A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I am so eager to present these next few chapters. I will say, though, that I wrote these a long time ago. I have edited them recently, but honestly it's more dialogue than I'm used to. Still, a lot of it is really important, so I hope you don't mind! Besides, these chapters are much longer than my normal chapters!

WARNING: Abuse. This warning will be on each of the memory case chapters, so be warned!

Also a quick note for those who might not understand it immediately: the "ethereal watchers" are Cinder and Jack as the "viewers" or "watchers" of the memories. Their reactions are sprinkled throughout the writing for important effect. This is also why the memory chapters will not be confined to a single POV or have clear-cut character switching.

Please read, review, and enjoy! :)


Chapter 28 - Cinder's Memories, Part 1


When the blindness faded away and the lights stopped changing, the scene settled. There were tall trees branching into the sky in numberless directions and birds hopping from limb to limb, chirping gleefully. Natural was abundant, the animals and the faded wintergreens coexisting without the corruptness of modern man. A clearing in the woods below revealed a few houses that surrounded a communal campfire that was burning low. The houses were made with logs, simply cut from what was on hand. Everything was made from nature through man, and harmony was omnipresent. It was early morning, but many were up and about, children and adults, busying themselves with whatever work or play that was set out for them that day.

A girl with shiny red hair, around ten years of age, was carrying an empty metal pail that was much bigger than her, bouncing with each step she took. She was humming absentmindedly with a neutral face that was content to only look at the dirt. The ethereal watchers immediately recognized her. Sighing, she set the pail down next to the town's well and began to push the lever down that would pump water into the pail. It took her a few tries, but the water finally began to flow. The lever rested a little taller than she was, so she had to jump and weigh herself down in order to get it to move. It was comical, especially according to some kids nearby.

"Hey, you look like you need help. Let me see that pump," a hand pushed the girl out of the way and she fell off the stand. She landed face-first in the dirt and let out a small cry.

"You gotta do it like this, weakling," the boy taunted her and began to wildly pump the water into the bucket. The girl looked like she wasn't sure if she wanted his help. The boy had blond hair, which was fairly rare in the village. Only one family sported the golden locks. Because of that, he prided himself on being the most handsome boy around. But for a similar rarity, he considered the redhead vastly different. Pretty soon, the bucket was overflowing, but the boy showed no sign of stopping.

"Stop!" the girl's voice cried. "It's full! It's full! I can't carry it like that!" In that moment, she appeared smaller than she actually was. And far more frail.

The boy stopped pumping suddenly. The girl smiled, believing she had stood up for herself. Instead, the boy turned to her and shoved her down again. This time, she landed with her back hitting a tree root that stuck out of the ground. She yelped and curled over in pain.

"I don't wanna hear a girl talking to me like that," the boy sneered, "especially a witch like you!"

"I'm not a witch," the girl whimpered feebly. "That hurt, Jasper!"

"Shut up, Verity," the boy named Jasper sneered devilishly. "Witches have red hair, and so do you. That makes you a witch. I'm surprised we haven't burned you yet!" He laughed and kicked her in the stomach. Verity let out another cry and hugged her knees. Why couldn't anyone ever be nice to her? "Come on, you're a witch. Shoot me down with magic if you can!" he jaunted as he kicked her again. Repetition of awful action did not dictate the ability to mentally shield oneself. It hurt the first time, the second, the third, and the hundredth time, never getting any easier. Verity wondered why none of the adults were coming to help her. Perhaps they were all too busy. They were always too busy. The girl doubted that they would ever not be busy when it came to her safety. It was cruelly unfair. She was about to let the bullying continue when she heard a different voice behind her.

"Quit it, Jasper. She didn't do anything to you," the voice warned. Verity looked up to see a boy with brown hair and brown eyes glaring at Jasper. The ethereal watchers' breaths hitched. "Go do something else, why don't you?"

Jasper sneered. "Why don't you actually do some work around here, Jackson? We can't all have fun forever."

