A/N: A bit longer than normal. This will sort of be a bunch of drabbles of memories. Hope you all enjoy! I enjoyed writing it, and am really proud about how it turned out.
Warning: These memories take place in the 1700s, back when it was totally normal to beat your children, so this chapter contains child abuse.
Jacklyn Overland Frost stares down into the crib. "Hi little Olivia! Do you know who I am? I'm your big sister, Jacklyn." She looks around. Then she leans in and whispers, "You can call me Jack if you want to. Mama and Papa say that Jack is a boy's name and I shouldn't go by it, but I like it. Only don't call me that in front of them, okay?" She tickles the baby under her chin. Olivia, who has been screaming her lungs out all day, seems plenty happy with letting the older girl talk.
"I was so excited when they told me I would have a baby brother or sister. Most of the kids I play with find me strange, but I know you won't. Or maybe you will, but you won't be mean to me." She thinks for a second. "Well, not all of the other six year olds are mean. But some are. I'll protect you from them though. And you can play with me when no one else will. We'll be best friends, I'm sure of it."
(The rest will be in Jack's POV)
Someone is shaking me. "Jack! Jackie, are you awake?"
"No. Go away," I mutter.
They don't. "Yes you are. Open your eyes!" Finally I crack my eyelids open and look into the face of my four year old sister. "It's late, Ollie. I was sleeping. What do you want?"
She stares up at me with her big brown eyes. "I had a nightmare." She looks close to tears.
I sit up and hug her. "It's okay. You can sleep in my bed if you want. I'm a big kid. Those nightmares won't come after you while I'm here," I tell her confidently, not mentioning the fact that even though I am a whole ten and a half, I still have nightmares of my own once in a while.
My little sister nods and climbs into my bed. She curls up next to me and goes straight to sleep. I let out a sigh. How did she do that? It always takes me hours to fall asleep. Still, I'm not going to tell her that. If I do, she might feel bad about waking me up when she had nightmares. That's not going to happen. I am ten and she is four. It is my job to protect her, and if that means not getting sleep because my little sister is having nightmares, so be it.
Silence. That is the key here. I have to be silent. Luckily for me, that is an art I learned long ago.
I risk taking a peak around the tree that I am using for cover. There. I see my prey approach. Now all I have to do is wait. Patience. Another skill I learned long ago. I'm not so good at that one. But I can handle being patient for a few precious seconds. I'll have to, if I want to succeed.
There it is. The snap of a twig that tells me to ready my ammo. I take aim and wait. Three. Two. One…FIRE!
Bull's eye! My prey freezes, then turns in my direction! "I'll get you for that Jack!" my little sister yells, her face wet from the snowball I just threw. She and her three six year old friends start making their own snowballs.
"You'll have to catch me first!" I call back. While they make their snowballs, I simply use my pile of already made snowballs and hit every one of Ollie's friends. Then, just for fun, I hit Ollie again. Twice.
Okay, maybe it was three or four times.
Needless to say, my little sister was drenched by the time she had her friends gave up on trying to hit me with snowballs. They instead chased me around the woods, trying to tackle me. I simply laugh. None of them are nearly as fast as I am. Even Ollie, who has been chasing me since she was two.
I do have one advantage over her; she has to run in shoes. Shoes that are far too big for her. Why you might ask? Because those where once my shoes. I gave them to her two years ago, when I was ten. She needs a smaller pair, but we don't have the money to buy a second pair, and I won't let her go out bare-foot like I have to. My feet may freeze in the winter, but as long as hers are warm, I'm happy.
"We're going to catch you!" Ollie called gleefully. Her friend Emma came very close to grabbing me, but I threw a snowball at her face and scrambled away. Seeing the three kids trying to corner me, I climbed up a tree and made snowballs from the snow that was clinging onto the branches. They couldn't reach me and I was armed. This was going to be fun.
My hands are red, but it is my back that hurt more. No matter how much pain I feel though, I refuse to cry out. Sure I hate being punished just as much as everyone else my age. Most of us receive the same or similar forms of it. Well, I usually receive harsher punishments then most. But I am glad to be punished this time because I'm not being punished for anything I did; I am being punished for Olivia's crime.
Not that my father know, of course. My parents most likely believe that Ollie is an angel that almost never does anything wrong. That's not exactly true. She does plenty wrong. Perhaps not as much as I did when I was her age, though that isn't saying much. I hold the record for most trouble caused in one year. My record started when I was seven. It hasn't changed.
