TRIGGER WARNING: Do not read if you are sensitive to the following: death, abuse, and swearing. Also, I do not own Sisters Grimm; Michael Buckley does.
December 12, 2010
We lost the war against the Scarlet Hand today. They stole the spell to the barrier and they're free now, and they've killed our most powerful witches. I'm just so glad that Daphne didn't join the coven, because they might have taken her too. They've given us one day to grieve and to pack the few belongings that we have, and I have to write in this so that maybe someone can pick it up and save us. We don't know where we're going, but if you're reading this—the Hand is brutal. They will show no mercy.
Nottingham, Heart, and Atticus were all led by Mirror. He said he has plans for us 'foolish humans and traitorous Everafters' with his new power. I don't know what he means by it, but it can't be good.
December 27, 2010
I haven't been able to find time to write in this journal. Daphne, Red, Basil, Mom, Dad, Uncle Jake, and Mr. Canis are nowhere to be seen. I fear that they are dead. Puck is with me in this…camp where the most horrible things happen. The Hand, they kill for sport. They kill their own kind, just for the fun of it. I'm only twelve. I shouldn't be seeing things like this. They abuse all of us. We're prisoners of war, they say. I don't know what happens to prisoners of war.
February 19, 2011
I'm still hoping that someone, someone's still alive and out there. Maybe there's a few, but the Hand is sure to exterminate them soon.
June 30, 2011
I've started giving up hope. Puck doesn't have anything to say on the matter, so I think he agrees with me. If this journal falls into the wrong hands, I could be killed, or worse, tortured. I pray every night that someone will come and liberate us.
August 9, 2012
I'm still holding out. Someday, somewhere, someone will come and help us. We can't all be stupider than the Hand.
The abuse here grows worse every day.
June 12, 2016. Ferryport Landing, NY. 4:45 AM.
By now, Sabrina should really be used to being woken up by a cinderblock to the head.
She'd been taken captive after losing the war against Scarlet Hand at just the tender age of twelve, separated from her brother and two sisters. Six years later, she's still unused to their absence, the maggot-infested food, the hard cots, and the beatings administered to her by her betters, the Scarlet Hand.
"Get up, you worthless shit excuse for a human," Master Toby growls. A blue eye blinks open from a fitful sleep, and she sees the half-spider brandish a familiar gray cinderblock over her head. A dull thud and a slight wave of pain on the top of her head signal the beginning of another long day of toiling in the fields. She's not yet eighteen, and therefore not yet assigned to the more demanding construction work with the adults. "GET UP!"
She mutely rolls out of the way before she can receive another blow, and Master Toby drops the cinderblock on her fingers. Better not say anything and push her luck; the fact that he's only hit her once shows that he's in an unusually good mood. "There's work to be done in the fields and that retarded Andersen's gone and broken her leg. Get, Grimm! Pathetic little bitch, get going already!" He slaps her across the face and goes to awaken the next prisoner in the same manner.
She groans quietly, her sprained ankle flaring with pain. Her face is painfully thin, cheeks sunken in and every part of her skull protruding and sharp. Madam Heart and Master Nottingham have been good enough to give the prisoners a grimy square of glass that's used mainly to pull rotting teeth, but Sabrina uses it to judge how many days closer to death she is. Not that the other prisoners are that much better off; all of them are frighteningly skinny, piles of skin and bones. One day closer to heaven, she thinks dryly.
Breakfast is as gloomy an affair as it always is, tiny portions of thin and tasteless barley gruel being ladled out into unwashed clay bowls. Beast roughly shoves her share towards her, and a worm squiggles in the slop.
"Eat while you can, stupid human," he chuckles nastily. He swats Sabrina in the head and lumbers back to ladling gruel for the next prisoner.
She picks at the stuff moodily, as if stirring it will somehow improve its taste and texture. The rest of the prisoners sit dejectedly by Sabrina. Some wolf down their gruel and eye the others' rations hungrily, but most of them refuse to eat the swill in front of them, despite their aching hunger.
"It won't taste better if you stir it," a voice admonishes her. She turns her head to see Puck, former Crown Prince of Faerie, plunk down with a bowl of gruel on her left. He's got this snarky grin constantly plastered on his face, and that—stupid boy—is why he's a personal target of the Hand, because he's unafraid of their terrorist regime. Almost as if he knows something that they don't. But he's wrong; they're called the Scarlet Hand for a reason. Because they will crush their enemies without hesitation and their blood will stain scarlet on their fingers.
"I like to pretend that it does," Sabrina says listlessly. She flicks her spoon and a chunk of lumpy gray barley goes flying.
"Pretending is useless, you know?"
"Aren't you just a little ray of sunshine today."
He grins, a dimple showing in his left cheek. "Damn right, Grimm." She cracks a smile at his teasing. "Hurry up before Pothead-ham comes back and slaps the shit out of you for not eating." She shakes her head and pushes her bowl of gruel in front of Puck. He lifts her eyebrows at her.
"Not hungry," she mumbles. "And you need it more than me." It was true. Puck, having aged past eighteen, was forced to do construction the mortal way, without modern technology, all while overseers in the Hand watched and punished him.
"You're even skinnier than I am," he protests, sliding the bowl back in front of her. "I can see all of your ribs through that shirt. Eat a spoonful," he wheedles. Sabrina swallows the stuff in the spoon that he puts to her lips with a shudder and a grimace. A rotten taste lingers on her tongue and she obstinately shoves it away.