Jackson furrowed his brows but didn't say anything. There was a frightening tension in the air that prevented Verity from moving. She felt her throat close up the longer that nothing happened. Jasper's face was reddening in anger, his fists shaking in frustration. Finally, he tore his eyes away first and stomped off. Jackson's features relaxed as he walked in front of Verity and held out his hands. "Do you want some help?"

His face was genuinely concerned, but she didn't take his offer. Verity stayed on the ground, hopeless. "He'll just come back with his friends next time. I can't just run away from all of them!" She cried indignantly.

Jackson leaned down and took her hands anyway, helping her up carefully. "No, but it's okay because I'll stop them." His smile was supposed to be reassuring.

Verity shook her head and took her hands away. This boy was too confident for his own good. She wasn't worth anyone's kindness. "You don't wanna help me, I'm just a freak."

Jackson smirked. "I don't mind," Verity frowned because he was admitting that she was freakish, "I like your hair and I don't think you're a witch. You're too timid to be a witch! Witches are all scary, old, and ugly."

The joke made her laugh despite the kicks to her side. Her ribs hurt with little provocation and she was afraid there would be more bruises to have to tend. Just what she wanted. "Thank you... Jackson, was it?"

"Mhm," Jackson nodded, "but you can call me Jack. And what's yours?"

"Verity," the redhead said softly. No one ever asked for her name. For the most part, she was so infamous that everyone already knew anyway. Was this boy really from around here? Perhaps he was from a nearby settlement, visiting with his family for supplies. Of course they wouldn't know of her if that were the case. Was he maybe related to Jasper? Verity looked him over a few times, still uneasy.

"I can help carry the water bucket," Jack offered, already grabbing the handle.

"No, no, I've got it!" She said quickly as she darted around him and took the bucket from him. But it was heavier than she expected it to be, and it hardly budged. Stupid bucket...

Jack laughed at her failed attempt. "No, really, I'll help carry it." He reached for the pail. Verity thought about swatting his hand away, stubborn as she was, but decided against it. How else was she supposed to get the thing back to her house? In the past, she always ended up taking several trips, and losing much water in the process.

"Thanks," Verity fumed with embarrassment, letting go and crossing her arms with a pout.

"No problem," Jack grunted as he lifted the bucket. "Just tell me where to go."

Verity peered warily toward the forlorn cabin across the way. It was always so dark, even in the day time. She shivered, partially from a memory and partially from the current weather. Winter had settled in harshly this year, much to her chagrin. "The farthest house on the left from the clearing," she muttered.

They began walking together toward the house. With each step, Verity's anxieties heightened. This boy had come far enough, right? Was he going to dump it now? She kept expecting the boy to be a secret accomplice of Jasper's, but Jack was content with the task he had been given. "I live right next to the pond," Jack added nonchalantly. "It's a nice place to ice skate, if you want to sometime."

"Cool," Verity kept her head down. She didn't want Jack to associate with her out of fear of the townspeople's judgments. Many voiced their feelings about Verity before she even knew any of them. Her red hair put off everyone's mood, but she wasn't confident in the reason why. Sure, her hair was weird and rare and no one else had ever seen it, but she didn't think it justified her as a witch. The hair certainly didn't make her feel like she had magical powers.

They reached her house in silence and Jack set the bucket down. He was about to open the door when Verity shot out her hand and stopped him. Without making a sound, she shook her head at him and motioned him to leave. "Thank you," she whispered.

Jack looked confused, but he didn't question it. He vaguely knew about this house, but because it was on the other side of the village he didn't hear much about them. He remembered that the wife had died sometime ago, but he didn't remember how. Waving and smiling to Verity, he walked off toward his own house. His mother would probably want him home soon. She was pregnant and couldn't handle a lot of the things that needed to be done without him or his father there. Jack couldn't wait to have a sibling of his own. He'd seen so many other families have upwards of four to eight kids, and he wished his family could grow that big. He'd take care of all of them; show them how to have fun and live life. But he was ten years old when his parents finally decided a second kid would be beneficial. Jack didn't particularly care about all of the details; he just wanted someone to play with.

