Chapter 3 (The Proposal of Sorts)
I stirred from my dreamless sleep with a start, immediately regretting it as the immense pain shot through my lungs and throat. A groan, that didn't sound at all like my own, escaped my lips. A hand was placed on my shoulder, causing yet another start out of me, which sent another shot of pain to reverberate through my lungs.
"It's alright," A voice I knew too well spoke. Amata came into view, a small smile graced her lips. "Your father asked me to get you once you awoke. He wants you to go to the clinic."
"I'll be fine," I wheezed out, the discomfort obvious.
"Oh, really," Amata scoffed, a mirror hanging from her hand. She placed it in view of me, and the image was a shock, to say the very least.
My usually soft, fair features had been completely erased, replaced with bruised, broken skin, and swelling. I was never a pretty girl, like Amata or Susie, nor had I found myself completely unappealing. I appreciated my looks, as they show my heritage, my lower cheekbones, smaller nose, wide eyes, and stronger jaw was identical to my mother's. The pale complexion, bushier brows, a larger frame with the feminine curves, and thick, wavy hair came from Father's side, though, my mother sported the curves as well, unlike her own mother. The golden red hair and bright, forest green eyes were a mystery, as Father would always say it came from the milk man. Now, my features had been hidden behind swelling around my cheeks and neck. My eyes were hollow and dark from the lack of oxygen. My face was littered with bruises that disappeared down my blouse, which was soiled from the sweat and drool of a long night of struggling for air. The only thing that hadn't changed was my hair, consisting of two messy braids that reached all the way down to the back of my knees.
"I guess I look as bad as I feel," I crocked, the strain incredibly painful.
"Oh," Amata growled, holding the handle of the mirror so tightly her knuckles turned white, "I can't believe him! Attacking you for no reason like that. He's gone too far this time."
"Amata, its fine," I coughed a little, some blood coming up from my raw throat, "I handled him." Amata glared at me, an unbelieving sneer on her lips.
"What exactly did he want? He may be low, but this was a little too rough, even for him."
"Amata, I don't want to talk about it," I choked a little, a lot more blood coming up in my hand as it dripped from my lips like a vampire after his meal. Amata took notice, quickly at my side as she hoisted me up, holding me steady as an excruciating headache pounded in my skull. Another uncontrollable groan escaped my lips, making me feel lucky to have a very stubborn friend.
"Come on," Amata chuckled, almost gloating, "Let's get you to the Clinic."
Slowly, more my fault than Amata's, made our way to the clinic. It wasn't a long trek from my apartment to the clinic, but it was the few shops in between that worried me. We would pass by the grocery store, the pet and feed shop, and the clothing and cloth shop. The last one at the end of the "Women's corner" (as everyone call it due to the nature of each shop) was the barber and hair dresser's shop. As we turned the corner leading out of the residential area into the Women's corner, I could make out the leather jacket, a dim but visible cigarette hanging between his fingers as smoke poured from his mouth like a chimney. I halted mid-stride, causing Amata to jerk back as she stared at me, following my train of sight before locking eyes with Butch as he took his smoke break. He stared back at us, his expression was too hard to see from where we stood, but his body language was more rigid than normal.
"Come on," Amata pulled as she half walked, half dragged me towards the lion's den. I quickly averted my eyes, staring at the ground as we walked. I began counting footsteps, anything to keep from enacting a glance in his direction. As I began to believe that we should have turned the corner towards the clinic and education hall, my eyes betrayed me. I had only hoped to take a quick glance and then revert my eyes, but Butch's expression caught me off guard. What would normally be an angry sneer, was replaced by a remorseful glare in my direction, as though he was beating down on himself for his actions. It was unsettling, to say the least, but it didn't strike pity in me.
