3.

/right place at the right time

or not?/

It was about this time when I really started to engage with my life. I realised that the person I had been born into had an aptitude for learning, an inquisitive mind and a fascination I had never previously possessed. I wasn't as disheartened as I expected myself to be when I found that Grisha wasn't cheating time and knowledge with information he had learned from the outside world. He produced these medicines from scratch, with medicinal herbs and plants lined up in neat rows in his little backyard-made-greenhouse.

We adopted an easy going mentor-apprentice relationship, where Grisha did the speaking, the demonstrating, and I listened and copied his actions. Every now and then I asked questions to clarify my understanding, but nothing really more than that. He wasn't the talkative type, but then again, neither was I.

Because he and I had something in common.

We both had our secrets.

I didn't know his, and he didn't know mine. And that was fine by me – for now.

I began to acquaint myself with the herbs first – Grisha said they weren't as intimidating to start with compared to the animal organs and insects, to which I wholeheartedly agreed. My stomach shifted uncomfortably at the thought of disembowelling an animal or snuffing the life out of a small worm for the sake of another creature.

There were the dandelions, ginger, thistles and peppermint to aid digestion. I wasn't at all surprised that these were the first herbs I was introduced to. From memory, most of the characters ate meat and meat gruel and more meat or a hunk of bread washed down by a glass of cold water, despite the countless fruit and vegetable stalls. Grisha taught me how to grind up the leaves and flowers in a good ol' mortar and pestle, and then left them out in the sun to dry before refilling dangerously empty jars. Most patients like to drink it with a cup of warm water after dinner, he said.

Then there was kava roots, lemon balm, tea leaves, lavender, camomile to remedy stress and anxiety. I wasn't surprised at this one either. Living confined within walls wasn't exactly a stress-free lifestyle, though it wasn't bad either, the worst case scenario just got to some people.

And then came the anti-inflammatory plants – green tea, turmeric, certain tree barks, rosemary, even black pepper. The more I was learning from Grisha, the more I was convinced that my old college kitchen was just a giant first aid room.

Stray, unwanted weeds were unearthed, and budding seedlings were moved into pots, gardens were watered, and scratchy leaves were collected and crushed. Particularly sensitive and difficult plants were sometimes brought inside and taken care of. Pests were physically removed with gloves on my hands. The jumping pests were the worst. Sometimes, Eren would come to help, but he never stayed long enough. Instead, he succumbed to sheer boredom and went off to find Armin to play with, and dream with.

And all of a sudden I was 9, finding it all very fascinating, until we started to gut toads.

My face scrunched in dissatisfaction as I watched Grisha handle his knife and behead the squirming toad. As he started to scoop the toad's guts out, falling in bloody goops and blobs onto the counter, the toad continue to twitch involuntary.

He laughed at my pinched face. "That was me when I started doing this, you'll get used to it."

I nodded. "How are you so sure that this will help with asthma and common colds anyways?"

He grunted as he tugged at a particularly stubborn part of the toad's intestines. "Seen it work, and it really works wonders."

The intestines came undone and he made a grab for the next toad in the bucket. He wiped the sweat from his brows and piped up again, "It's the patient's preference really, parsley leaves and ginger work just as well in my opinion."

I nodded at that, almost in relief. "I think I'll be sticking to the latter two, I really can't see myself doing- " Grisha pulled the escaping toad back to the bloodied counter of his previous victim and violently slammed his butchers knife down. "That." I said conclusively.

"Don't worry yourself too much, that's what I said too."

"To whom?"

He seemed suddenly engrossed in his task of gutting frogs. Was he ignoring me? I frowned. He didn't seem particularly fazed at his slip up, just kept his head down and worked at the frog, leaving my question hanging in the air. I suppose Grisha wasn't too worried about his secret being uncovered, or at least he didn't show it. I mean, who on earth would believe him?

And just as fast as the tension cloaked the room, it dissipated as we fell back into small talk. My face was reluctantly contorting into many laughable expressions as Grisha moved onto other stomach heaving medicinal components. Ants, beetles, grasshoppers and maggots were amongst the few that he worked with.

Clutching my heaving stomach, I trudged on through these medical mysteries.

It was soon after that I began to work in Grisha's small clinic. We helped bandage injured soldiers en route to the inner walls after coming back from a horrific expedition. We held poultices – soft, moist, masses of material - of freshly grinded yarrow stalks and flowers and soils to their inflamed wounds. Sometimes, after they had been treated, they requested some powder or lotion and Grisha would smile knowingly and give them a small container with a brush. When I asked about it, Grisha informed me that some soldiers didn't want to show these battle scars to their communities, families and preferred to cover it up. It wasn't so much shame than sparking communal fear in the lives of those who didn't, or couldn't fight. I quirked up at that. So basically, some type of homemade makeup?

