morgana petrova {d12 - fin - cb #1}

Eight.

That's how many years I got with my parents. Eight years of scraping by, living off of bread and beans. We were a grey blur blended in with the rest of the Seam. Dust in the wind, ashes in the mines. We sought smiles only during the nights we could fill our bellies, playing games in our candle lit cabin because we finally gathered the strength to laugh. Life was school, survival, and hope.

Then, death.

Poison took them. Probably something from the cheap meat. We couldn't afford healing.

I stood over their graves alone, wondering if I should join them.

I searched for jobs instead, too young for anything serious but too old for anything easy. Peacekeepers leered at me like I was food on a dish. They let me clean their houses for small profit, claiming I was "too young" for what they really wanted. But they would wait, they said.

I wouldn't wait.

The highest trees were on the opposite side of the broken electric fence, so I found the next highest. I was not a skilled climber but I was fourteen and desperate, so I scraped my fingers against bark until my skin bled. On the highest branch, I stared at the ground and felt a dizzy spell. This was my escape. I would not starve, but I would not be used either.

I jumped and snapped my arm, pain exploding. I almost regretted the decision when I realized I had to drag myself to the Mortuus hospital, but I had a goal.

They took me in, healed me, and I looked Eirlys Mortuus in the eye as I lay on white sheets. "I have nothing," I whispered, "Let me work for you, and I'll pay it off." Or they'll make me pay a different way.

Welcome Morgana, the new maid. Resourceful, unforgettable, unworthy.