'Good,' I thought as I look towards the ground, my fear replaced with a prideful anger. 'This is what he deserves,' but the new shiner on his eye, mixed with the three cuts on his cheek created a pit in my stomach. I hadn't tried to fight back too hard, and the only thing close to fighting was the way I clawed at his jacket. The first thing I thought of was Jonas or Father getting back at him for this, but neither of them would have stopped at one hit, and it clearly wasn't from more than one punch. Also, the gashes weren't from a normal knife, nor a switch blade. It looked like a police baton hit him 3 times, breaking into the skin with uneven cuts. The security had obviously done that to him, seeing as the general public weren't allowed to have any old weapon they came across. It sparked something in me, almost like a mother protecting her young. I stopped in the middle of the path, Amata jerking once again. I crane my head around, Butch's remorse turning to sadness as he stared back. It was only for a brief second, but I felt a rush of acceptance, not forgiveness or regret, before returning towards the clinic, walking on my own as the light footfalls of Amata trailed behind, leaving Butch to his thoughts about the entire endeavor…
~*~ 6 Days Later ~*~
The rest of the week went off without a hitch, though, the extra boost of newly prescribed anti-anxiety had something to do with it. For my "Incident," as the Overseer was calling it, had was swept under the rug with the allowance to use more than my fair share of Stimpaks and other medical tools in exchange for secrecy. It wasn't a complete secret, but to the few that knew the truth would only invoke the wrath of the Overseer if they told anyone about it. Shortly after that, I had been moved into one of the medical wings after the four future midwives were picked, consisting of Christine Kendall, Janice Wilkins, Mr. Brotch's daughter, Laiza Brotch, and Katrine Armstrong; the youngest of the Armstrong sisters. The four were the best choice, as they all worked hard, were very observant, and overall, easy to work with. It was also added by the Overseer that I was to train one of the four to become the primary position once I was on my own maternity leave, which, to the Overseer, would be right after the wedding.
"He wishes," I remarked in my brand new office (well, for me at least), completely amiss to the fact that I had said that out loud.
"Who wishes?" Christine inquired as she read through a medical textbook, along with the other girls, as they learn the basics of just what they had gotten themselves into.
"Oh, nothing. Just a snide comment," I say, hoping she didn't catch on to the worry in my voice. She didn't fight for the answer, which was quite a change from my normal entourage. She normally would dig for the answer, but since she took the job, she was much more cautious. She is very perceptive, just like when we were young, having worked with her on almost every project under the sun during our time in school, due to the fact that alphabetically (which seemed to be the vault's only way to figure out anything, by assigning based solely on our names). It never bothered me, as I was very few things, but if you asked what my best quality is, I would hands down say perceptive. It was one of the reasons I chose her as an associate, and why I was debating on making her my direct partner, and, dare I say it, the woman to deliver my future children. It was a scary concept, to say the very least, but after the marriage, I have two years to get on board, and maybe by then, Butch and I might have patched things up. Maybe we will fall for each other like in those cheesy adult romance books Amata always makes me read, where the arranged marriage brought two circumstantial enemies together, and they end up happy, and have lots and lots of children…
"Yeah right," I say aloud, again, lucky Christine let that remark slip as well.
All of a sudden, the door slid open, the room turning from a quiet work space, to a loud jumble of gasps and incoherent mumbling of curses directed towards the man that stood in the otherwise vacant frame.
"Kid," Jonas stated as he walked into the better lit room, his jumpsuit and lab coat surprisingly in check as his hair was swept back. "We gotta go. Our meeting with the Overseer is in 15 minutes."
"Oh, right." The meeting! I had completely let it slip. The day after my incident, she had tried to fill me in the best she could, but once Butch and I had left, the Overseer didn't speak of our circumstance.
"It was quite strange. I'm so sorry Lilly," Amata had said almost bitterly, the only conclusion being that she was mad about the situation. A lot of people were, which, to be honest, seemed right. A lot of people believed in love, and that the necessity of children came later. There were even events just for people about the same age to meet. Father, though now it seems quite useless, trying to guilt me into going once, as a way to pacify him from using the lack of grandchildren in the future. Butch, and his gang had attended, of course, completely making a mockery of me. After that point, I had never returned, not that I needed to anyway.
As we rounded the corner right before the Overseer's office, Jonas stopped me, his expression vastly different from his normal upbeat attitude, as he sported a stern expression.
"I need to speak to you before we go in," Jonas spoke.
"About what?" I said, a little worn down than normal, as it most likely will be until my death.
"It's about your father." I frowned.
"That he betrayed me? Or maybe the fact that he had been in cahoots with the Overseer SINCE I WAS BORN," I enunciated, a hush silencing me before Jonas looked around for any eavesdroppers.