When Jack was out of sight, Verity quietly opened the door and slid the heavy bucket inside. The sunlight that drifted in settled onto the dusty tables and dirty dishes and it made her sick. Closing the door, she moved the bucket toward the table below the window on the adjacent wall. All of the water would be for washing this place later today. Verity wasn't sure why she bothered; it was just going to get destroyed again. From the other side of the cabin she heard a deep grumble.

"Ye got the water?" A guttural voice jarred her hearing.

"Yes, Pa," Verity whispered.

"'Bout damn time, ye li'l wench," a man stood up from a bed that faced the door. He was a tall and burly man with dark, dark hair and darker eyes, a scraggly beard and moustache in addition. His face was set in a permanent drunken sneer, and his personality matched. "Git yerself to work an' clean dis place, it's filthy," he spat in a corner.

"Yes, Pa," Verity nodded curtly. Normal rounds at the Walker house.

"'Yes, sir,' from ye," the man corrected her.

"I'm sorry," Verity apologized. Then she felt a thump on her head. He had smacked her with a piece of kindling before tossing it in the fireplace next to the basin. The fireplace was the only part of the house that really got constant use. The rest were just constantly cleaned.

"Try it again," he warned her.

"I'm sorry, sir," Verity corrected herself fearfully. She wanted out of the house as soon as she could. She always felt that way. As soon as her foot set in the doorway each time every day, she wished to leave immediately. This time was no different.

"That's mo' like it," he scratched his stomach and belched. Staring around clueless for a moment, he looked at the nonexistent fire in the fireplace. The cogs were turning slowly and sloppily in his mind. "I don' want ye startin' dis fire, so don' touch it."

"I wasn't going to," Verity snapped back before she realized what she did. Wincing preemptively, she knew what punishment she would get.

He smacked her upside the head instantly. "Shut yer mouth, wench. Git to work. Now."

"Yes, sir," she whimpered and took the laundry in a separate bucket and poured a little of the water she had brought back in it. Picking it up as best she could, she ran out of the house before he could say another word to her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, she let the tears flow freely. At ten years old, she was doing all of the housework while her father slept and drank all hours, day and night. It hadn't always been that way, she'd been told. He had been a loyal and kind man of the village, and his wife had been the best seamstress in the town. When she became pregnant, everyone was ecstatic to meet the little one when the time came, and they all thought it was going to be the most beautiful baby. But then Verity's mother died in childbirth, leaving Verity, a newborn, in the hands of a distraught father. All was well until they saw Verity's hair color grow in. The seemingly unnatural orange glow that flowed from her little head worried many of the village people. They believed she was a demon who killed her mother in order to be born into the world. Her father denied it for a long time and she was allowed to live. But then he began to drink more and more, and he convinced her that for his kindness, she must do all of the work because that is her duty to him and as a growing woman. At first, she went along with it. But even now, at ten years old, she couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. An ethereal watcher felt so overwhelmed that the viewing was paused momentarily. The other ethereal watcher reassured the first and the memories continued to unravel.

It was like this every day. Sometimes it was worse, other times it was almost okay. Almost. Verity didn't look forward to a whole lot except the end of the day when she could grab a blanket and curl up on the floor next to the fire. Sometimes, if she was sneaky enough, she could grab a grubby pillow from her father's bed and use that instead of a dirt pile. Then every morning, in order to get the dirt and grime out of her hair, she went to the river and rinsed it. Everything that she could do for herself, she had to do when he couldn't watch her. If he saw her so much as attempting to clean her face or wash her hands, he would grovel on and on about her ungratefulness. Even when he was completely drunk and wasted, he would still call her out for being a selfish witch. That's where many of the other village kids, including Jasper, got the idea to call her names and pick on her. They didn't have real reasons other than their own unhappiness with their own lives, Verity tried to tell herself. However, it wasn't very convincing.