We treated sore muscles, torn muscles, pulled muscles, stiff muscles, massaged their backs and shoulders to relieve them of their pain. I had seriously underestimated the physiotherapists in my past life. More often than not, I'd come home to Mother and Father wondering why my wrists were clicking and why my fingers were numb. They were worried, but I said that it was alright, and that I was still learning. What they didn't know was that you had to really dig into their muscles and give them a proper massage to alleviate their pain. Grisha corrected my stance and technique in front of these soldiers, much to my embarrassment, but it was a learning experience. These soldiers had the darkest look in their eyes.

They had seen hell, and come out of it alive.

I didn't really notice until now, but whenever I was at the Yeager's household the basement had always been guarded in one way or another. It was in the small things, calling my name when I was taking suspiciously long in the bathroom, checking in to see I was where I was supposed to be amongst other things that had always prevented me from venturing down into the basement.

I noticed this now, because Grisha wasn't home today. He was late to his appointment with me to make burn salves. Carla was humming in the kitchen, and I could hear a knife clicking against the chopping board, carrots perhaps? I sat unattended in his workshop, cutting into the aloe leaf with a knife, careful to avoid wasting even a drop of the gel, before scraping the slimy stuff into a glass jar. Aloe vera was an odd plant indeed, growing in the driest of conditions, but had so much liquid stored inside.

It was almost deceptive, I mused. Nature's way of creation was fascinating and altogether mesmerising if one set aside enough time to examine it. Without the distraction of cell phones and the instantaneity of communication, one begins to notice the little things, the details, the joys, and the finer things in life.

Nine years was a long time to contemplate…almost too long.

Dropping two drops of sunflower oil in the centre of the gel, exactly like how Grisha made it, I gave the liquefied gel a final mix before emphatically twisting the lid on and grinning. That's another batch done for today.

The mystery of the basement was really drawing me towards it now. The darkened door at the bottom taunted me every time I passed the little hole in the ground today. Grisha wasn't here either. Everything seemed to align, this opportunity made the utmost sense and I knew I had to take this chance.

Tentatively, I pressed my right foot down on the first step. The aged wood creaked in betrayal. I squeaked in surprise and took a step backwards, but I wasn't ready to give up. I prodded my big toe gently around the corners, edges and smooth surfaces of the wooden step, until finally; I was able to quietly shift my entire weight onto my right foot, which was now planted firmly on the first step. He took precautions, evidently. My heart was knocking wildly against my ribcage and my world throbbed as I made my way down.

The second step was much more manageable. Balancing carefully on my right foot, with my right hand gripping the handrail, I scouted the next step systematically, until I was able to confidently place my left foot on the second step and shift my weight accordingly.

"Lily? Lily!" Carla was calling for me. Why now?!

I cursed under my breath and took another step down the stairs. Maybe I could pass it off as a joke and say I was hiding in the basement to surprise her afterwards. I was only nine, after all, and I would, without a doubt, use all the childhood pity I could get to uncover Grisha's secrets.

Hearing Carla's footsteps nearing the staircase had me spiralling into a state of panic.

The thread of concentration I held so tightly onto snapped as I tumbled down staircase, crashing into the door at the bottom. For some reason, I had expected it to creak open. In that moment, I had completely forgotten about Eren's key. Groaning, I pushed and pounded against it in exasperation, and to nobody's surprise, it did not budge.

Lying sprawled at the bottom, I inhaled, and exhaled, catching my breath, and listened bitterly to the sweet afternoon birdsong. The ignorant birdsong. I don't think I had broken anything, but a few odd bruises would definitely linger.

Carla came to a stop when she held me captive in her sight, her hands planted firmly into her hips. I stared blankly back at her, and to my surprise, she seemed neither angry nor irritated. She looked terrified. We held each other in our respective visions momentarily, and I was finally coherent enough to formulate a few odd lies. Sorry I fell, would work, except the staircase was far from where I was supposed to be, or I slipped, or I tripped, or silence.

Carla threw her cleaning cloth onto the ground, climbed down the stairs two at a time, wrapped her arm hastily around my bruised waist and hauled me up the stairs, before unceremoniously dumping me at the top of the stairs. I was surprised she had such strength in her. She eyed me suspiciously.

"Didn't you hear me?" Carla turned her back as I pulled myself up into a standing position. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

"I wanted you to come help me cook." Now I knew that was a blatant lie, she had done nothing more than call for me. Carla's voice wavered as she spoke, and then she picked up her discarded cloth and made her way to the kitchen. I meekly followed behind her and sat down at the dining table, head hung low and shame-faced.

She set the pot onto a cooling rack, before taking a seat opposite me.

"Lily."

I slowly raised my head.

"I know you're curious. Because," she cleared her throat, and continued, "I was too."

Carla didn't need me to feed her lies. Perhaps her heightened motherly perceptions saw more to me than what I chose to reveal to the world. I was sitting so tensely in my seat; I was breaking out in a cold sweat. I clasped my hands together and waited for her to continue. For one, I felt as if all the work I had done in these nine years had been for naught. And secondly, there was nothing more uncomfortable than being told off by another child's mother.