"Don't put too much blame on him," He said in a hushed voice.
"Why not," I mimicked mockingly.
"Because he was under surveillance, and has been watched as long as he has been working on it," He said impatiently. "They threatened to take you away…"
I felt like I couldn't breathe all of a sudden. 'Taken away?' I thought, understanding now completely. It all made sense, and put a huge strain on my psych.
Jonas took the silence as a clear cut since of realization, as he continued, "Great, now that you know, let's go confront this as a family."
It took some might to walk into the office, half to get it over with, and half from the anti-anxiety. To Jonas' surprise (Not really to me) Butch was nowhere in sight, instead, just his mother, with a small piece of paper clutched tightly in his hands.
"Ah, you decide to grace us with your attendance Ms. Lunah. At least one of you showed up," The Overseer grunted bitterly, shooting a glare towards Ellen. Jonas sat next to Father, leaving the only spot next to Ellen. It seemed that the Overseer knew that Butch wouldn't be here, as there were only 4 chairs, and Jonas was expected by request of me. I gently sat in the chair, staring at anything that isn't another being.
"Ah, well, since it is time for the meeting to be adjourned, I guess we will start." The Overseer boomed as he sat down in his comfy chair. "Now, down to business. I know you didn't get the full ledger of what Butch and you have the pleasure of becoming…"
'He acts like this is going to be wonderful,' I scoff in my head, working very hard not to roll my eyes.
"The two of you have been chosen as the most compatible people with the most diversity in you lineage…"
'Also a lie,' I thought blocking out his ramblings on how our blood was the "perfect" match. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was all a clever ruse. The two of us aren't compatible in the means that he is saying. It is because we are the poorest children in the Vault. On Butch's side, Ellen works one of the more stressful jobs, as she is a checker for the grocery store. As such, she isn't popular with others, and so, she constantly gets complaints, and loses her hard earned money because of it. As for my father, he is known for not taking direct orders from the Overseer. As a way to control the steady use of medical supplies, it was enacted when Alphonse was chosen for Overseer, that everyone, no matter the circumstance, is only aloud three Stimpaks a month, and after three months of use, they are required to be admitted to the health clinic for addiction, and they lose a week of pay, just because of addiction. The fact that that was broken for me, as I needed 9 Stimpaks AND Med-X just to sweep the endeavor under the rug was scandalous in and of itself. It is required that we register every use of healing chems, but Father was notorious of not, so he never gets paid his rightful wage. Furthermore, we only had one parent while we grew up, and as a result (Though I wish not to admit it), Both Butch and I have been set back because of the social status of poverty, which just staked his ducks in a row.
"And as such, for your generous offer to be the Protégé of this new endeavor, I will grant you your desires."
Exactly.
'Use the fact that we don't have anything against us.'
"So, please make sure that it is within reason. I may have many things to offer, but I can't make miracles."
"Bullshit," I say under my breath, thankful that no one heard that.
"What was that?" The Overseer questioned.
"Nothing," My irritation coming out when I snapped back at his accusatory jab. I didn't realize how tired I really was until the meeting, realizing that because of the added medicine, I really hasn't done anything other than work, eat, sleep, repeat.
"Very well," The Overseer rolled his eyes, not liking the tone, "All I need from you three to do is sign this, and we'll move on to discussing the matter of trade."
Dad went to pick up the pen handed to him to sign it, but I quickly nocked it out of his hand, getting a mixed signal from him as he looked at me with a bewilderment.
"We aren't signing anything until a deal is made!" I snapped once more, a ferocity I thought lay dormant coming out like a phoenix out of the ashes. I grab the paper, gaining a bewilderment from all four parties. I quickly scanned the document, coming to the line that said: "All terms will be final at the signing of this document."
"Here," I point, showing the paper to everyone, "He was just going to trick us into signing." Father, Ellen, and Jonas were all furious, as I happily tortured the Overseer with the uncomfortable feeling of getting caught red handed.
"Fine," He said through his teeth, quiet enough not to cause an uproar, "What is it that you want?"
"A few things," I state, glaring right back.
"Be mindful, you won't get to own the Vault."
