. To remove that weight and pressure from her tiny shoulders. Sometimes it just felt so heavy that one wrong move and she would be crushed.

A face pops up from the ruins of the bush and instantly she recognises it. Her stomach twists. Her eyes narrowing. Micah. The man who haunts her dreams. The man who had fled tail between his legs. “Uh, Merry Ratmas?” He hold his hands out so that they are visible. One hand is empty, the other dangles a chain, a ring connected. A frown forms on her brow, her eyes watching him and the jewellery that swayed loosely from his thumb closely.

Was this some joke?

How did he know where she lived?

Was he stalking her?

Taking a quick look over she shoulder, to make sure her brother or sister hadn't snuck out of their room, Clio places the broom against the window sill. She quickly climbs out the window, her bare feet poked and prodded by sharp twigs and stones. "What are you doing here? Did you follow me? How do you know where I live?" She should scream. Call for help. Do something. But she doesn't. She stands with her hands crossed against her chest, the night breeze ruffling her dark hair.

She was done running from her nightmares. She would face them head on.

[charade]

M i c a h .


"I'll fight fatigue I'll fight for you
for everything that we've been through,
I'll take your hand, I'll carry on,
I've been weighed down for far too long. '"

He thinks he shouldn’t have come.

In the history of bad ideas, this is definitely near the top. But he had to know. Had to see. That there are others like him. It changes his whole outlook on things. He doesn’t know what to think about it. He has assumed up until this point that he has only mugged people that deserved it. That could handle the loss. He thinks about the fear in her eyes when she saw him on the way to the marketplace. The same fear that had threatened to overwhelm him a few years ago.

Has he become that which he hates? Is he no better than the gangs that tore his family apart? He has a feeling he will not like the answer to that question. He has never killed anyone. Never even used his knife to draw blood. The threat of violence is usually enough to get people to fold in this crime-ridden district. Fear is the only weapon he’s ever used, but does that make him a terrible person?

He has spent a lot of time and energy convincing himself that it does not. She climbs out of the window and he takes a step backwards instinctively. The accusations cut, and it is an unpleasant feeling. He answers all three questions anyway.

“I don’t know, yes, and because I watch people.”

Wow, he thought as he heard the words coming out of his mouth. Maybe he was a creep. This was a mistake. This was why he didn’t talk to anyone other than Percy. “Catch,” he said tossing the ring on the chain towards her. “It should look familiar.” There was something engraved on it. A little infinity symbol. “I just wanted to— “the apology sticks in his throat, comes out through his pores instead. He wipes the sweat on his forehead away with the back of his hand.

One scream and he could be headed to a cell block in the detention center. Percy would be all alone. He can’t let that happen. But that is no longer in his control.

He hasn’t slept since they ran into each other. Him and this girl he desperately wishes he had never met. He has never been forced to face the aftermath of his actions. He hopes he never has to again. He knows that he is a thief. He has to be. But he has never entertained the thought of his choices catching up with him.

“Take it, okay? Take this back and forget I exist. Please.”

elegant

[k!ah]

c l i o.

* * *

"Mum, can you tell me a story?" her voice is quiet, the gentle snores of her brother and sister background noise as her mother takes a seat on the edge of her bed. She smiles down at Clio, running her fingers through her long dark hair. Clio felt the lull of sleep, the rhythmic strokes of her mothers touch tempting her into the arms of slumber. She fights it, wriggling underneath her covers as she wiggles free on her mothers fingers. "Please."

"Pumpkin, it's late. You need to sleep," her voice is low, soothing as she gently pushes Clio to the side, making enough room for her to lay beside her. She warps her arms around Clio, pressing her lips to her cheek for a quick kiss. Clio's eyes draw closed, her mother warmth making her feel safe. Maybe she didn't need to hear a story tonight.

A smile spreads across her lips as she gives in, her body feeling heavy. "I love you, Mum," she breathes as her consciousness drifts away on the sea of dreams that envelop her.

* * * 

She had felt so safe in her mothers arms. Protected from any evil. Any danger. But standing here, arms pressed tightly across her chest, winds laced with an icy chillness biting at her bare skin, she felt vulnerable. Vulnerable and scared. But she had decided she would be brave. That she would not run. She no longer had the luxury of her mothers protection, she had to be her own protection. Her families protection. She couldn't rely on anyone else.

