Cassandra
"Mother, I'm home!" I exclaim as I place my school bag on the ground. I turn my head swiftly to look around for my Mom, half expecting her to come out with freshly baked treats or something. Its been in my nature for as long as I could remember to expect the best of some people, but the worst in others. I don't know, its complicated.
But just like every single day, I walk over to my Mom's bedroom to see her give out a coughing fit. Blood splatters across the sheets, something that was more common than I would like to admit. I keep on thinking that she's going to die, and fear grips my bones, latching on like glue. But she never does, and for that, I will forever be grateful.
"Mother, are you alright?" I ask, the rtorical question echoing through the empty air as she lets out another wheeze. Red blood layers the sheets again and again as she lifts her hand to block me from coming closer.
"I-I don't want to make you sick too." She mumbles as I take out a warm cloth from the bucket sitting by her bed. I don't know what disease she has, or why she even has it to begin with, but apparently, it doesn't hurt that much. Still, it looks painful to be coughing out blood every single day.
"I'm fine, Mother." I tell her and wipe away the dried up blood on her face. I smoothen out the delicate wrinkles on her face and pat her greying brunette hair back. My Mother is beautiful, she always has been and always will be. She has a single picture from when she was a child, an old ID card. Still, with oak wood brown hair, green eye, and soft, delicate features, she was gorgeous.
When she lets out another fit of coughs, spraying more and more blood onto the sheets, I immediately try to wipe it away, but come to no avail. My training flickers inside of my head as I check her table for some medicine. Nobody knows what kind of disease she has, but it doesn't seem contagious. Still, some medicine works, but some only makes it worse. Plus, medicine is expensive now a days, not making it any better for my small, two person family.
"Did you take your pills?" She wheezes as I roll my eyes.
"Yes, I did." I reply. When I was younger, I used to have severely bad heartburn, according to my Mother. The pills worked, and now, I don't have it at all. But despite all my begging to take me off of the daily pills, my Mother refuses and insists on me using them. Precious money wasted, its dwindling down every day.
"Good." She mumbles as her eyes roll to the back of her head. My heart shatters as I continue to feel her pulse. She would just clock out sometimes, for no reason what so ever. I sigh and glance at the bedroom table once again. Lately, its been needles that I've been trying.
I have a good job, better than most people. I'm a fully trained doctor. I finished my apprenticeship at the age of 15, and I finished school when I was 10. I was known as the Stilts Prodigy, and since I have so many patients, my family is getting more and more money. As Reds, me and my Mother might even be able to live well. But there's always the catch.
Sometimes, doctors get drafted into war to help take care of Red soldiers. I'd be happy to help them out, but still, selfishness sometimes gets the better of me. I want to stay home and tend to my Mother, keep her safe and provide her the money we need.
When I realize I'm out of needles, I leave to buy some more. I make the needle liquid, and its from some exotic plants found in the market. I don't really want to go, it being First Friday and all, but when I hear my Mother groan in her sleep, I realize that I have too.
I pick up my cloak to keep me in the shade and begin to make my way though the market, weaving my way through the crowd. One hand clutching my bag full of coins, and the other scrunched into a fist, ready to take a swing to anyone asking for it.
Its hot today, more hot than usual with all the bodies and sweat. A few people recongize me, people who I've operated on in the past. They were sort of scared, having an eighteen year old hold your life in their hands is scary after all, but I'm a professional. Or at least, that's what I'd like to believe.
However, most people don't know me. They're too busy trying to trade and sell and buy.
Once I collect all of my ingrediants, I grin in joy and start walking back home. A sudden cloud wipes over the sun as I put the basket down with my coins and take off my cloak, not needing its shade anymore.
But the very second I do, a foot hits the basket much faster than I can process and a hand scoops up my bag of coins before disappearing in the crowd, a wave of red-brown hair running behind her.
Gasp, plot twists. I know right, I'm so lame.
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Emily :)