"How do you seriously think this wedding is going to go?" I ask. "Do you think Butch is going to be on good behavior? He won't like this one bit. Knowing him, he'll come into the reception drunk, if you're lucky, yelling at everyone and not in the slightest bit happy. He is going to make this the most miserable thing for you, you know." I lean in real close for dramatic effect, "You realize your only salvation will be me. I got good at turning him on his head, quiet and blushing. If you don't be careful, I might join him, and then, what future would you have at EVER making this plan of yours work…"
I leaned back, catching Ellen's worried expression for a brief second as she looked down at the paper, a specific line of writing catching my interest for a brief second, before returning to the horrified (and satisfactory) grimace of the Overseer.
"ahh," Alphonse sighed, "very well, go ahead and list them off," he said, grabbing a pencil slowly so I could see what he was writing on.
"Okay," I started, sorting everything that I had in my head, "I would like you to construct a new living space, the size of three regular homes," The Overseer broke the pencil, looking up at me to see I was completely serious.
"You must be joking," He stated.
"Just write it down." I grumble. He grabs a new pencil and we continue, "A large, Jacuzzi tub, and don't try and deny it. I know you own one." He glares at the paper, not even daring to question it anymore, "A record player, with all of Elvis Presley records as well as ones I've never seen before, a large Kitchen (Because whenever I have to share, it's a nightmare) with double sinks and lots of cabinets and storage space, big TVs with all of the channels that we don't have to pay for, Multiple bathrooms, and… two beds…"
"Absolutely not," The Overseer retorts, "How do you expect to conceive children if you don't share the bed." He glares back at me, "Do I need you send you back to health." A slight burn blossoms at my cheeks, as I realize the company I share in the small office. "Is there anything else?" The Overseer asks.
"Yes, sir, I'd like to ask…" Ellen pipes up, only to be shot down by Alphonse.
"I am sorry Ellen, but since Butch refuses to attend, he will lose out on any agreements for his absence."
Ellen is on the verge of tears, as she dips down to hide her tears with her hair. As she loses herself, I glance at the paper before gently pulling it from her to get a better look. The paper was mostly in Butch's handwriting, and the list was quite short, only to amounting to a few thinks. The first two weren't going to be put into consideration, the first being to lengthen the time to have the first, and the second being the separation between each child. I didn't waste time with the rules, because even if we did the worst thing imaginable at the wedding, the Overseer's word is law, and no one, not even we could change what he already decided. No, it was the next two that caused a horrible feeling to ripple through my core, sending shivers down my spine. The writing was definitely not Butch's, as the handwriting was the same as the birthday cards from him in past years, in which Ellen had been the one to write them.
The third one had been to ask Butch to get a reasonable, constant wage, which, as a barber (not a hairdresser), was also in the public eye, and therefore, constantly being changed depending on how people responded, and Butch had made many enemies among the entire Vault. I wasn't the only one he would bully, I was just his favorite.
That left the fourth and final one, which, made me feel so bad for Ellen. It just said: "stop the security force from hurting my son." I wasn't supposed to know, but a couple of years ago, Ellen had to be put on an anti-depressant, because almost every night since Butch was barely 15, he would get brought home either severely beaten, drunk off his ass, or come home completely fine, but have their entire home obliterated because of a random search that wasn't even necessary. Ellen would always go straight for the bottle, and Butch and her would have Suicidal scares up until she got her treatment, but the treatments can only go so far.
I could just imagine him stumbling beaten or drunk every night, bringing havoc home with him.
'There is no other way,' I think, before glaring up at the Overseer.
"No," I grumble, "I have two more requests." Ellen looks over at me catching my eye as she stares back with her tear-filled eyes, sealing the deal right there on the spot, "I want both Butch and I to get a steady wage, with the only change is to go up, not down." I place my hand on Ellen's knee, feeling for her hand before loosening her grip on her leg as I hold it firmly, "Before I continue though, I would like to know that status of Butch's record."
The Overseer stiffens, before he swivels around to his terminal. As he searches for the file, I center my attention to the weeping Ellen, who I pull into a gentle hug, the first in a very long time.
"Ah," The Overseer chirps, drawing our attention to him. "It seems that he is very close to being incarcerated for his crimes," He huffs, quietly saying, "That might conflict with this endeavor."
"May I ask why?" Father questions, the first thing he has said since I got here, Jonas still not saying a word.