"Just hold your breath and down it," he says, gulping down his meager ration and Sabrina's. "It doesn't make it better, but it's food and you're never going to see it again."
"You call this food?" He shrugs.
"See you tonight," he calls over his shoulder. She nods silently. The barracks are alphabetized by last name, so Grimm and Goodfellow are put together, along with Greengrass and Graham. He jogs off towards the construction sites, and Sabrina reluctantly scrapes her chair back and heads in the opposite direction for the fields.
It's hot and oppressive in the fields, the heavy scent of ripening manure permeating the already smoky air. Some of the workers are already hard at work, as well as the Hand overseers. Even from fifty yards, Sabrina can see the bloody redness on her fellow prisoners' backs.
She picks up a hoe and starts attacking the dry earth, her wrenched shoulder blades screaming in agony. Every vengeful thought of the Master, or Master Atticus, or Madam Heart and Master Nottingham brings Sabrina to lift up the tool and strike it into the dirt. They languish in the tall mansion separated from the dirty work and rarely make public appearances.
Her mind wanders to her fellow prisoners as she robotically lifts the hoe and slams it into the ground.
Far away are the construction workers, where Puck is. Wooden frames of houses stand with clusters of prisoners by the corners, and some chop wood while others break rocks. It's torturous, laborious work, and the strongest Everafters and humans work side by side there.
Closer by are the forges, where kindly Geppetto and his son, Pinocchio, are confined. They work in the thick and choking smoke, making weapons for the Hand. They've been stripped of their magic—the Hand had gotten hold of and consequently 'disposed of' the Blue Fairy to accomplish that—and only the Master is given magic to handle, not even his lapdogs.
She thinks of the barracks, empty and cold. Snow might be there right now, checking for shirkers hiding curled beneath the beds. She teaches the new recruits for the Hand's army. Six years ago, she would have spat in the face of anyone who told her that she'd be part of the Hand, but after a torture session and a blast of magic…
A whip sings through the air and makes a gash in Sabrina's cheek, successfully jarring her from her daydreams. It's Master Bluebeard, hovering over her with a gleeful smirk on his face. He traces a grimy finger along her chapped and bloody lips.
"You know what happens to little girls here who don't do their work, right sweetheart," he purrs quietly, licking his lips. "They satisfy me. But then I want more. And when I want more, I will always get more." He slaps her rear end and purposefully stomps on her foot, making her wince in pain—holy fucking shit. Broken toes, maybe.
"Remember what happens, darling," he says lowly. "You're a Grimm, so they'll let me do whatever I want with you. And that means that I will be a very happy man."
Her breath catches in her lungs. Master Bluebeard is and always had been one of her least favorite overseers in the Hand. He scares her—God—he scares her so badly, and his very presence makes the hair on her neck stand up and ice cubes drip down her back.
The noon sun scorches overhead and they continue their work without breaking for lunch. She limps in her work, burning muscles and inflamed wounds and the hiss of the whip through the air all simultaneously demanding for Sabrina's attention. Master Bluebeard leaves a slap mark on Sabrina's face, and Master Jack throws her a few looks by the end of the day when the prisoners are given a few chunks of moldy bread with rotten milk for dinner.
She's exhausted and bloody when Puck comes to sit next to her. He cups her chin in his hands and looks at her wounds, gritting his teeth in frustration.
"I could heal you," he whispers, "but they took away my magic."
She shakes her head. "It's bad for me. You can't do that. And besides, your magic would never completely put me right."
"I never said I could put you right," Puck says, grinning. "I doubt anyone can." She socks him in the shoulder lightly.
"All the magic in the world couldn't put one of us right," she says.
"Mmm." He picks up the hunk of bread and tries fruitlessly to tear off a piece with his teeth. "Fuck. I can't even shapeshift to tear this apart."
She shrugs and sips the milk. It's disgusting and she's positive that there's something vile living in the stuff. "Someday, someone's gonna come and free us."
He snorts, a dry and derisive sound. "Right. And I'm Nottingham."
"Master Nottingham," she hisses. "Someone could hear you, idiot."
"Does it look like I give a damn?"
"Not really."
"Exactly." He downs his rotten milk in one gulp and pulls a face. "What's that human phrase you have? I've got nothing left to lose? I used to think that you've got your life to lose, but now I'm just thinking 'fuck it, I want to die'. Better than having to face this place every morning."
"Just don't say it," she snaps. "I don't want to have to watch you get hurt. It's not fun." She cringes as she remembers how two years ago, Puck ran his mouth and got into a lot of hot water with Master Nottingham and was forced to be flogged in front of the entire camp.
He winks. "No need to get all mushy on me, Grimm." She cracks a smile.
They walk back to the barracks together, silent as their footsteps sink into the earth that's been moistened with the blood of the prisoners. They climb into their bunks, whisper a 'good night' to each other, and pray for a few hours of sleep to help them combat tomorrow's hell.
All things considered, she thinks as her wounds throb and rock her to sleep, today was a good day.
A/N: Guess who got attacked by plot bunnies in an elevator! (Me) Anyways...I wanted to experiment with the 'love in wartime' concept and this popped out of my brain. Keep in mind that this is a story about rebellion, so there won't be a lot of really fluffy fluff. I might write some connected 'fluffy' oneshots to go along with this story, so make sure you watch for those!
Thanks for reading, please go follow and favorite this story and leave a review down below! I look forward to and appreciate ALL sorts of feedback, positive or negative. Whether you thought it was great, horrible, mediocre, or have questions about the plot, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