Well, Jack didn't pick on her, but Verity wasn't sure if he just didn't know of the situation because he lived outside the village or because he didn't care. She hardly ever saw the boy around; she often heard him playing with many of the younger children out in the woods or on the pond if it was frozen enough. Verity never got to play because she could never get away from her father. Any sense of fun and he would rattle dangerously about the inconsiderate youth. There were days, if her father had passed out or was out of the house temporarily (which was a rarity), where she would look out the greasy window and yearn to travel beyond the pump and brewery (she often bartered for her father's whiskey in his stead). The tiny pond wasn't far, but to Verity it would be the adventure to end all adventures.


One day, it was mid morning and her father hadn't woken up yet. Verity figured he had drunk a little too much, which was hard to do for the alcoholic, and was hopefully so hung-over that he wouldn't wake up until the afternoon. It gave her time to clean up the place extra well so that he may not complain when he became semi-conscious. She thought that she might even get extra food on her meager plate that night. Most nights, she didn't get more than a slice of stale bread or a glass of murky, used water. Occasionally, he would give her some small piece of fruit or a tiny strip of venison as praise for doing her work. Verity couldn't understand where her father was hoarding the more nutritional foods, but she knew better than to question him. Besides, being given even mediocre food by her father happened so seldomly that Verity rarely kept her hopes up.

Then there was a knock on the door. It surprised Verity so much that she almost dropped the only glass cup they had. If that had shattered, she was fearful about what her father would have done. She didn't want to think too hard about it. She walked up to the door and opened it wide enough for her eye to see through. Opening the door for anyone other than her father usually ended in name-calling or worse. Never as bad as when it actually was her father, but still scarring.

"Hello?" she asked in a small voice. Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to filter out the bright sunlight.

"Hey, is that you, Verity?" A boy with brown hair stood a respectable distance from the door. Jack? "I haven't seen you around. Do you wanna come and play today?" His bright smile made Verity smile back instantly, before she remembered her situation.

"I can't, sorry," she said curtly.

"Why not?" Jack seemed perplexed. "Is your dad─?"

"He said I have to stay here and clean," she interrupted quickly. If her dad caught her talking to anyone, especially a boy... she didn't want to know what would happen. The sooner that she could get this boy to leave would be the better.

Jack frowned. "Well I'll come back in a little bit and see if you're done then," he was about to turn away when Verity opened the door wider.

"Wait," she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to turn away the first person to treat her as someone worth talking to. Just one friend; was that too much to ask for? "I think it's clean enough for now, I can always come back later."

"That's the spirit," Jack cheered up as he grabbed Verity's hand and tore her away from her house. For the first time ever, Verity had real hope. "Everybody needs to have a little fun!"

Jack took her across the village and through the riverside path in the woods that led to the pond, never letting go of her hand. He hadn't even given her time to put on shoes, and her bare feet were turning red as they ran through the snow. Verity worried for a small moment that perhaps she had befriended the crazy person of the village, but his reassuring smile passed her way several times and she knew he was just excited to have someone to play games with. He probably didn't hang out with many kids his age. Jack's smile was infectious, however, and she soon found herself smiling and laughing the same way. Then Verity noticed that Jack was wearing only a long sleeve shirt and a vest for warmth, and she questioned his sanity again. Was this boy immune to the cold?

When they reached the pond however, he turned to her with that smile again. "Wait here, I'm gonna go get the skates."

"Skates?" Verity asked timidly. After all of the daydreaming and planning, she realized that she didn't know how to skate.

"For the pond, silly," he clarified as he ruffled her hair. "Don't go on the pond until I get back, okay?" You don't have to worry about that, Verity thought with a quick downward smirk. The girl nodded and sat down. She pleated her faded and frayed dress and folded her hands waiting patiently. Jack ran toward a cabin that she just now saw down the side of the pond. That must be his house, she thought. Verity let out a long, slow breath. Her heartbeat was racing and it was hard to keep it under control. She was farther from the house than she had ever been which may have seemed sad to most people. But she wasn't liked very much, so the more out of the way she stayed, the more people were neutral toward her at best. She smiled to herself, proud that she had done something for herself for once, instead of always taking care of her alcoholic father. She knew if she didn't get back before he awoke that she would be in a world of trouble, but at the current moment she could not care less.