"Because," I snap with my free hand at the Overseer to start writing, enjoying every moment of just plain ordering him around, "I would like his slate wiped clean, and to never be tarnished again." An awkward silence befalling the room. I look around the room at all the eyes, save for Ellen, who was still hugging me. "What...? I wish for him to not bring home more trouble, and, dare I say, if we are to have… children together… than I wish for them to have both a grandfather and grandmother," I gently pull out of the embrace to look at Ellen, "If I do this, I want you to stop drinking, okay?"
More tears welled in her eyes as she chocked out, "Yes. Yes I will stop drinking."
"Then it's settled, I have no other requests. Now we're ready to sign the paper…
"
(Butch's POV)
"Don't take forever, Butch," Paul called behind me as I walked out of the Diner, my combat boots echoing over the crowd. He called out again, but just as the door closed behind me, obscuring his voice.
I made my way over to the table with an ashtray the rust bucket, Andy put out pass-aggressively placed after Wally burned a welt into one of the tables. Andy wouldn't serve them for a week, just cus he wanted to throw a fucking tizzy fit over something to goddamn stupid. I felt my temper boil, the cigarette being lit more important before I broke something. It was all because of that god damn nosebleed, what with her not being able to take a bit of horseplay without fucking fainting and getting me in so much god damn trouble. As the smoke filtered through the newly lit cigarette, I remembered the haunting face she gave right before passing out, her fear caused a wet dread to fill my stomach at the sight of her. I heard she had slept fine the last week from Christine, something I envy, after seeing her corpse-like body the next day.
"Lucky her" I mumble through the filter of the cig, almost dropping it at the ring of my Pipboy. Pullin' my right hand up my mother's number shows up on-screen.
'Probably wantin' to talk about the meetin,' I roll my eyes, pressing the green button on the screen with bold letters spelling 'answer' on it.
"Hi Butchie," Ma answers, already making me mad.
"Hey, How many time do I gotta tell ya, don't call me that in public," I grunt, looking around before staring back at the screen with the projection of her and the background. To the side, I can faintly see the outline of a dress 3 sizes too big for the wearer, as well as those nasty, un-kept, red braids that cascaded as long as the dress. Lilly waited at the corner, every once in a while glancing back at Ma.
"Are you even listening?" Ma comments, just before looking around at what I was staring at. She began to grin, "You already starting to like her?"
"No," I growl, "I saw a fat blob and that it was a mutant, but no, just Nosebleed, slinking around…"
"BUTCH," Ma screamed, her expression changed to bad, I don't want to hear it. After what she has done for you."
"What, make it so I don't have to marry her? If that's true, than I guess I have to give her credit…"
"Why are you always such a monster," just then, I stared closely at Ma, who had dark bags under her eyes, and streaks. She had been crying, as she was right now. "How about she just saved you from being incarcerated," she said with fervent anger, something she reserves for more serious situations, or when I wouldn't take her seriously. "I have been taking medicine because of you. Every night I would wonder if I still had a son! Every night I would wonder if you had been put in prison, or worse, that you were dead!" Ma held back tears, but she wouldn't be able to hold it back forever. "Never mind."
"Whatever, She probably had ulterior motives…" But before I could finish, she hung up, the last thing I saw, was Nosebleed touching my mother.
"Ow," I yell, the burnt end of my Cig fell straight down my shirt, burning my chest. I shake it off before walking back into the Diner, Thinking about why she would want me out of the slammer.
"No doubt she is scheming," Again, as for the past of the week, and many weeks to come, Nosebleed is still the only thing on my mind…
Okay, this one actually had some of Butch's perspective in it, as well as some more insight into the things to come. The next chapter will be the next meeting, with just Butch and Lilly, talking more in depth with the wedding planning. Also, there won't be many chapters with Butch's POV, because this is in the perspective of Lilly. Sorry for graphical errors. I plan to go back each five chapters or so to edit them. Also, I have another story I was writing random stuff with the Lone Wanderer and Colonel Autumn. Once I get it finished, ill post it.
Anyway, I'll be back in a month, maybe sooner if I have free time (Doubt it, I have to go to summer school if I want to graduate before I'm 21) anyway, review if you wish, and I'll be back as soon as I can.