But Ollie isn't perfect. She makes mistakes, just like the rest of us. Sometimes she is punished for it. I don't always try to stop her from getting her punishment; after all, she does have to learn. But I always take the blame for anything serious, and now that she is eight, I will most likely take more and more. She's old enough to get harsher punishments, not just the minor ones like no supper or doing extra chores. And I will do everything I can to make sure my father never lays a hand on her.
He would do it, I know he would. I've lost count of how many times I've told Olivia to hide under my bed because father was late coming home. When he's late, he's usually drunk. If neither of us were around, he would beat mother, or beat one of us the next day. So I make sure Ollie is hidden and I'm available to hit. It's the only way I know how to protect her.
Some of the men don't like hitting their children. They only do it when their children do something really bad. Others, like my father, do it often, and have no problem with causing their kids pain. The principle at the local school is like that too. I don't go to school, of course. I'm a female. But that doesn't stop him from calling me over when he sees me in town, and bringing out his birch branch. He calls it his discipline stick. I've got scars on my back from that thing. Most boys do too, since the go to his school. Not a lot of girls get the discipline stick, but then again most girls aren't like me.
My eyes are closed, and I don't even let out a whimper as the leather strap snaps across my back. I'm on the ground, curled up in a ball. A strong kick connects with my ribs and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out. He is beating me harder than usual today. Understandable. Smashing a window is serious. I'm just grateful he isn't drunk, otherwise I'd probably be dead.
Finally, he stops. "Clean up this mess. Then finish your chores and go to bed. Outside. No supper tonight." He leaves, and for a a couple of minutes, I just lay there and calm myself. Sleeping outside isn't too harsh and I'm used to going without food for a while. But I ache all over. The very thought of moving hurts. But I have to. If I don't, he will get mad and I'll be in a lot more pain.
Olivia walks in a few minutes after I've begun to clean the glass. She looks ashamed. I quickly cover my face with my hair. I don't want her to see me like this. "You didn't have to tell him it was you that broke the window."
"Well I wasn't about to let you take the beating, now was I? Come on. You can clean up the glass for me. That can be your punishment," I reply. "Just be more careful next time. Glass costs money, and that is one thing that we don't have a lot of."
She looks like she is going to cry. "Mama and Papa thought they might be able to spare some money to buy you shoes. Now they can't, and you have to go out in bare-feet again."
I lean against the leg of our table as Ollie cleans up the rest of the glass. "Look, I can handle the cold. I've been bare-footed for four years. What I'm more worried about is you. I'm going to get married off eventually. If we find a man that has enough money, father will give me to him. I hate the thought of it, but it's true. When that happens, I won't always be around to take the blame when you do something bad. So I need you to promise me that you'll be more careful. Can you do that?"
Tears are spilling out of her eyes. She wipes them away and nods. "You won't get married for a little while though, right?"
"Right. Not for a while. But it will happen."
She tries to hug me but I curl away from her. "Finish cleaning up, okay?"
"Jackie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing!" I snap. "Just do as I say.
My sister isn't an idiot though. She knows something is wrong. Before I can protest, she pulls my hair away from my face. I close my eyes and turn away. But it's too late. She saw the bruises. I hear her gasp. "What did he do?"
"Don't worry about me, Ollie. I'm fine."
"No you're not. You're bleeding."
I pull her close and embrace her. When she touches my back, I wince slightly, but do my best to cover it up. "Ollie, you need to be careful when I'm gone, okay? This was my punishment because a broken window is a big deal. That cannot happen again. When father comes home late, you hide under the bed or sleep outside where he can't see you. If you want to make it up to me, you'll remember this and do it. Understand?"
There are tears in her eyes. She nods and clings onto me. I stroke her hair and deny the tears that threaten to spill out of my eyes. Like always, my sister needs me to be strong.
And like always, I oblige.
'Oh you have got to be kidding me. Is that Andrew Payne bullying my little sister?' As I walk closer, I see exactly that. It disgusts me. The guy is my age. What right does he have picking on a girl that is six years younger than him?
"Leave me alone," I hear Olivia say. She is hiding her fear very well. I'm impressed, though I can see her cowering a bit. Understandably so. Six years is a fairly big age gap, especially for those that are under thirty. Fifteen is far older than nine.
"Oh what are you going to do about it?" he taunts. I see his hand become a fist. Emma and Sarah are standing beside Olivia, but they both are clearly afraid.
"Well, well, well. There are so many things wrong with this picture, I doubt I could count them on one hand. In fact, I'm not even sure if two hands are enough," I casually say, strolling in front of my little sister.
"Get out of the way, Overland," he snaps.
