liesel schafer {seven} fin

"Get back here, you faules schwein!"

Don't stop, Liesel. Keep going.

"You ungrateful rat!"

Keep running.

"Teufel-laich!"

Her shrieking fades, but the thumping of my bare feet against the earth persists, my heart pounding against my ribs until I think it's about to break free. My side stings from where leather tore through cotton and kissed pale white skin.

I hear the door slam, now a good distance from me. But it's not enough.

I run, black hair that's too long flying into my wild eyes, skinny arms swinging by my sides, feet pounding against the cobblestone street beneath me. It turns to soil and yet my fear does not subside. I run and run and run, the distance between myself and a place some would call a home never distant enough. Farther, farther, farther.

Don't stop, Liesel.

Something wet stings my eyes and runs down my pale cheeks.

Papi brought me chocolate yesterday, because I turned eight, and he said all eight-year-olds deserved a taste of chocolate. Miss Hylda cut out her smile and pasted it to her lips, fabricating a laugh when he placed a piece in her serpentine mouth.

Keep running.

I know that things weren't always like this. I know somewhere, in the very deepest corners of my mind, that Miss Hylda has not always reigned over our house like the grim reaper. I like to think that there used to be sunlight here, that the house was warm and welcoming instead of cold and imposing.

My thin fingers run along the edge of the fireplace, inspecting them after for dust. Miss Hylda doesn't like dust, you see. It all must be clean and spotless. You'd think the mayor was coming to visit us every day.

I straighten the candles on the mantelpiece, not real silver, but still some expensive metal we can only afford because of Papi's good fortune.

The other children used to like me, before I became the impulsive wreck that I am. I used to be strong. But years and years with Miss Hylda have whittled away at me, till I've become nothing but a paper-thin twig, snapping under the tiniest bit of pressure.

"Liesel!"

I stiffen up. Hands at my side, shoulders back, eyes down. The way she taught me.

(It's respectful, shatz.)

I didn't know what shatz meant. Or any of the other names she called me, for that matter. Papi says it's an old language, one we don't speak anymore, but that certain words were passed down through Miss Hylda's family. He says it's a gift. I'm not sure I agree.

My gaze turns to the carpet instead of Miss Hylda, but I have no trouble picturing her icy stare, her thin lips with her cut out smile. She's beautiful, in a frightening way.

"Liesel, shatz, you forgot to clean up the ashes."

I can almost see her eyes narrowing.

"Again."

Her blow comes fast and hard, well-practiced and precise. A ringing in my ears and fire across my cheek. I do not cry, I do not scream. She has taught me better.

(You are a coward, Liesel. You'll only make it worse.)

She grabs my chin, tightly, claw-like nails pressing against young flesh. I'm forced to look at her. She's inspecting me, eyes eating up the welt she's caused.

"Schatz, you must stop getting into fights at school."

I lower my gaze.

"Yes, Miss Hylda."

"Papi, tell me about Mama."

A deep chuckle, one that resonates through his entire being and fills me with hope. I snuggle myself up closer to him, small hands in his large one, curled up against his chest. The fire is warm tonight, and Miss Hylda is out with friends. Almost all is right in the world.

"She looked like you, munchkin." he smiles, lifting my chin to look him in eye.

The difference between him and Miss Hylda is as black is to white. He is gentle, patient. If I were to pull back, he would let me. It would break his heart, but what matters is that he would let me. He has a field laid out for me and wants me to run in it. Miss Hylda, on the other hand, has clamped me down in her cold, iron chains until I scream for mercy. I like to think Mama was different.

"She had black hair." he began, a faint smile upon his lips, a distant look in his kind, brown eyes. "Black like the night, all long and wavy, down to here." he puts his hand against his side to show me. "And her laugh..." he trails off. A grin pulls at the corners of my lips, and I lean in closer, as if he's telling me some treasured secret.

"Yes, Papi?"

A pause.

"Well, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Papi was not always quite as happy as he is now. When I was younger, I shadow loomed over him, darkening his eyes and saddening his demeanor. It was like a grey rain cloud followed him wherever he went. He would smile for me, tell me stories, tuck me in and night and kiss my cheek. He has always loved me more than anything else in the world. But he was not always happy.

(She gave her life for you, Liesel. You know that right?)

(Yes Papi, I know.)

She died after I was born. Of course, Papi has never once blamed me for her death, and rarely do I blame myself. But for the better part of my youth, he was full of sorrow and heartache.

(What a beautiful daughter you have, Charles!)

Miss Hylda's crooning voice echoes throughout my mind, her paper smile and frozen eyes staring into my soul. She brought him joy, some sort of hope that I couldn't give him. I didn't understand what it was.

I liked her at first. She was kind to me, she brought me apples from the market, she smiled and sometimes braided my hair. I was happy when Papi proposed, despite knowing her for such a short amount of time. She had chased away his rain cloud when I couldn't, and I wanted it to stay as far from him as possible. She was able to keep it at bay.

Trouble is, I paid the price for it.

"He loves you more than me, schwein!"

Yes, he does.

Papi's belt sings through the air, wielded by pretty hands with foul intentions.

"I'll never be good enough for him!"

No, you're not.

One lash, another, another. Tiny fingers grip the edge of the table.

"Why doesn't he love me, teufel-laich? Tell me!"

Again. Again. Again.

Miss Hylda's voice chokes and suddenly the lashes stop, I come up for air from the water I thought would drown me. Breath in, breath out.

Run, Liesel.

I think and then move and then take flight. She grabs for me but I break free and barrel outside before she can get her claws on me again. I run and run, even though it will only make things worse.

Keep going, Liesel. Keep running.