As I was brought out of my cell, the cold wind bit at the back of my neck. I knew that the plan was well thought out, how could we have failed? I remained in the darkness of the cell for several days; pondering and wondering what would become of the rest of my family? What purpose have I served taking up this job?
Mother is dead, murdered so we could make a few more fang each year before my sisters had to buy materials. I took the coin they gave me, I saved each and every bit. Stale breath met my nose as the guard forcefully shoved me; we walked in silence in company force for miles. My feet ached and my heart wept that I had failed. I knew that surely it was to my death I did walk. The air around me hummed with the sounds of birds and insects I had never appreciated so much. I turned to gaze at a raven gnawing out the eye socket of a dead man left to hang.
The Guards spat at me, a kin to them and only miles separated us, yet how they hated me. Their eyes were dark with fury as they cursed at me. One called my mother a pig, even in my bindings I head-butted his nose, that cost me a hand across my face that had my eyes seeing stars. I didn't care, he will bleed for his stupidity. The knife flashed and my ties were cut,
"Leave!" They cried.
"Get out of here wench, we don't want to see you again or you'll hang!"
So I did, I walked, barefoot, freezing and cold to my father. I'm coming father, but to my eyes I did see his face; how he had aged. How his once bright eyes had sunken into his skull. Worry and sorrow how they left him marred with scars. Was this my future? I looked at the men around me, skeletons of their selves their dreams and ambitions left for the need of coin. I knew that many of the eyes that met mine would not survive the week. How we are cursed.
"It's just a job" my father said. Well, it's not worth it I say. I'd rather learn to sew than become a skeleton; living or dead. I resigned my post and turned in my things.
I am coming home.
Father, I wait for you to return from this foolish dream, should you ever find this; know only that I love you. You fight for us when I could not, how weak you must think me; Tears well up in my eyes even now as I know my failure will shame your name.
Your daughter and disappointment;
Costella Bochinsky.
