Added 9/23/2012
This story is going to jump around between the perspectives of Malles and Jensine. I might come back and rewrite this just because it's not as long or detailed as I'd like. But I'm tired now so screw it.
JENSINE
Lately I have been starting to hate this house.
It was always dark, even during the day. It became that way after Malles went and moved all the furniture to cover up the windows and the door. The only entrance inside was from a hole in the rooftop he had knocked out and attached a trap door to. The door itself was covered with a heavy blanket covered in brush, the same brush that covered the rest of the roof. When Malles was setting it up he said he wanted to make sure no one other than us had the means or motive to come into the house. From outside it looked like a dump, and inside it looked like a fortress. The only real light came from cracks in the walls during the day. We woke up with the sun and went to sleep with it.
More of Malles' rules. Don't go outside without him, and never go out at night. Don't talk to anybody, don't tell anyone where we're staying, what we're doing. Always pull the blanket over the door before closing it. Everything he came up with and swore up and down it was how Papa would have done it. But neither of us really knew what Papa wanted. Because Papa was dead.
Or worse. We were only told he had been killed outside the wall. No one told us how or ever brought a body back –
Don't think about it.
Don't think about how you'd never see him again, don't think about what he'd be like if you did. Don't do that or you'll wind up like Mama. Your children will come back from foraging to find you hanging from your neck from the ceiling rafters. Mama thought about it, Malles said, and that's why Mama decided to…
"Opt out." That's the way Malles had put it. Mama could not handle the stress. That's why she got sick during the winter. Why she never got better. Why Malles began fortifying the house and why he told me to try and stay inside as much as possible. Someone needed to be here to watch the house. To make sure nothing happened to it.
But the dead were outside Hearthglen. They were kept at bay by the new wall and the milita always eliminated the ones that got too close. The zombies could not get in. That was why, at first, I had trouble figuring out what Malles was so worried about. The house was barricaded. Malles had Papa's axe, and he left it with me whenever he went out to get our food delivery. It wasn't until Malles began bringing back extra bags of food and lying to me about them that I figured it out. There were people in town who were just as dangerous as the zombies. People who wanted to steal what we had for themselves.
People like my brother.
A year ago my brother was just some punk always getting into trouble and things he wasn't supposed to. I made fun of him. He dreamed of being a big-shot hero someday like Papa was. It made him smile. He wanted to keep Lordaeron safe from orcs. Now, he was keeping himself and I safe from worse. Instead of orcs, we had undead monster who came from nowhere wanting nothing more than to kill us. To eat us, like the forest trolls. Only, unlike trolls, the undead never got tired. They never stopped chasing you. And they were everywhere. Sometimes at night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go out and climb the wall to look out into the woods and listen for them. The zombies always made noise when they found something to eat. Their moans would echo through the trees as they called their friends to the meal. They would surround their catch and bring it down.
I'd seen it happen. One of the guards patrolling the wall got ambushed and didn't make it back in time. I saw him go down and I watched him get dragged off.
He was weak, Malles had said. Before yelling at me so loud I thought he would hit me. The man was weak, and that was why he was caught. But Malles was strong. I can see that. Malles wanted to protect me. I can see that as well.
But I do think I want Malles protecting me. Not if it means stealing from other people. Letting those people starve and die so we could live. That wasn't right.
Malles had changed. Looking back, I should not have judged him. In less than a night, on the day he became a man, Malles had lost his father in battle against an undead enemy. For all Malles knew, Dad was one of them now. He could have been one of those zombies prowling the forests of Lordaeron right now. Months later, his mother commited suicide. Malles was alone with his sister and had very little means to keep his remaining loved one safe. It scared him. Deeply scared him. Fear and desperation can do things to people. Even good people like my brother. Malles only wanted to be strong, though he would have never admitted it then and probably would not admit it even today. Malles did what he felt needed to be done and made his justifications for it later. All that mattered to him was my survival and his. Nothing else. Nothing.
I should have said something. Maybe, if I had said something sooner, what happened later could have been prevented. Maybe then I could have kept my brother.
But I didn't.
So when Malles dropped from the ceiling with two bags of provisions, I ignored my anger and took one from him. I turned, put it aside, turned back to face him, and stared.
"Hush," he muttered. "It's not that bad."
"Malles, you're entire face is bleeding!"
"I tripped." Another lie. "It's raining, and the street was slippery."
He sat down on the dirt floor and ripped open his bag. He pulled from it a loaf of bread and took a large bite from it. I watched him.
He motioned at the other bag. "Eat, Jen."
"No."
Malles attacked his loaf of bread again. "You need to. We haven't had anything in a few days."
"I'm not hungry."
"Suit yourself." Malles ate about half the loaf and put the rest aside. He stood, stretched, and went back to the trapdoor. "I'm going to wash my face. Be right back."
I reached into his bag of food and looked inside. I saw an apple, grabbed it, and threw it at him. It bounced off the back of his head and broke into pieces on the floor. He whirled around and glared at me, rubbing his head. He almost said something, but he never would. I walked up and slapped him.
"So when were you planning on telling me what really happened?"
I didn't yell. I didn't have the energy anymore. A year had passed since the undead attacked Hearthglen. So much had changed since then. My parents were dead, and my brother might as well be. A rage took me. My hand balled into a fist and I threw it at his face.
Malles reached out, slapped my punch aside, and shoved me. Hard. I toppled backward onto my butt. I curled up into a ball, expecting him to attack me. He was going to hurt me, hurt me like he hurt other people –
"Jensine."
I looked up at him. Malles was holding another apple out to me. His face was still bloody, but expressionless.
"Please just eat."
"No."
Malles looked away for a second. I moved back away from him, but Malles just went over to the far wall and sat back against it. He took a bite of the apple and stared up at the ceiling. I think he was trying to avoid looking at me.
Too bad. "Malles." He ignored me. I continued. "What happened?"
"He fought back."
I got up and went over to him. I plopped down beside him and leaned against his shoulder.
"I pushed him against a wall and took his food. He snuck up on me with a rock and clocked me in the face."
I took the apple from him and began eating it. He let me. His hands were shaking. "But," I whispered, "you made it back. And now we can eat. It's okay."
"No it's not."
"Malles – "
"He kept coming at me." Malles cut me off. "He just kept coming. And then I was down, and he was straddling me, and I panicked, and…" He trailed off.
I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and hugged him close. "Malles. It's fine. You're okay now."
He got quiet for a while. I figured he had calmed down. I continued eating my apple and listened to the rain outside.
"Jen…I killed him."
I looked at him. Malles looked back. His eyes were wet. "I took my knife and I stuck it in him. And I did it again. And I didn't stop until he did."
Oh.
Well, that explained why he was so secretive about his face. But I really had nothing to say to that. What were you supposed to say when you found out your own brother killed somebody over bread and fruit?
"It's okay Malles."
