"Liselotte, wake up!"

From that moment, I knew whom that voice belonged to. Not the six-year-old Sofia. The sweet and interactive sister from that childhood memory.

I woke up from my slumber, convulsed. Sofia glared at me, placing a hand on her hip. "It's five am. You know the drill, wake up. You're of thirteen years and yet I still have to awaken you every morning all because you wish not to take care of your responsibilities."

"Really Sofia? It's ironic you call me irresponsible when you can't even keep a trivial promise!" I barked.

Sofia's jaw tensed. I could tell she was galled. Sofia hated being questioned over her reliability. She hated being accused of being selfish. She always had to put up a front to look strong, but I was one of the few who'd understand that deep down, she was insecure.

She breathed in and out, her chest rising up and down to the rhythm of her heart. "Get dressed. Now."

"I hate you Sofia. Mark my words, I will forever bow to hate you!" I trenchantly said. But just as I anticipated, Sofia ignored me, walking out fuming coldly under her breath.

I, at that moment, lost that tiny flame of reconciliation that I had left in my heart. The hope that she and I could have that close, loving, civil bond that we used to share three years ago. In fact, there were so many memories coursing through this moderately sized room. We had shared it for as long as I could remember. The wooden floor stained with age and paint, the faded white paneling, chipped mint green walls, and a mere small windowside. I often liked to sit by there and feel the breeze on my face, to feel liberty tickle my nose and blow my unbound hair as much as it wanted. But even that windowside wouldn't do much for me. Not today, not tomorrow.

After briefly washing up and grabbing my cloak and shoes, I spotted the book sitting on the dresser, precisely where I placed it last night. I almost forgot. I snatched it up in my arms briskly. I was going to need that.

"Liselotte, come down to eat. Otherwise, your breakfast will go cold!" Mama called out.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Did I really need anything to eat at this point? I scarcely was given much time to finish anyways. "Coming!" I responded, grudgingly trudging down the stairs, which often squeaked due to mama being far too cheap to repair it. I was greeted with the same old sight. Mama slaving over the gas stove diligently, Gavril playing around with his wooden trains and Sofia sweeping the floor.

"Good morning Liselotte. Your breakfast is almost finished so sit down, it will be there shortly." She went back to the gas stove just as briskly.

"Let me guess, Papa left?" I callously asked.

Mama glared scowlingly at my tone but nodded. "Yes Liselotte, he did."

"He told me to let you know in his stead that he'd miss you." She added, focusing on the gas stove once again. I didn't mince anymore. Instead, I walked up to Gavril. He continued to play with his wooden train, gleefully exclaiming, "Choo choo!"

"Gavril, good morning." He stopped playing with his trains and looked up at me.

"Good morning Liselotte."

"Why are you up so early? School doesn't begin until eight?" I inquired, a little perplexed. He looked up at my question.

"Mama insisted I should be there to say goodbye to papa and help around the house for an hour or two before school." He dolefully said, his little brown eyes lifeless and tired.

I couldn't help but feel bad for Gavril. He was the youngest of the family, only ten years and yet already, he was expected to be destined to a life of dull labor work when he became my age. I wasn't sure what work it would be, but I was sure he'd end up either working as a meat butcher like Calix or chopping wood. Possibly both.

"Gavril, I don't know what to say..." I for once found myself at a loss for words and it perplexed me. That barely ever happened to me.

"It's fine. Mama insists that I have it better. That I at least have a play to stay, food to eat, and a bed to sleep on." He replies maturely. A bit too mature for my liking. I felt the burning resentment arise in my throat from the way Gavril was being treated. He was far too tender an age for this!

"Here's your meal." Mama interrupted, placing the plate of egg benedict at the place I was previously sitting in. I abruptly felt the need to lash out at her. Why was she putting an abrupt end to Gavril's childhood so cruelly?

"Why? Why would you do this to Gavril?" I heatedly demanded. I was trying hard not to let my anger spill out but in the end, there was no use. She noticed because she looked so stupidly baffled and shocked.

