"Mother?"
"Yes, my love?"
"Mother…"
"Yes, my love?"
"Mother…" Emilija, the fated child, gently spoke. Her head shifted in her mother's lap, letting her hair fall to the side. Happiness glimmered in her blazing blue eyes—the happiness of being able to speak and seeing her mother's eyes filled with relief.
"Yes, my love?"
The mother smiled, caressing her daughter's ashen hair, stroking her cheek, but the child lazily lay on her lap. Her following words caused even the mother to become shocked, but that didn't last long.
"Mother… I need an army to invade."
The mother smiled, looking out the hotel's window, towards the distant sea and waves. She knew there would come a time but never believed it would so soon, but sadly, it was one thing she couldn't help her daughter with.
"If you want an army, make one of your own."
"But I am just six years old."
"And that has never stopped you before," The mother gazed into the child's eyes, stroking her hair aside.
The child turned and sat up, gazing blankly at the roof above the bed, "I do not understand people. They are harder to understand than mathematical equations or simple secrets of the universe."
The mother dropped forward on the bed, pulling her daughter in a hug. She kissed her head and said these words, "My child, you must understand one thing. We all are but cogs in a machine. If you cannot do something on your own, then find a gear that would turn to fulfill that purpose for you, and if you cannot do something else, then one for that, and one to do away with your loneliness. We'd be all alone if we were perfect, my love."
The child turned in her mother's arms, her mind started to wander, and she asked, "As mother and father spoke for me when I couldn't…does that mean now that I can, I will be left alone? If so, then this voice I do-"
"Do not say that my child," The mother closed her eyes, planting her lips on the child's forehead, "I love your voice."
The child closed her eyes, resting in her mother's arm; tomorrow, her journey was to commence. Her eyelids trembled, wondering, does the one in the forest get to rest?
Much nearer to her than the last time, the child in the forest had stopped crying. She sat on the ladders, leaning back, her eyes trembled, but she kept them open, not wanting to rest. She didn't have nightmares of the dead, nor it was like she didn't have a good sleep. The river gave her water, the animals brought her food, and now even the books.
The forest was kind to her, but it was even her warden; she couldn't manage it, but it heard her requests. She ducked and hid, and the forest helped her hide from the invader's sight. Still, she heard everything, and their names allowed her to form a message.
She wondered if anyone could hear her cry out loud, her shout, hidden from the forest's ears. But knowing of the outside world made her wonder if she even had the right to go there.
She was a criminal and a murderer; it was her sin to bear, the one who took everything from her. She breathed in, raised her covered chin, and gazed towards the night sky, hidden from the sun's unbearable light and under the moon's lovely shine.
The trees reached the ends of the skies and shot down anything that tried to fly; it was cruel and yet comforting, the utmost product of her sin.
Days passed, and those turned weeks, and she got used to being lonely. She walked to the farm, plowing the ground and planting the seeds, every day, she watered them even though she didn't need them, and soon she began to learn other things. She went into their houses, the ones who left, and picked up their books and journals; that was all she read for months. She sat near the window, towards the crops that grew, and now that they were ready, she would harvest them and plant anew.
Once she harvested broccoli, cauliflower, carrot, and beets, she gave them to the animals in need. She took in the scent of coming summer and spring and went back to the house to dream. The nightmares didn't find her and the dreams were kind, but there was one question that kept ringing in her mind.
Will anyone hear her, will they come to save her, and if they do…then should she go?
Amara closed her eyes, resting on the chair, thinking of her father and mother.
The child, who had the strength of a few men, didn't know there was another determined to set her free.
The child born under the golden sun entered a place where it didn't reach, the Underbelly, Underworld, or Underground; there were many names for this patch of land; some said in this place lived humanity's lingering evil.
About six years old, the girl dressed like a princess stood out more. She didn't have any guards around her, yet she walked the dirty, narrow roads. It was different than anything she had ever seen; there were buildings, compact and congested. The railing was dirty, the ladders broken, and the neon lights shined until her eyes hurt.
Yet, she marched through the crowd, a few smelly, the others loud, their eyes ran over her, and many ignored her. This was the first time when she wasn't in the limelight. She gazed at the homeless and then the mother of three, each rushing, far too busy. One to earn a living, the other to do the day's work so she could be free, all for a few moments of relief. Their eyes were dark, having lost their light. The child wondered, were they satisfied with their life?
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She stood at the side of the road, watching them pass by; there were so many ways of life on just a single road. The half-dressed man shouted from the third floor, or the vendor who apologized from the road. The woman, wearing tiny tight clothes, and the one which covered all, the two boys who rode the bike, making so much noise.
She reached the next block and the one after, gazing at everyone who passed by, but none had the light or the darkness she desired, the one who would know others and what they desired better than them. She was the first piece of the army she wanted, which would grant her and that one's wish.
From day to night, and till it was again bright, she searched for the one she wanted. From one side to the other, from this place's heaven, hell or earth. From the struggling to the ones at the top, or the ones that barely made enough. She scanned through all of them, skimming through their lives, to find one she liked.
Days of search and she found one; she had a joyous yet stern light and the eyes which had seen humanity's darkness, evil, and blight. She was called Madam by the other girls, respected by each, with a lot to teach.