"You have to understand, Lily," Carla leaned over to tilt my chin up so that I was looking her in the eye, "Grisha is a very disturbed man."

I swallowed nervously. Just how much did she know? And how much did she see? My impression of Carla didn't go beyond a vaguely clueless, strict, but loving mother. She never hesitated to berate Eren for his rash decisions and prompt fights, but still chose to cleanse his injuries. Perhaps this profound curiosity and the suspicions she had against her own husband, made her seem a little more human.

After a moment's hesitation, I nodded, and Carla visibly relaxed.

"I don't want to see you near those stairs ever again, and I won't tell Grisha about your little mishap today." And that was the end of that.

Carla slouched in her seat, before casting a sullen look at the ticking clock, grumbling underneath her breath about dinner going cold. She fumed like Mother did; it was no wonder that they were good friends.

"They're late."

I followed her gaze, to find that it was late evening. Mother and Father would be worried if I didn't come home soon. For the past nine years, the Yeager family ate dinner at 7pm, to the minute. It was a promise Grisha had made to Carla early in their marriage to compensate for his busy routine.

Think, think, think.

Could it be?

Before I had time to comprehend the possibility of this event happening right now, in this moment, impatient knuckles knocked furiously against the wooden door.

"I'll get it."

I was beside the door, turning the brass handle in an instant. I could hear Eren's voice through the door, but whether he was excited, anxious, or terrified, I couldn't tell.

I threw open the door. I could feel the cool autumn wind nipping my skin.

I heard Carla gasp in surprise before I saw it with my bare eyes. A girl with jet black hair, awfully skinny, wearing a pastel pink dress flowing all the way down to her ankles, spattered with spots of dried blood, with those empty, emotionless eyes, complete with that distinctive, scarlet scarf wrapped around her shoulders.

Holy shit.

It was Mikasa Ackerman.

I didn't have the chance to introduce myself to Mikasa before I was told to go home and take a week's break from my apprenticeship. I scratched the head of my sleepy goats before I entered my home to greet Mother and Father, and braced myself for the imminent barrage of their questions.

They didn't disappoint.

A week's break? Did you upset Eren? No, there's a new girl, I said. What? Where from? I don't know, I lied. I'll bring some fruits over for them tomorrow, are you coming? I don't think you should disturb them, I said. What, why? I sighed.

I climbed into bed with my head in the clouds. If Mikasa was in the picture, it meant that the Wall could fall any minute now, but the worst part of it was, I didn't know what to do about it. I felt the colossal burden of my knowledge sit on my shoulders for a moment, before I more or less worried myself to sleep.

The next morning, as I was feeding and collecting eggs from our three hens, I caught a glimpse of Eren and Armin running past my house with Mikasa in tow, eagerly pointing out all of Shiganshina's hotspots. I wasn't bothered by it, Eren – their unofficial leader, and I just didn't seem compatible as friends. He grew to be passionate, fearless and arrogant in all the right and wrong ways. In fact, I felt out of place intruding upon the trio's tight friendship.

The trio walked back past my house in the evening, with Mikasa looking as pristine as she did this morning, wrapped in her red scarf, but Eren and Armin a little scuffed around the edges.

Mikasa had probably just won her first fight with Armin's bullies, I realised in amusement.

Nothing out of the usual happened in my long week of doing nothing, as it finally came to an end. Mother dressed me up more often, saying that I was growing up too quickly, being too independent for a child who was a mere nine years old, and that she wanted to mother me a bit more. She was very much right, and although I had taken to wearing simple plain grey t-shirts because I usually came back from lessons with stains of blood whilst still, somehow, smelling magnificently of herbs, I let her pick out frilly pink dresses with embarrassing bow ties and ribbons hanging off the hem. She tucked a pink headband behind my ears to finish off the look as I smiled nervously into her small mirror.

I found myself back in the Yeager household with a renewed love of medicine the next day, ready to learn. Carla was still washing the plates and bowls from lunch, because I had arrived so early. I walked towards their dining table to tuck the wooden chairs back into their respective places and heard a whisper of a whistle I'd never heard before –

The ground shook violently under my feet and I was thrown into the air from the impact. Then I'm squatting with my arms thrown over my head as the debris and dust smashed into the ground. Where there was previously roof and shingles, there was now clear, blue sky. It would be nice to pause and hear the birdsong but all I hears was a sharp ringing in my ears, so high pitched I had my hands covering my ears and I just wanted it all to stop.

I felt cool liquid running down my face and I wondered if the drainage pipes had broken. My heart stops in my throat when I see thick, scarlet blood in my hands.

Wall Maria had fallen.

I'm screaming "Carla! Carla?" but I couldn't hear myself.

A/N: sorry for the re-upload(s) (noticed some grammatical errors), but chapter 3 is up! really want to hear your thoughts on this chapter & happy boxing day & happy reading & hope you follow and favourite!