“I don’t know, yes, and because I watch people.”

His answer has her skin crawling. He had been watching her. How much had he seen? What did he know about her? She should be scared now. She should be the one taking a step back, locking herself into the house. But what was the point? He knew where she lived. He had been watching her so he might even know her routine. When was the best time to strike, to end the unease that obviously consumed him, with the knowledge that she knew who he was. What he did.

Catch, he says as he tosses the ring towards Clio. Instinctively she uncrosses her arms, her hand reaching out to the catch the jewellery. After a quick debate she draw her eyes from him and down to the jewellery caught between her fingers. Eyes widening slightly she runs a careful thumb over the small inscription: an infinity symbol. “It should look familiar.” It does.

It was her's.

One of the three rings stolen from her.

The image of the knife pressed to her throat. Her heart beat begins to race, her mouth becoming dry.

Bur despite the situation she found herself wandering why. Why was he here. Why was he returning this ring. Did he feel bad? A frown creases her brow as she turns her detrained gaze towards him. "What the hell-"

“Take it, okay? Take this back and forget I exist. Please.” He pleads. Anger surges through her at the plea. How dare he. How dare he asks her to forget.

"Okay," she laughs taking a step towards him, forgetting all about her fear, about the thought of just how dangerous this boy might be. Right now she was blinded by her anger. "Okay so let me get this right: you steal Fromm me at knife point. Admit that you have been following me. Watching me. And you want me to simply forget? To move on like this never happened?" Her ands find her hips, "you see, that's not something I'm going to be able to do. You traumatised me. You stalked me. And now you're standing outside my window, like a creep, in the middle of the night."

She takes another step forward. "I'm sorry, Micha, but you've made it pretty hard to pretend that you don't exist."

[charade]

M i c a h .


"I'll fight fatigue I'll fight for you
for everything that we've been through,
I'll take your hand, I'll carry on,
I've been weighed down for far too long. '"

She’s right of course. He has only made things worse. Worse still, she is getting closer. There is a glint of anger in her eyes. Micah swallows uncertainly. Drops his gaze to the ground. She owes him nothing, and while once she was at his mercy, he feels as though now he is at hers. He should run. Leave this house behind in the dust, find a new studio apartment for him and Percy to live in.

Somewhere on the other side of the district. By the outskirts even.

If she can’t forget his existence than he will simply have to erase himself. But there is a tingling of annoyance in his gut. Hadn’t he just given her back one of the rings? Did she not understand what pawning it had meant for him? What he was sacrificing, giving it back?

“Okay, I’m a creep. I won’t deny that.” He can’t. It was foolish of him to do it this way. He should have just left the ring under the doormat with a note. “I just wanted to—“


Should he even mention Percy? It might serve to make things even worse than they already are. “People gotta eat alright?” he states it matter of fact. “And if their factory job ain’t paying enough, and they don’t want to get mixed up with a gang, then you gotta do what you gotta do for the people you care about.” He takes a step backward, wary of the fire rising in her eyes.

“It’s a dog eat dog world, and you aren’t part of my pack okay? Silver’s good money and I’m already tapped out on tesserae for this year.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to run away before she sics the peaceekeepers on him. But some part of him wants someone to understand. He’s not like the gangs. He doesn’t hurt people.

He’s not a bad person, he just doesn’t have options.

“Just—take the ring,” he says again. “You won’t see me again; I’ll make sure of it.”

elegant

[k!ah]

c l i o.

* * *

Clio didn't feel quite like herself. She was not used to the way her heart raced, annoyance making her chest puff out. The way she had the urge to punch something, to throw something. She hated the way it feel, the way it made it slightly harder to breathe, the way it made it sound like her heart was beating in her ears, her throat. Her skin felt tight, and fidgety. It didn't feel like it belonged to her. Too hot, surging with emotions that filled her with a strong sense of discomfort.

The feeling of anger was an abnormal feeling for Clio. Usually so calm, quiet and caring. She was always looking for the good in others, even when their actions have caused her grief. That was who she was, who she liked to be. She liked begin quiet, a shadow in a room. Always unnoticed.