Jack came back with a pair of skates slung over his back and another pair held out in his other hand. He now had a large cloak on, and it was much too big for him. Verity giggled at his goofy appearance and took the skates offered, only to realize that she wasn't sure how to put them on or tie them. Some planner she was. The girl waited until Jack put his skates on, and then waved them in front of him to exaggerate her ignorance. He laughed and helped her put them on, then helped her stand on the ice. Jack made it all look so easy, but Verity wavered and slipped and nearly fell. The only reason that she didn't fall completely was because Jack caught her. She blushed from embarrassment and tried to push him away only to nearly fall again. When she was finally steady, he gave her a push on the back and she was sailing for the middle of the pond. The blades wobbled at first, but then she straightened them out and felt a certain amount of traction enter under her control. Her pure delight shone on her face and she turned her head to smile widely at Jack. He smiled back at first, but then his face changed.

"Wait, stop, Verity! You're going to hit─"

But it was too late, Verity's skates hit the rock that jutted out from the middle of the pond and she fell forward onto it. Thankfully she had put her hands up instinctively, but her arms did not appreciate it. They were a little scratched, but she shook it off and tried to stand back up. Her skates slipped out from under her and she was about to fall backward on her backside when Jack caught her arm and pulled her up again. Okay, so she wasn't the greatest. But she could get better. Verity was determined, in fact, to get much better.

"I should've taught you how to stop, too," Jack let out a short laugh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It was just a little scratch," Verity showed him the underside of the arm he was still holding.

Jack frowned slightly but didn't say anything. His face changed back to its cheerful disposition and he swung her back out toward the middle. This time, he taught her how to stop on the ice, since skates were different from feet and the ice could break if she fell hard enough. Verity didn't like the sound of that, but Jack assured her that it was alright with him around; he wouldn't let her fall. She nodded, not completely sure if she believed in him, but she took the chance anyway. After a few minutes, Verity had gotten the hang of it and was already trying jumps and tricks, and circles on one foot or the other. When Verity was determined, almost anything could happen. Her grace became her, and Jack smiled in awe. It was a shame she didn't come out to play more often, but Jack promised himself he'd make sure she could have more opportunities to do so.

A few hours passed and eventually Verity began to teach Jack how she was doing some of the tricks she had made up. As many times as Jack tried, he couldn't get them all right. The ethereal watchers were placing bets on the first one to fall. On one of the more difficult procedures, he skated over the edge of his large cloak and tripped, falling backward on the ice. There was a stunned silence for a few seconds, both of them listening to the ice crackling. Fear crawled all over Verity's skin. Was the pond's ice going to break through? Jack stood skillfully.

"I think that'll be enough skating for the day," Jack concluded awkwardly. "Do you wanna come to my house? My mom could make you something warm to drink."

Verity's eyes softened at the kindness, but then she realized something. "How much time has passed?"

"It's probably a little ways into the afternoon," Jack guessed.

Oh no, she thought fearfully. "I have to go home now, my father is probably waiting for me," she said as she skated to the edge of the pond and ripped off the skates. She looked around for shoes when she remembered that she didn't wear any when she left. "I'm sorry!" she called as she ran off, leaving Jack alone at the pond, still standing in his skates. He stared after her, confused and a little disappointed.


The next morning, there was another knock on Verity's door. She awoke on the floor without a blanket, and the fire had gone out. Swearing to herself, she threw some sticks and quickly stroked a leftover piece of flint until a spark caught. Her father would blame her for letting the fire go out, even if she wasn't allowed to touch it. He was not the brightest man. There was the knock again. She walked up to the door and eased it open like the first day, still wary.

"Hey, Verity!" Jack's cheerful voice was misplaced in the current context. "Wanna play?"

