Shadows of Transformation
The morning air was sharp, a biting cold that seemed to seep through the thin walls of their home. Nicholas sat on the floor near the window, his small hands gripping the edge of a cracked wooden box. Inside was a mishmash of broken toys, rusted nails, and scraps of paper. None of it made sense to him, but Ella had proudly declared it her "treasure chest." She knelt beside him, carefully sorting through the junk as though she were handling priceless artifacts.
"This one's the best," she said, holding up a chipped glass bead. It caught the faint light streaming through the window, casting a weak rainbow onto the floor.
Nicholas couldn't understand how she could find joy in something so trivial. He stared at the bead, then at Ella's face. Her smile was small, hesitant, but real.
"Why do you care so much about that?" he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
Ella's smile faltered. "Because it's pretty," she said simply. "And it's mine."
He wanted to argue, to say it was worthless. But something in her tone stopped him. Instead, he looked back at the box and picked up a bent nail. "What about this? Is this pretty too?"
Ella giggled. "No, silly. That's for building things."
Building things. The phrase struck a chord in Nicholas, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way she said it, like it was something worth holding onto. Something worth hoping for.
Later that day, Daniel came home with a bloodied lip and a torn shirt. Sarah didn't ask questions—she just sighed and handed him a damp rag. Nicholas watched from the corner, his stomach twisting at the sight of the boy's injuries.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice low.
Daniel shot him a glare. "None of your business."
Nicholas bristled but said nothing. He'd learned quickly that pressing Daniel for answers usually ended in more shouting. Instead, he turned to Sarah.
"Why don't you do something?" he asked her.
Sarah's tired eyes met his, and for a moment, she looked older than her years. "What do you think I can do, Nicholas?" she said softly. "We're not in a world where people like us have options."
The weight of her words settled over him like a lead blanket. Nicholas turned back to Daniel, who was now hunched over the table, angrily shoving a piece of stale bread into his mouth. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. But what could he do? He was just a child—or at least, that's how the world saw him now.
As night fell, Nicholas lay awake on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. The sounds of the house filled the silence: Sarah's muffled coughs, Ella's quiet breathing, and the faint creak of Daniel pacing in the next room.
He thought about his old life, about the things he used to take for granted. Warm beds. Hot meals. Safety. He thought about his parents—his real parents. Did they miss him? Did they even know he was gone? Or was he just… replaced? A sinking feeling in his chest told him it was the latter. After all, that's what people like them did. When one thing broke, they simply bought another.
But here, in this world, there was no replacement. No backup plan. If something broke, you fixed it—or you learned to live without it.
Nicholas turned onto his side, his gaze falling on Ella's "treasure chest" in the corner of the room. The chipped bead sat on top, glinting faintly in the moonlight. He thought about what she had said earlier, about building things.
Maybe she was right. Maybe that was the only way to survive here. Build something—anything—out of the broken pieces.
The next morning, Nicholas found Ella sitting by the window again, her "treasure chest" open in front of her. Without a word, he sat down beside her and picked up a piece of scrap wood.
"What are you doing?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Building something," he said, though he wasn't entirely sure what yet.
Ella watched him for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Can I help?"
Nicholas hesitated but nodded. "Sure. Why not."
As they worked together, Nicholas felt something shift inside him. It wasn't much—just a small flicker of warmth amid the cold. But it was enough to keep him going. For now, that was all he needed.