But tonight, standing under the moons gentle light, she felt anything but that. She was as bright at the shining moon, causing Micah to scramble further and further away from her. But maybe allowing her anger to blind her was a mistake. Taking a deep breath she tries to sooth the anger that surged around her blood. “I just wanted to—“ he starts, scrambling for the right words.

“People gotta eat alright?”

People gotta eat alright?

She saw red.

Fuck that.

She knew just as much as anyone on this district, struggling to make ends meet, to have food on the table to serve your hungry family. “People gotta eat, right?” she repeats, the anger which had been wanting, flaring up once again. She worked her ass off to make sure that her brother and sister did not have to go to bed hungry. She worked her ass of because no one else was going to do it for them. They were all she had, and she would never let them down.

You gotta do what you gotta do.... Did that mean steal from those who also had nothing? To terrorise those who also were just doing what they got to do for the ones that they love? Never, not once in her life, had she ever thought about pressing a blade to a persons throat, to steal what little they had on them, just so that she could eat. In times of desperation she had consider stealing a loaf of bread, or fruit from an unknowing stall keep... But to violently traumatise someone who might be exactly in her shoes? No. No she could never do that.

...For the people you care about.

The people you care about.

Suddenly she felt her anger slip, her eyes squinting slightly before relaxing. Was he doing this, all of this, for his family? Side eyeing her house she thinks about Jasper and Charlie. Maybe she was never desperate enough, to do the things he has. She tries to put herself in his shoes. Tries to think of if she had lost the house, her job. What would she do then? Would she stoop so low as to rob people at knife point? Her arms fall to her sides, her anger fading with each passing thought. Maybe she had judged too quickly. Forgotten who she was, to look past the bad and see the good.

He begs her to take the ring once again, promising that she would never have to see him again. And despite herself, despite the rage and distrust that had filled her earlier, she believed him.

"I understand- I think," she says quietly, looking down at the ring clasped tightly between her fingers. "I have two younger siblings," maybe it was a mistake to tell him, to let him now her weakness. "our parents walked out on us a couple years ago. Left me to deal with them alone. I work my bloody ass of to gather enough money to put food on the table." She flips the coin over in her hand, once again running a finger along the small symbol engraved into the metal.

She should shut up now, let him walk away. Never see him again.

"I saved for months to afford these rings. To give my brother a gift on his birthday." She looks up from the ring, gaze seeking his. "Then you took them, and I had nothing to give him. No money. Nothing. He was devastated." Her gaze drops. "But. But if you tell me that your reason for taking those rings was worth it... then- then maybe," her teeth catches her lower lip, hand wrapping tightly around the ring.

"Then maybe, maybe, I can forgive you."

[charade]

M i c a h .


"I'll fight fatigue I'll fight for you
for everything that we've been through,
I'll take your hand, I'll carry on,
I've been weighed down for far too long. '"

He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him. Putting him under a microscope, peering into his soul. He likes even less when she starts talking again, the fire in her eyes dimming to embers as she takes a step towards him. She has two younger siblings. He knows this. It’s why he came in the first place. What he didn’t know was that their parents had abandoned them. It irks some primal part of his brain, the part that tells him the lone wolf dies while the pack survives.

How could they do that?

She worked for months to save up for the rings. He looks at the house she’s in and compares it to the dank dark apartment that Percy and him live in. It must be a decent job, paying more than what he makes putting labels on cans. He stole the rings and ruined a birthday. Shame on him for thinking someone who could afford those rings could afford to buy another set to replace the ones he took.

She demands an answer, an explanation. He doesn’t owe her one. But maybe—

Maybe he can sense the truth in her words, the hint of understanding. Perhaps if he speaks he will survive this mistake intact, get to go home instead of the detention center. He looks away, weighing his options. He has a feeling that if he runs now, she will scream. So he looks back at her. He swallows, and then he shrugs.

“Gotta feed me and my little brother all right? Our parents were in the wrong place at the wrong time a while back. Caught in the crossfire of a turf war.” He shrugs again, wishing he knew what to do with his hands. He settles for sticking them in his pockets. “It’s harder some weeks, and I need to make extra that I don’t have.” His mouth twists into a frown. “I don’t need your pity all right? This is district nine. Just take the ring alright? It’s more than most would be willing to give back.”

He starts to walk away, aware of her eyes on his back.

“Goodbye, girl I’ve never met.” He just prays that is the end of it.

elegant