Page 8 of Storm

Not holding back my anticipation any longer, I let the object inside the material drop into my palm. My mouth falls open on a gasp.

As the air whooshes from my lungs, I hold another forbidden item in my hand, polished silver glimmering.

“What? How?” I cock my head, gazing at Nix and Mam, both of their faces beaming. The only brightness in this dreary land, happy they could out-shock me after last year.

Nix approaches, grasping the necklace, the long silver chain reaching to nestle between my breasts as he places the jewellery around my neck.

“It was Mam’s, and her mam’s before her.”

My eyes well as I take my mother in, half the woman she used to be. Instinctively, I brush the tear dripping down my cheek. There’s no time for theatrics. No time for sadness.

But, ire… That’s something that continually propels me.

Mam is far worse for wear than I am as she sniffles into her sleeve. “It has been hidden for many years, and now is the perfect time for it to come out of hiding.”

Nix moves around to my front and points to the dangling silver heart at the end of the chain. “Open it.”

Intrigued, I find a slit in the side of the perfectly moulded heart, a clasp popping open with slight pressure, and I’m met with one simple, shakily scribbled word. “Hope.” It slips eagerly off my tongue. One optimistic part of me that I find hard to shake, regardless of pain, anger, and resistance.

Nix grasps my shoulders and gives my body a quick jerk, eyes popping back to his. “We know this life isn’t easy, Storm. If there’s anyone who can make this a life worth living, it’s you.”

“Thank you.” I don’t stop them coming this time, the waterworks pumping through as I wrap my arms around Nix’s neck, stretching up to reach him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better big brother.”

He scoffs. “I know.”

We both chuckle from the depths of our souls.

Mam’s sniffles catch my attention. I pull away from Nix and go to sit at her feet, pulling her clammy, thin hands in mine, the purple veins prominent. “I promise you, I’ll make you proud, Mam.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you already make me so proud. You take such good care of me and your brother.”

Nix grunts behind us at that. My eyes roll, and Mam coughs out a laugh. I dab her sunken cheeks with my sleeve.

“So, when’s the next Market Day?” I ask, incoming candy on my horizon.

“Tomorrow.” Nix doesn’t even try to stifle his groan.

Facing him, I show off my snicker. “Come on, brother, you love Market Day.”

“No one here loves market days. Especially when I have to pick up the pieces.” His finger taps his nose, and I wince. It’s not my problem the hollow are cheats and liars. Though I do regret that my brother took a broken nose for my quick-witted remarks.

“I promise I won’t cause any trouble this time,” I say, crossing my heart.

Mam and Nix both let loose, cackling and wheezing, the latter mostly from our mother.

“Who’s going to tell your little entourage?”

“It’s not my fault people like me.”

At that comment, we all lose it. The people who like me are a bunch of gangly teenage boys. Their leader, Noah, took a shine to my naked body three years ago when I was taking a sponge bath behind our tent. It was the same place our mam had bathed us our whole life, backing onto the outer fences where no one resided, and Noah just so happened to be bringing over his mam’s old coveralls to trade for some dried meat. He got a solid eyeful of ass and side boob, and he claimed he had tried to get someone’s attention from the inside of the tent and heard noises from where I was using a cloth to wash the dirt from my body.

I wasn’t particularly filled out or anything, thanks to constantly being on rations, but I suspect that’s the closest Noah has ever been to a naked woman’s body, excluding his mam. Since that fateful day, Noah and his two brothers, Isaac and Luke, have always managed to find me, especially on Market Day.

Noah has tried to trade with Nix a dozen more times after he caught me naked. My brother has refused, suspecting he’s using it as a way to win me into a coupling.

I swear, they wait at their tent window for Nix and me to walk past each month.

“When are you going to let the poor kid out of his misery, Storm?” Nix jokes.