osyris gingham /5

My mother was born barren.

So you're probably wondering how she's my mother then, which would be a sensible thing to wonder but I shouldn't have to spell out adoption when my siblings and I all look so different. I guess when word gets out that you'll take in babies left on Gingham's steps, people take it for granted.

I don't think mom ever minded though, she always says she's got plenty so why shouldn't she share it.

She inherited Gingham from my grandfather. Everyone said she should have taken a husband to help her run things but mom laughed in their faces. She didn't need anyone or maybe she just didn't want them. There are rumours of course, that mom was in love with someone but they were reaped or something. Some people say she killed them because they double-crossed her which she would definitely do, I believe that one.

Anyway, I love her, she's my mom.

She said I came to her in November. I'd been left on the steps of the electricity plant sometime in the early morning. She heard me crying when the first rays of sunlight were touching the frost in the yard. I was so cold that she kept me swaddled against her chest all day while she worked. She said I needed the sun to smile so she pressed it into my skin.

Matilde makes a cake every year on that day, she's a pretty good older sister, she's never forgotten any of our birthdays I don't think. Even when I've forgotten my birthday I still wake up to yellow cake with lemon icing.

My room is in the attic because mom doesn't care what happens to the walls up here. I can stick anything I want to them, so I do. Pictures from old books and magazines, half-sketches and paintings that I've done, never anything good enough to show but things I love all the same. There's a small window that looks out over the back yard and french doors that that open to the front. I keep them open on sunny days.

And I know that's not a personality, loving the warmth of the sun, but I make it mine.

Mom homeschooled all of us so that we could learn how to run things in the plant too and you can say that the workers helped raise us. Everyone is family according to mom. Christmas is always a big party, we clear the plant floor and dance all night. Jordy complains, says we spend so much money for just one night but mom says some things are priceless.

And I wish I knew how to love like she does.

Sometimes I think that there's something in me that doesn't let me, like there's a block. I love my siblings, I love my mom but I'm not really sure what that actually means. I don't think any of them really know me and the things I think about are things I'd never say out loud.

Gingham Electric isn't just warmth, like most things there's another side to the Plant. As third eldest, there are things I'm privy too that a lot of my siblings aren't. There are things that my mother has done to keep us all safe that I wish I never learned about, people my mother has dealt with and things we can't undo.

She started teaching me how to use a knife when I was twelve, said I might need it someday. Well, I pinned a kid to the brick and stone fence that wraps the plant a month ago. I didn't kill him, but I watched it happen. It was necessary, evil but what isn't these days.

My dreams are twisted broken things.

Some nights I dream that my room is on fire and I just lay there as it burns around me but there's no fear, just contentment. I only feel afraid after I wake up. So even in the winter, I sleep with the french doors wide open. I can't sleep without the sounds of the District falling asleep with me.

I might be rotting from the inside out.