Hey everyone, I've been working on this AU fic that takes place around the 1920s to the early 1930s. I apologize for any errors in some historical allusions to come but I felt they should be in there for characterization, plot development, etc. Feel free to review and/or message me on any further questions.
The crisp February air blew profusely, picking up unforgotten pieces of paper, discarded feathers and various paraphernalia left by people too busy and too important to pick up a stray classified ad resting in the cracks of the pavement, floating aimlessly on one side while the other was restricted by the strain of the piece of gravel that inhibited it to soar. It was common for rain to be as violent as it was now. Huge pellets bombed the streets, cars, and weary, dilapidated bungalow roof tops. The limbs of the wizened oaks and other saplings, weathered down by age, this rain/hail mix and wind, were susceptible to breaking and many men grew accustom to waking up and seeing their Ford automobile crushed and peeking out from under a petrified tree branch. But for now, everyone on 12th Street Lima, Ohio, was asleep, protected from the outside elements happening in the world around them.
All except for one.
There on the almost always forgotten 12th Street in a worn down bungalow, a light from a poorly made candle burned dully. The movements of the girl, still very much awake, cast a shadow over the light, eliminating it completely. The minuscule flame emulated the phases of the moon in accordance with the girl's movements. Full when she picked up a relic of some sort and other paraphernalia as she decided whether to bring it with her or not. If yes, half when she stood up erect, pondering if it was really worth bringing. Waning to full again as she bent down to put the object—a book— into her worn down trunk.
The trunk with its peeling, murky brown tinted leather and rusting golden, barely flexible clasps had seen many trips in its life. Trips to Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Columbus were frequent due to the patriarch's occupation but they were always fleeting. None would last the duration of time that his daughter would now ensue in the late hours of the winter months.
In the dim light emitting from the candle, one could make out the features of the girl, moving hurriedly. Her pink lips pulled up to one side of her face as she picked up a picture and wondered if it were worth bringing along. Her mouth relaxed as she brought the picture up to her lips and kissed it tenderly, lingering on the faces of her family as if to keep their effigy fresh in her mind when she left. If she left.
She scrunched her pointed nose and placed the picture back on her makeshift nightstand made out of an old crate her younger brother found. The little forager he was. He was able to sustain enough food for himself and not burden his father with an extra mouth to feed.
The girl ran her slim, nimble fingers over the picture one last time, cherishing this moment even if she couldn't come in actual contact with those in the picture. She sighed deeply, exhaling memories that would entice her to stay. Her turquoise eyes flickered in the light with determination. She put the last few clothes into the trunk and attempted to close it. The rusted clasps wouldn't cooperate and resisted any type of movement.
She groaned and placed the weight of her leg on the top of the trunk and pushed down, hoping the trunk will meet her halfway and close now that the cover was closer. But the stubborn clasps refused. The girl shook her head, frustrated, and plopped down on the top, forcing the trunk down and causing the rickety wooden floor panels to shake. The porcelain bowl that was on her nightstand fell off and shattered into a million pieces.
"Oh gosh," She mumbled to herself as she rushed over to the mess and picked up the broken pieces. She didn't know where to put them so she arranged a pile of them on her bed when she heard a small rap at the door. An insignificant gust of wind swept through the room, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Her younger sister peeked her head through the doorway as she rubbed her eyes groggily. The frayed blue mesclun cloth hung from her tiny hand as her little feet carried her to the trunk.
"Elizabeth, go back to bed." The older girl shooed, sitting in front of the broken porcelain bits to prevent her younger sister from seeing it.
"Trunk?" Elizabeth asked, not fully awake to form any complete sentences but the thought was there.
Elizabeth's older sister sighed and tried to formulate some excuse on why the trunk was out. She should just tell the truth. It would be better for her parents to hear the news about her leaving from Elizabeth rather than the letter she was planning on leaving on her bed. "Lizzie, come here." She beckoned.
Elizabeth smiled dopily and placed a hand on her sister's knee. "You okay, Brittany?" She asked, slowly gaining full consciousness.
Brittany licked her chapped lips and feigned a smile. Disappointment mounted in her chest and she closed her eyes and breathed heavily, hoping it would expel all of that negative feeling but it didn't. If she left she would never see Elizabeth grow up and be everything that she hoped she would be. Brittany would never see Elizabeth get her first crush or start wearing heels. The little things is what Brittany cared for most and she would miss them if she got up and left, like she planned on doing.