The Madam was young, with tawny skin, wide beautiful lips, and a curvy figure that turned the head of everyone on the road. Her smoky eyes, and long black hair, with a shade of brown, each feature was lovely. It was a Brothel she ran, and for money, bodies are what she'd sell.
The child didn't understand right and wrong or what was necessary, but she wondered why one like her would be here.
The girl stood across the street, observing the Madam and everyone she'd meet. Her striking blue eyes remained fixed, just like her feet below her. Her presence didn't go unnoticed, especially in this type of district.
The days were busy, nights even more so, but it took a few days before the Madam gave in. She came over to look at the little girl, who remained fixed at the spot, leaving for a time very little.
She bent forward, patting the gorgeous ashen hair, smiling at the kid, asking, "Do you want to work here, child? It's too early for you. Come back in a decade or two."
"I want you."
The Young Madam parted her lips, and an amused chuckled left her lips. She crouched down in front of the child, adjusting her clothes to hide her thighs, "Me? Do you have any money?"
"Money? Yes, I have. But I don't want you for one night, but whole life."
"My life," The Madam narrowed her pretty honeyed brown eyes, gazing at the girl who was too bright, "Why do you want that child?"
"I do not understand humans…."
"I can see that," The Madam chuckled.
"I do not understand them at their best, but more so at their worst. You spend days in and out, taking care of those girls, and know the guests, crazy or the other. You have seen the darkness and lust, the anger and hurt. I want you, who will tell me what they desire the most, to let me know their weakness and nature so that I can make the strongest army ever."
"Ah, you are an interesting one, child," The Madam stood up, gesturing towards the girls to bring two chairs. She held Emilija sat down on one, and herself sat on the other. She gazed towards the Brothel with a smile hanging on her lips.
"I won't lie and say that I am not intrigued by you who dreams big—the one, so young, chose to come to a place like this. But my life is here, and there are those I have to take care of. I cannot leave."
"I will buy it, their life and their safety, give them a new home, so they don't have to do this."
Madam laughed, "Ah, tell me something, child. Do you know what they even do inside?"
"Yes."
"Then do you look down on us?"
"Not really."
"Why?"
Emilija shook her head, "I should look down on what? Your struggle to live? Then I would have to look down on everyone I meet."
Madam laughed, her eyes softening, and she asked question another, "It's not that there isn't anything else that we can do for a living, the professions more respected. Then do you know why we do this?"
"No…"
The Madam breathed in, gazing at the twilight, "Because child, we are better at it than anything else in our life. This was our choice, and we plan to do it for much of our life; that is why we don't want your money or pity."
"Pity…it's not," Emilija's eyes turned towards the ground, her hands gripped on her white, frilly skirt, "I wish to understand. Will you help me or not?"
The Madam glanced towards the young girl, sighing, "Fine child, if you have money, you can buy me, but I have a few conditions. One, it's not just me, but every one of them, and for two, earn money on your own. From the bottom to the top."
"I can't," The girl refused without even thinking, surprising the Madam who was on her knee, "why?"
"To make money, you need to sell, and to sell, you need to know what they want. I don't know, so I don't know what to sell; even if I knew what and made it, I wouldn't know-how. So I can't earn money on my own, so I will ask you to invest."
"Invest?"
"Yes, help me earn money so I can buy you all. I want you in my army, no matter what."
The Madam burst out in laughter, standing up, patting her head, "Fine, fine, then so be it. I will help you make money to buy me for life and others. Since you are buying, how about I introduce you to the product?"
The child held the hand of the Madam, hearing the two girls standing behind them chuckle. She blinked, gazing down, and whispered, "I… wish you wouldn't call them products."
The girls behind her laughed even more, and Madam shook her head, holding back her smile, "You have a lot to learn, child."
The child looked up with eager eyes to take the first steps, while the other learned to cook in that time. She had so much to learn, so much that others left behind, and cooking was at the top of her list.
After much trial, she took the first step, raising the mask that covered her face, tasting the food that reminded her of her mother, "Mother…."
It was finally there, tasting just like what her mother made. It was perfect, maybe not even that great, but it was home a beloved taste. Proud of herself, she jumped down the stool, rushing to the dining table to see the list.
She still had to learn many tasks, but she was happy that she was done with more than one. Once sewing, stitching, cooking, gardening, and yoga were out of the way, she got ready for her seventh birthday. When the day arrived, she made a cake, one with seven layers at that. She wheeled it outside, carefully putting aside before raising the table above her head, and she moved the cake next.
She sat down on the stairs, watching the cake and the candles, with a smile hanging on her lips. She watched the fire, the cake that high, whispering, "I made…cake for everyone."
The child waited and waited, but no one came, the candled died out, and wax spread on the cake. She pressed her lips, looking down with disappointed eyes when no one came, "What did I expect? This is all hopeless."
The child let out a saddened smile, getting up on her feet, going inside, leaving the cake for animals to eat. She went inside, to her bed, and fell on the soft mattress, and soon the curtain fell.
They trembled, hiding inside the mask, her turquoise eyes gazed afar, her ears perked hearing the voice, and the knock on the door made her sit upright. She hastened, running through the corridor, wondering who was outside that door. Her hand clenched the knob, turning it so hard that it almost broke off. She peered out the door with a lot of hope,