"What are you talking about? What have I done to Gavril?" She asked naively, narrowing her eyes.

Glaring back, I snarled viciously at her. She knew what I was talking about. My heart started to race and my palms curled up into fists until I couldn't take it anymore. I banged the table, leaving a dent in the now chipped wood. My hand wasn't bruised, nor did it have scrapes or cuts like it should've.

I got so immersed in my anger that I ignored the fact Sofia was now ushering Gavril out quickly, her arm secured protectively around his shoulders with horror plastered over her face.

"You're ending Gavril's childhood so cruelly, so abruptly. You aren't taking note that he's only ten years! Are you that naive? Are you that dense? Is it really too much to let us live? To let us enjoy, even for just a moment, a breath of fresh air? I'm tired of waking up at five every morning, walking up that damn hill to Mrs. Harsbarry's and tending to her roses seven days a week. Much less with Sofia in tow, knowing that we hate each other. We're cat and dog, we don't belong together."

"Mama," I pleaded, "I'm only asking that we get a break. Is it so difficult for you not to treat me, Sofia, and Gavril like we're done having a childhood? I want to be able to have a life again."

I poured out all my frustration and resentment, all the feelings I've been holding in since the flood, the economic crashes, and perish of Calix. Mama stood there, the pure icy rage on her face for a couple seconds. Then, she fiercely and roughly grabbed me. I retaliated by spitting in her face. She stumbled back slightly but managed to grapple my arm and trap me, forcing me to face her pathetic face.

"Now, now you listen here girl! Is this how you really feel about your responsibilities? You have duties in life. You can't always think of yourself anymore. You call it ending your youth but you should be grateful! I can't believe your this selfish." She slapped me in the face.

My cheek throbbed from the pain, aching red of flame and smoke. My jaw aches and I felt the coppery tang of what I knew to be blood saturate in my mouth on the right side where she hit me.

For a moment, she just stood there, no emotion present on her face. Her hand trembled. Her mouth gaped and she just stared at what she had done.

Wonderful. Let her see what she had done.

"For your punishment, you will go without food for a day. Calix would be disappointed in you." She coldly took my utensils and faced Sofia, who was gaping at me, "Sofia, you and Liselotte will leave now for Mrs. Harsbarry's this instant."

Sofia gazed at me again and I felt something resembling empathy and shock flicker in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something but instead, she muttered, "Yes mama."

I said nothing, but for extra measure, I spat blood on the floor. They all said the same thing.

"You never want to take care of your responsibilities!"

"You're so selfish!"

"We know you miss Calix but you need to stay strong."

Countless other worthless and hurtful words. Did they know that their words hurt me too? Even if I didn't show it, it still felt like a scar, like one of those ensanguined lacerations I'd get from the brawls I got into with boys as a child. I hurriedly put on my shoes and slammed the door, not bothering to look back. As I entered town square, I covered my nose in an endeavor to try and invade the concoction of raw meat and manure that wafted in the air. I heard the usual click-clack of the horse's hoofs, the pounding sound of the blacksmith's hammer, the smells of baked Rastons and Saffron Broth from the local bakery.

The best part? Sofia didn't nag me nor did she drag me through town like some puppet. She actually didn't even glance once at me. Which was perfect. In fact, she didn't need to mince words, I hated her and she hated me. Perfect.

As soon as we arrived at Mrs. Harsbarry's, Sofia went to the kitchen. For what, I didn't care. I did everything I was forced to against my will, pruning, winterizing, watering and fertilizing the roses. I kept an eye out for anything unusual. Precisely, the intoxicatingly syrupy scent of yesterday. But there was nothing.

When I finished, I stood in front of the magnificent archway, breathing in and out with reckless prospect for what could be beyond my reach. I looked around one last time, at the clear sky, as distinct and cerulean as the water on the beach Sofia and I used to walk along together.

But just then....I heard her voice behind me. The familiar consonant tone, subdued like ballads arise from behind me.

"Are you really going in there?"