Verity almost opened the door, but realized that it was probably a bad idea. "I can't today. My father was awake when I got home yesterday and he wasn't too happy." He wasn't happy at all.

"Well, can't you come out for a little bit?"

Verity wanted so badly to say yes. There must be a way. She disappeared into the cabin and brought back the metal bucket. "I do have to refill this today. Do you want to help me?"

Jack beamed at her cleverness and held out his hand for the water bucket. Verity handed him the pail and their fingers brushed in passing. Verity couldn't get over the fact that a human's touch could be so neutral that she considered it kind. Silently, they walked a few paces before Verity started to rub her arm carefully. It itched, but she knew that if she scratched it, it would bring more pain than relief. Jack pretended not to take notice, but he had it in his mind that he would ask her about it. When they got to the pump, Jack set it down and looked up to see that Verity was trying to pump the water herself. She just doesn't quit, does she? He smirked. Her ill-fitting sleeves slid downward, revealing her arms.

That's when he saw it. The long burn marks that raked her right arm, from the wrist to the elbow at least. When she saw that he was staring, Verity immediately let go of the pump and slid her sleeves down protectively. One ethereal watcher felt their arm absentmindedly while the other sympathized all too well.

"Could you pump this for me, please?" Verity glanced at the pump and waited. Her mind raced. He'd seen. What would he think? She had to come up with something.

"What were those?" Jack pointed to her arm, ignoring her request.

"Oh, these?" Verity looked down sheepishly. "I was being clumsy when I was restocking the fire and burned myself on a stick that was poking too far out." Please believe me...

"And you did that ten times?" Jack asked skeptically, counting how many scratches ran up her arm.

Verity blinked but didn't answer him. Coming up with a better lie was close to impossible. Instead she pointed feebly to the pump and set the pail closer to the spout. Taking the gesture as the end of the conversation, Jack helped pump the water. When it was full, he carried it for her on the way back to the house. Verity was trailing behind rather than walking beside him. There was something off about this girl.

Someone pushed Verity in the back, which made her bump into Jack, who managed only to spill a little of the water. When he turned around to ask her what was going on, he saw that she was being held by the back of her dress, strung up to the point that her feet were barely touching the ground. Verity's collar was putting pressure against her throat and she was clawing wildly at the buttons, desperately trying to breathe. Jasper grinned in devilish delight with several of his friends beside him.

"Look who the witch made friends with!" his friends jeered in addition, pulling at her hair. Verity screamed in irritated agony.

"Hey!" Verity kicked and flailed her arms in vain. "Let me go!"

Jack set down the water bucket and turned to them. "Don't you have something better to do, Jasper?"

"Friends of witches may as well be witches, too," Jasper sneered and spat on the ground in front of Jack's bare feet. It was deeply disgraceful, but what was to be done after the fact? Jack furrowed his brows but he didn't step back. He knew that that was what Jasper wanted.

"Let her go," Jack's voice lowered.

"Or what," one of Jasper's friends joined in, "you'll ask to play hide-and-seek? Get out of this, kid. It doesn't concern you." Jasper was the same age as Jack, so referring to him as kid was deeply upsetting to the latter boy.

Jack was about to say something when Jasper let out a surprised yelp of pain. Jack's eyes darted rapidly to Verity, who was biting Jasper's free hand. Jasper let go of her dress and let her drop to the ground. Still, Verity didn't let go. Her teeth sank into his skin and she shook her head vigorously. If Verity wanted to be violent, she was going to be violent. When he began to bleed and cry, she stood up and ran, taking Jack's hand.

"Let's get out of here!" Verity yelled, feet already digging into the ground to pull the boy along with her. Adrenaline was pumping in her veins, allowing her to tug Jack a few feet reluctantly before he followed suit.

"What about the water?" Jack panted as they bolted.

"Leave it be. I'll just have to get more later," Verity wrote it off. Jack was astounded by Verity's sudden outburst. It didn't seem like a typical action someone like her would take.