I turn around and face my sister. "You heard the man. Out of the way." I give my sister a small shove. Sure I usually try to be gentle, but sometimes that doesn't work well enough. Then I face Andrew. "Tell me, Payne, are you really such a wimp that you need to go taunt kids in order to feel strong? Those three girls are nine. If you want to be a tough guy, go pick on someone closer in age."
"How about you?" He punches me in the face and I fall onto my back. I must say, I did not see that one coming. Strangely, I feel almost honoured. Women get slapped by their spouses sometimes. Everyone knows it. But getting punched? Most men only do that to other men. They think women are too delicate to take it. So in some twisted way, he's almost flattering me. Still, I'm not the least bit impressed.
The position I land in is good. Being on my back in certainly better than on my stomach. For instance, I am able to kick him where the sun don't shine without much difficulty.
He yelps and backs off. Meanwhile I scramble to my feet and take off running. I'm fairly certain he will leave my sister alone now. After all, she isn't the one that made him cry out like a little girl. So I focus on myself and make a run for it.
Most people would be afraid. My nose is bleeding and I'm fairly certain I will have a black eye tomorrow. Andrew is much larger than me, stronger too. But I'm not like most people. Pain isn't something I can't handle. I don't feel any fear. In fact, all I feel is the thrill.
As I dash across town, only pausing to make a snowball and chuck it at my pursuer, I can see a group of kids that are about Olivia's age watching me. Every one of them cheer me on. I've always gotten along better with younger kids than older kids. I'm great with children but kids my age find me immature. 'I'm not the one that picks fights with nine years olds though.
Still it doesn't matter what they think. When Andrew attempts a swing and my head and almost hits me, I feel a bit of fear appear. I quickly shoo it away. Fear isn't welcome here. I have a crowd watching and I'm much faster and smarter than the guy behind me. It's time to show the kids how to deal with bullies the right way. My way. The way that will most likely cause him to be soaking wet by the end of this, and cause everyone else to laugh. I am not like my father. I don't deal with things violently. My way causes laughter. And so I know it is the best way to go.
My shoulder is wet from Olivia's tears. She cries most nights, and even though she is ten, she still crawls into my bed in order to have a peaceful sleep. Tears stream down my mother's face most days too. None fall from my eyes though. I remain strong for my mother and sister.
The death if my father hit our family hard. Mother said she would remarry soon, but she needed some time still. Ollie doesn't understand why our mother would be wanting to marry another man so soon, but she is young. I understand. Women cannot have jobs like men. Sure, my family can continue on selling wool from the sheep, but a shepherds family doesn't make much money. Father worked in the mines as well to try to make more money. We need a male in our family to find work.
Mother tells me that she will hold off on my marriage. Father was starting to look for a husband for me, but now I'm needed to help out more at home.
I'm a bit surprised that she is taking this so hard. I know for a fact that he hit her too. Maybe that stopped after I was seven. That's when he started hitting me. Maybe she has had nine years of peace where she can think of him as a good man, as long as she blocks out the cries of her oldest daughter.
It's not like she had to do that much anyways. By the time I was ten, I no longer cried out. And I never ever cried out in front of my sister. So I guess she just forgot that it happened.
Now I'm just messing with myself. Of course she knew. How could she not? She never asked what happened when she woke up in the morning and saw me bleeding and bruised. But there wasn't anything she could do about it. I don't feel mad at her. She needed to be okay for Ollie. I'm just surprised that she would be so sad, that's all.
As for me, I feel sadness. Sad that my sister doesn't have a father. Sad that we will have even less money without him. I'm even a bit sad about the loss. When he wasn't beating me, he wasn't that bad of a father. But I also feel a lot of guilt, because part of me is relieved. Relieved that I don't have to worry about him hitting Olivia when she is older. Relieved that I won't get beat again for a little while. Relieved that I won't be married off for at least another year.
It isn't until I realize that part of me is relieved my father is gone, that I finally allow myself to cry.
I groan loudly. This is so heavy! But I won't give up. I promised myself I would do it. And I don't feel like breaking a promise to myself.
Olivia comes outside to see what the fuss is about. "What are you doing, Jacklyn?"
"What does it look like?" I snap. I glare at her for a second. Little runt using my full name. Who does she think she is, my mother? Honestly, everyone else calls me Jackie. Ollie calls me Jack. Why on earth has she insisted on calling me Jacklyn recently? Does this have to do with our father? He died months ago.
"It looks like you're pushing around a giant ball of snow."
This makes me roll my eyes. "Someone give this women a prize. I'm making a snowman, genius." I give her a look. If she really does feel down about our father still, than this might be a perfect opportunity to cheer her up. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
She grins at me. "Someone give this women a prize. Obviously I want to help!"
