We are Broken But not Shattered
Chapter - 000
I remember the day very clearly, when our little village put us all up on stage. In front of each us were black pots—I thought they resembled cauldrons myself—filled to the brim with dihygroden monoxide. Our older siblings came up next to us, bullying and provoking us. I remember my sister—she was so beautiful. I think she always knew because when she came up on stage, she refused to look at me. For a small child, when you didn't look at them, they know something is wrong. She knew something was wrong with me. I think she was young enough to still have her eyes open for the little things that had given me away over the years. But my parents and the village never knew. I think she wanted to keep it that way.
So she tickled me. We would've been okay. My parents and the village would have given a sigh of relief and my dirty little would be something only my sister and I knew. But the spirits damn my cousin. He was good enough at provoking people he could've made a living off of it, if he got off his lazy ass once in a while. He came quickly from behind, his footsteps only creaks. I've never seen a person fly before, but I heard tales about people trying. Well, people don't fly. They fall … hard. My sister was no exception. She was on the ground, crying, holding her broken leg tightly. It was the first time I'd ever seen my sister cry; it was also the last.
I was so mad. My tiny hands curled into fists. I spun around so fast to punch him. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt my sister. My fist never touched his flesh, but he fell all the same. My cousin was dripping wet; no, more like drenched when someone gets out of the pool. He stared at me with wide, terrified, blue eyes. I held my breath as I turned around to see my pot. It was empty, all the water gone. I was trembling. My mother didn't come running to my side. She collapsed into my father's arms, weeping. My father, he never looked at me.
The first time I was on stage decided what kind of life I would live. Now, I'm stage again with two other people. They are like me: banished by the world, hated by the people, and condemned by politicians. We are family because of that, even though I've never met them. The earthebender holds my hand as he begins to cry. I have no more tears to shed for myself; instead I feel a deep pang in my chest. I look up. Instead of pots filled with water, there are three nooses hanging in front of our noses. Soon, the noose is tied around my neck. It feels heavier than I expected it to feel. The executioner reads off the charges, which excites the crowd. And finally, he asks us if we have any final words. The two beside my shake their heads; this is their way of saying no. I open my mouth.
"We are broken but not shattered. And someday, we will no longer be broken. We will be hole once more, and all of you—you will be the broken ones."
There are several people who laugh at my statement, but the fire and earth benders look at me with a dead hope in their eyes.
The ground beneath me is gone, like my life. I focus not on how the noose is suffocating me, but the words I told my daughter. They were the first words I ever spoke to anyone in the camp, and they were the last words I ever spoke to her. I told her I loved her when she was just minutes old.
I try to imagine her now. She'd be nineteen this year and hopefully, attending school today. She'd have the long hair I never had. She'd be curvy with no bones poking through her skin. She'd smile, talk, laugh, and be living a good life. She'd have a lot of friends, get good grades, and go onto higher learning. And I hope she'd be smarter than the people who raised her. I hope she knows that not every bender is monster; that once you take away our bending, we are like everyone else.
We are human.