"We could have solved that peacefully, you know," Jack said after they were finally out of sight.

That's when Verity slowed down, even though she still did not let go of his hand. She knew, too late, what her actions meant in the long run. Turning to him, there were tears in her eyes. "They'll just come back. They always come back." Her one act of bravery was in vain. She let go of his hand and ran back to her house alone. Once she was in the house, she set herself to work, tidying the house and cleaning the mess from her father's drunken stupor the other night. It felt automatic. It felt safe.

Jack simply stood where he was. The other boys had run off, cowards that they were, and he didn't know what to do. He went back to the water bucket and picked it up. The least he could do was get the water to her so that her father wasn't mean to her. Jack didn't believe Verity's stick burning story and he had a strong belief that her father was the real reason. But he knew there wasn't much that he could say. He knew how the village treated her, even if it was through omission or ignorance. But he had wanted to talk to her since he met her. He couldn't help it, the red hair was so cool and he thought that maybe she would be cool too and that they could have fun and play games together with the other children. Setting down the water bucket at her front door, he knocked and then walked back home without waiting for an answer. She would understand.

When Verity opened her door, she saw the water bucket had made it to her house, and she smiled sadly. She'd have to thank Jack as soon as she could. But first, she had to deal with her father. He'd just woken up.


The next day Verity did not see Jack. She didn't see him the next day or the day after, and she had begun to lose hope. She was too scared to seek out his company by herself, for fear that she would run into practically anyone but him. A week passed, and she had not heard from or seen him anywhere. Verity was on the verge of concluding that Jack had been a myth. Then, on the seventh day, a knock paraded on her door, and a smile lit up her face. She ran immediately for the door, only to be pushed back by her father's drunkenly stern arm.

"Git to work, ye wench," he instructed her right off the bat.

"But sir, I finished my work," she answered, but as usual, she was ignored.

The man grunted in answer to her and opened the door. "Yeah?"

"Hi, is Verity there?" Verity's smiles were proven right and she eagerly waited to see how Jack would deal with her father. She had some sort of firm belief that Jack could trick his way around the most stubborn of adults. Maybe her father would make an exception, just this one time, and let her out willingly.

"Who're ye dat's askin'?" he sneered.

"I'm Jackson Overland. I was sent by Mr. Burgess to gather up the children. He has small jobs that need to get done around the village and the children are more able to do it than the adult folks."

Verity was taken aback. Mr. Burgess was like the leader of the village. The name of the village was entrusted to him. Often, he'd gather the village people and make some speeches, but Verity often was working in her home and was too busy to see what he had to say. Why was now so important that he needed all the children? Why not just grab the stronger or bigger children? Verity was neither of those.

Her father groaned in consideration. "As long as he's puttin' 'em to work, I s'pose I can spare him my daughter. Verity," he waved her over. She obeyed immediately. "Go wit dis boy. Mr. Burgess's puttin' ye to work. Be glad, it's yer only time outta dis house for anything longer'n a hour. 'N come back wit more kindlin' fer de fire."

"Yes, sir," Verity could hardly hold her excitement. Even if it was tough work, at least she could see Jack and be out of the horrible stench that was her house.

When her father pushed her out the door and closed it, she hugged the unsuspecting Jack. Jack was stunned at first, but soon returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her. Verity snuggled into it happily, as any kid would in a friendly embrace. She was sure her smile was painted permanently on her face.

"You stink," were the first words he had said to her in a week. It was true, but Verity saw that he had said it with a lopsided grin. She laughed and said she would wash up at the river before they went to see what Mr. Burgess wanted.

"Oh, there isn't actually any work," Jack told her, "I just wanted to go for a hike through the woods and climb some trees and I needed someone to go with me," he took her hand and they were off.

And she couldn't have been happier.


A/N: Yay, that was cute. :) Part 1 has concluded, Parts 2, 3, and 4 have yet to come! I know it seems like a lot for simply viewing a memory case, but trust me, the story is worth it. I'll update sooner than planned if you readers ask me to!