Chapter 4

The door creaked shut behind Flora, leaving Kira alone in the cold, suffocating darkness. For a brief moment, the air still carried the warmth of her sister's presence—the only warmth she had felt in what seemed like forever. But as the sound of Flora's fading footsteps vanished, so too did the fragile thread holding Kira together.

Her chest tightened, her breath came in short, uneven bursts, and suddenly, the tears that had been threatening to fall broke free, violent and unstoppable. She stumbled back onto the hard floor, curling her knees to her chest as wave after wave of raw emotion crashed over her, and tightly held the shawl closer to her.

Her heart was filled with disgust and hatred.

That was the only feeling she understood, the only one that had rooted itself so deeply within her since the day she first learned to recognize faces, the faces of the people, who themselves were filled of disgust whenever they looked at her. She hated them and she hated her house and she hated the cold walls of this so called house. She hated the sound of the lock clicking shut. She hated the pain that never seemed to fade.

Her shoulders shook as her sobs grew louder. She tried to silence herself, tried to swallow the noise, but the tears wouldn't stop, despite her efforts to control herself. She clawed at the floor beneath her, and bite the shawl, as if she could tear herself out of this life.

The next day, the door to the basement swung open with a sharp scrape, shattering the silence. Kira flinched, her body sore and stiff from the night spent on the cold, hard floor. She tried to open her swollen eyes, but even the faintest glimmer of light burned like fire.

Rough hands grabbed her by the arm, fingers digging into her skin like claws. Without a word, she was yanked upward, the sudden motion sending a fresh jolt of pain through her bruised body. Her legs trembled under her weight, and before she could steady herself, the hands dragged her up the stairs.

The world above felt strange, the warmth of the kitchen, raised her hairs, sending a shiver down her spine, and the light made her head throb. The smell of fried eggs and butter teased her empty stomach.

When her vision cleared, she saw them all.

Her mother was leaning over the counter, writing something on a small slip of paper, her face cold and distant. Flora stood quietly by the door, her fingers curled into nervous fists, while her brother, William, looked on indifferently, munching on a piece of toast.

And then there was him.

Her father.

It was his hands that had dragged her out of the basement. His voice cut through the air like ice.

"You don't want to go to school?" he asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

Kira blinked rapidly, trying to force herself to focus. The world felt hazy, her limbs heavy, her mouth dry. The question hung in the air, but she couldn't find her voice to answer.

A sharp yank at her hair brought a fresh sting of pain. He pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his cold, cruel eyes.

"I asked you a question," he said, softer now, but the menace in his voice was unmistakable.

"And when I ask a question, you must answer me, or you want to go down there again?

If you don't want to go to school, just say so—then we won't have to waste our money on you. Now answer"

The threat curled around Kira's throat, tightening like a noose. Fear clawed at her chest as the memory of the basement loomed over her like a shadow.

"I…" Her voice cracked, the lump in her throat choking her words. "I have to go to school," she forced out, barely above a whisper.

"What?" he snapped, leaning closer. "Speak up when I'm talking to you."

"I have to go to school," Kira said, louder this time, though her voice trembled.

His lip curled in disgust, as if the very sight of her offended him. "HAVE to?" He said bitterly. "What are we forcing you now? If you're so miserable, don't bother going. You're nothing but a burden anyway there as well."

"No," Kira blurted out, panic rising in her chest. "I Want to go…." Her hands shook at her sides, fists clenched tight enough to leave crescent-shaped marks on her palms.

A tense silence settled over the room.

Finally, with a scoff, her father let go of her hair and shoved her aside. "Useless," he muttered under his breath.

Finally, the summer vacations were over, she no longer had to see these people, for at least for a few hours daily. These few hours were her solace, from facing the monsters that were devouring her soul, making her into the very people, she was living with and she hated that. the very realization that the school had resumed felt like a lifeline, an escape from hell that sent a layer of happiness in her body. She felt energetic. She could breathe finally.

Kira rushed to her room, her body aching with every step. Her uniform lay crumpled in the wardrobe, wrinkled and shrunken from months of neglect. She ironed it hurriedly, her hands trembling from exhaustion. A quick splash of cold water on her face did little to erase the puffiness around her eyes, but it was enough to make her presentable. She brushed her hair into a simple braid and slung her worn-out school bag over her shoulder.

Downstairs, her siblings sat comfortably at the table, their plates filled with eggs, toast, and fresh fruit. Her stomach growled at the sight, but there was nothing left for her.

Desperately, she opened the fridge, only to find it empty. Not even a slice of bread remained.

"What do you think you're doing?" her father's voice boomed behind her, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I—I'm just—"

"Have you eaten breakfast?" he demanded, cutting her off.

Kira swallowed the dryness in her throat. "No…" she admitted softly.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to eat…" she lied, her voice barely audible.

At that, his hand struck the back of her head, hard enough to make her stumble forward, nearly falling into a chair.

"Then don't come crying to me when you're sick," he snapped. "Ungrateful children."

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. She had learned long ago that crying only made things worse.

"Understand?" he barked, but before Kira could answer, Flora's voice rang out.

"Dad… let's go," she said quietly. "We're going to be late."

Her father glared at Kira one last time before storming out the door, muttering curses under his breath. Flora and William followed without another glance, leaving Kira alone once again.

She immediately took a spare coke bottle, filled it water, drank some and took the rest in her bag. Hurrying after her siblings.

In the class she felt and nauseous and dizzy from drinking too much water, and nothing solid. By the time recess arrived, Kira's stomach twisted painfully, the gnawing hunger leaving her dizzy. She curled into herself at her desk, trying to ease the ache.

A gentle tap on her shoulder startled her. She turned slowly to see a girl standing beside her, holding out a small plate.

"It's my birthday," the girl said with a bright smile, extending the plate of cake. "Want some?"

The sweet aroma filled Kira's senses, making her mouth water. But still, she shook her head weakly. "Congratulations," she whispered, forcing a smile. "But I'm fine… thank you."

Before she could protest, the girl scooped a bite of cake and popped it into Kira's mouth.

The taste was like nothing she had ever known, sweet, creamy, and warm. It melted on her tongue, sending shivers through her starved body. For a fleeting moment, the world didn't feel so cold.

"You better eat the rest," the girl teased, leaving the plate behind. "Or I'll feed you myself." "though I won't really mind feeding you myself", she continued with a chuckle and walked away.

As she walked away, Kira stared at the cake. Her cheeks flushed as she stared at the pink and white cake. Unconsciously her hand moved towards the cake, but she pulled it back, looking away from it, her eyes shut, trying to control her guilty instincts.

But then realizing she has to eat it, she held the spoon, and took a small bite, the sweetness felt a balm against the darkness inside her. She felt her heart dancing against the gale coming through the window, every pore of her body relaxing with the sweetness of the strawberry jam and warm hug of the vanilla cream. She felt loved.

And for those few minutes, she forgot everything.

Sweets were her escape, she never knew she needed.