business as usual // Zoe

When Brigit Hayes blinked, she could see jewels - hundreds of them. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, opals, amethysts, all of which danced in her peripheral vision no matter where she looked, casting an eternal glow into weary eyes. From dusk until the first wink of a forthcoming sunset the Hayes jewelry company was the only focus of young Brigit Hayes’ mind – a fifteen-year-old career with the maturity of a full-fledged adult, a burden forced upon her by infamous tyrant and father Enlon Hayes. Like the captain of a ship her eyes examined every employee and every inch of the headquarters as if her life depended on it (and sadly, it somewhat did), all with a stoic mask of authority and monotony. She tired of each day’s repetitive routine, but she was given no choice in the matter. She was to run the business without complaint or face her father’s dire consequences, and the latter was too terrifying to imagine.

Unlike a few of her siblings she was scrutinized day and night under her father’s watchful eyes, and subject to criticism when making every move to appease his wishes. Other siblings weren’t so unfortunate – her twin, for example, normally escaped his attention. He had made his distastes of her behavior evident long ago, yet he didn’t act upon any desires to mold her into the human being he wanted Aine or Brigit to be. Instead, he left her alone to train and frolic as she pleased. If her barrier between forbidden emotions and her conscience wasn't so thickened thanks to Enlon’s brainwashing and terrorizing, Brigit would look upon her sister through a lens of emerald envy. But emotions were worthless and distracting. She could not afford to feel anything but what was necessary to survive and what was inevitable due to her body’s hormones and neurochemicals.

As her scheduled shift came to a relieving conclusion she draped her trench coat firmly over her business attire and retreated from the building to return home in time for career training. Winter’s icy breath brushed bitterly against her skin, quickening her stride to a hasty pace until she was at the Hayes’ manor doorstep, where she checked her watch and discovered that she was several minutes tardy. She rushed inside, removed her coat, changed into comfortable clothing and retreated to their private training center, where she was relieved to see that neither Enlon nor Aine was there to chastise her for her meager case of irresponsibility. Actually, now that she scanned the room it seemed nobody had arrived for training except her acrobatic twin sister, Jessalyn. The unexpected absence was puzzling, but she decided not to let it faze her. If anything, it was an advantage, because if Aine was there then she would be forced to conceal her abilities yet again. Aine was supposed to be the prodigy, after all, and Brigit would let her have that glory.

Brigit and Jessalyn knew the truth, though – that Brigit was and always would be the most talented knife-thrower in the family, no matter how rigorously Aine trained herself. She would purposely toss off-center to feed Aine lies about her talents, otherwise she would be subject to her fiery wrath, and although she was tolerant of many things she knew she did not want to bear such punishment. It was admittedly pathetic that she had to belittle herself in order to ensure her safety, but she no longer minded. The knowledge of her superiority was enough to keep her satisfied. Knowledge could be dangerous, though. If she didn’t keep herself in check she might tread along borders of feeling pride – another forbidden concept. Her emotional range was very limited, thanks to Enlon’s iron fist of control.

She gathered a few knives from the rack and twirled them effortlessly between her nimble fingers, relieved that she could accomplish some real training without hesitation or repression. In three swift motions she released each blade – one, two, three perfect thumps – and struck the center of her circular target. A warm up, she would call it. She faintly wondered if she would be daring enough to use the blindfold again. Instead, though, she withdrew more blades and glanced at the door, waiting for someone like Leo or Clare to waltz in and join them. Where could they be, anyway? They knew what the schedule was, and despite Enlon’s absence (most likely due to his shady side-business, which Brigit played no part in) he would most likely show up to check on their progress eventually. Was she missing something?

After a few moments of silence and stillness, she turned to her twin sister and asked, ”Where is everyone?”