Laughing, I ruffle her hair. Ah, I taught her well. "Well come on then. Help me push the bottom. I'm planning on making the biggest snowman I've ever made this year."
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"I'll show you. Come on, roll it towards that hill."
We heave and push until we finally manage to get it to the hill. "On the count of three, we're going to push it down the hill. Ready? One...two...three! And let it go!" I shout. We push it down and the ball of snow gets much bigger as it rolls down the hill.
For the first time in what seems like forever, I hear my sister laugh. "Look at it go!" she cheers.
I waste no time starting a second ball of snow. "Come on. It's time to make the rest of it."
I watch my new stepfather closely. He seems like a good man, but one can never be to careful. I'm scared for my sister. Now that I'm seventeen, my stepfather is looking for a husband for me. There will be no one to take her beatings for her if Olivia misbehaves. My father didn't like beating me, but who knows how this man feels about it. I'm worried he will be like the principle. If he has his own discipline stick, I think I may just grab Ollie and go.
But today is a day for celebration. I got new skates from Santa, and Ollie uses my old ones. She has been pestering me for ages about taking her skating. Now I can.
"Be careful," Mother warns.
I laugh as Ollie tugs on my arm. She is so excited. "We will! Race you to the pond!" I challenge my little sister. We both take off.
Naturally, I win that race. Olivia is eleven, she doesn't need me to purposely lose anymore. She doesn't even really mind that I win. She just asks for help with her skates.
Once hers are taken care of, I grab mine to put them on. Before I can though, I hear Olivia gasp. I turn to see what's wrong. The ice under my sister's feet is cracking.
Without a second thought, I race over and throw my crook to the side. I can't reach her though, my weight would break the ice and kill us both.
I do my best to reassure her. "It's okay. It's okay. Don't look down just look at me."
"Jack, I'm scared!" she whimpers.
She's not the only one. "I know, I know. But you're gonna be alright. You're not gonna fall in." I know my mother would slap me for my bad English and remind me that it is going to, not gonna. But I'm too busy think of how to save my sister to worry about my grammar. "We're gonna have a little fun instead."
"No, we're not!"
"Would I trick you?"
"Yes, you always play tricks!" Okay, she has me there. In all seventeen years of my life, there are probably less than a dozen times when I have been totally serious.
"Alright, well not, not this time. I promise. I promise. You're gonna be...you're gonna be fine." I'm doing a really bad job at hiding my panic. I can't seem to stop myself from stuttering. Then I see my shepherds crook lying on a think patch of ice and an idea forms.
"You have to believe in me. You want to play a game? We're gonna play hopscotch! Like we play everyday." Time to put my plan into action. "It's as easy as one..." I pretend to almost fall. "Whoa!" She giggles. That's good. "Two...three!" I land on the thick ice and grab the stick.
"Alright. Now it's your turn. One..." She take a step and gasps as the ice cracks even more. Two..." With the ice cracking that much, I'm not sure if she will make it over to me. I have to do something and fast. Something that will most likely get me killed. I don't care about that. As long as Ollie is safe. "Three!" I lunge forward, hook my sister with the crook and throw her over to where I had just been.
Amazingly, I'm alive. I look at my sister and we both laugh in relief. I'm about to get up and walk over to her when the ice finally gives way. "Whoa!" I yell as I fall into the icy water.
"Jack!" Ollie cries. I try to get to her, but I can't swim and I'm trapped under ice. The water is so cold. My body can barely function because of the shock. After about a minute, my brain gives up from lack of oxygen and I pass out, feeling the life that was once inside me, fade.
Now I'm watching myself. Is that really me? The moon glows down into the pond, and my brown hair turns white. My skin is dead-pale. Yup. That's me alright.
(Normal POV)
Jack gasped as she was pulled out of the memories. Baby Tooth stared at her, expectantly. "Did you see that?" Baby Tooth shook her head. "It was me!" She scooped up the fairy. "I had a family! I had a sister! I loved her, I protected her! I saved her!"
Finally it dawned on her. She looked up. "That's why you chose me. I'm...I'm a Guardian."
It was time to leave this ice valley. "We need to get out of here," she said, placing Baby Tooth on her shoulder. She spotted her staff pieces in the snow and she raced over to them. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed the two halves and tried to smash them together. It wasn't working. She groaned and got to her feet. Jack smashed the halves together again. 'Come on, come on!' To her surprise, a flash of blue light appeared in the middle of her staff and repaired it. Baby Tooth cheered. Jackie grinned and flew out of the hole. It was time to fight, and this time she knew why.