"I have something to tell you." Brittany finally said, taking Elizabeth's hand in her own. Elizabeth nodded and her eyes grew wider in anticipation. "Do you have a dream?" Brittany asked instead.
Elizabeth furrowed her brow and thought. She dropped her mesclun cloth and ran her fingers through her strawberry blonde curls, nibbling at the corners of her mouth by her sores. Brittany tapped her lightly on the wrist to make her stop. "I want to be a princess." Elizabeth exclaimed, bouncing up and down.
"You already are," Brittany sighed. "No, Lizzie, do you want to do something that no one else knows?"
Elizabeth nodded and started slapping Brittany's leg in excitement, wanting to proclaim her dream for all to hear. "I want to find the mermaid I read about in school."
Brittany giggled and pulled her lips to the side. This wasn't going as well as she wanted it to. "Lizzie, I'm leaving." Brittany exhaled, clamping her eyes shut and braced to hear the muffled tears but none came.
"I know." Elizabeth said. "I found your ticket to Chicago on the nightstand one day."
A sigh of relief passed through Brittany's lips. "Are you okay?" Brittany asked, looking intently in Elizabeth's steel gray eyes.
Elizabeth shrugged and smiled halfheartedly. "You'll come back, won't you?" She whimpered, wiping her nose with the back of her dirtied hand. Brittany nodded, knowing if things didn't work out in Chicago she would be back in Lima. "You'll be the best!" Elizabeth exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Brittany's neck.
Brittany pecked Elizabeth on her forehead and propped her up on her knee.
"I'll write to you but you have to promise you won't show the letters to mother and father. They can't know how I'm doing." Brittany rationalized. Her parents, in their situation, would pilfer any money they could if she managed to do well in Chicago. "Promise?" Brittany extended her right pinky and Elizabeth linked hers to it. They kissed their thumb knuckle and proceeded by crossing their heart with said pinky.
"'Course." Elizabeth smiled. The two hugged and fretted over each other in the diminishing candle light. When it went out, Brittany would leave.
Elizabeth managed to slip herself under the quilt on Brittany's bed, pulling her legs up to her chest to retain body heat. Brittany picked up her broken porcelain pieces and placed them on the nightstand, kissing each one as she recreated the pile she constructed on her bed.
She wasn't ready to leave.
Not now.
Tomorrow.
No, tonight, you silly girl.
I can't. It's late.
That's the point. Come on, do you really want to spend your life in Lima when there's a world outside of this shit hole?
This place is my home.
No it's not. Remember Sandy Potts? Taylor Lane? Bette Moss? Samantha McNealy?
Brittany shuddered at the names of the girls who taunted her as a child because of her ailment. They're stupid girls, Brittany thought.
Were they stupid girls when they made you cry? Brittany's other half reminded. She remembered not too long ago when the girls at her school made up a vicious rumor about her. One that made her only friend, Timothy Dolan, leave her standing on the edge.
Look, you've got a name here. You're the pariah. You can start over in Chicago. Make a name that's not-
"I get it." Brittany interrupted aloud. Elizabeth stirred under the poorly made quilt at the sound of the abruptness in Brittany's voice. Brittany clamped her hand over her mouth as if it were going to somehow silence the words that escaped from her lips. Elizabeth flopped over on her belly, not disrupted.
Brittany smiled longingly at Elizabeth. She could stay if she wanted to but she knew she couldn't. Everyone had their niche and Lima wasn't Brittany's. No matter how much she tried to make it work and conform to Lima's social mores, Brittany was never able to truly fit. She liked to wear her hair right at her shoulders whereas other 'proper' girls wore it long and in intricate hairstyles. She liked to write but girls were only supposed to write compositions for school and letters to friends. She liked to dance, despite her ailment. No, she didn't just like it. She craved it. It was the reason of her existence and in Lima, one couldn't do what one wanted unless it was working in factories. That was why Brittany had to leave. She couldn't be like her mother: married, by twenty—at latest—, to a factory worker with kids and tending to the usual domestic chores while you pine over what you could have done with your youth.
Brittany kissed Elizabeth on the forehead. This is it, she thought. And as if the candlelight worked in tandem with her thoughts, it went out with a small puff of smoke, leaving nothing but the faint aroma of what was being left behind.