Something's amiss, Alara thought when she noticed that the door was ajar. That's strange. I definitely locked the door before I left. Why is it ajar?

Locking and bolting her home's main door securely was a practice that she did routinely as few poor Excidiums could actually afford to own one, especially for their own home. Goosebumps suddenly surfaced on her skin when a memory made its way past through the formidable thresholds of her mind.

"Noo! Derrick! MY HUSBAND! NOO!" Louisa, an elderly neighbour of hers hollered as she sunk to her knees in defeat. "NOO!"

On-lookers gasped and offered whispers of unheard sympathies to the now-widow, and Alara hated that she was one of them. But what was she to do? She was so young, still at the 'single-digit' phase of life as her Mama put it, and could not do anything but watch as Louisa begged the Gods to return her husband's soul to his empty body.

I have to do something, young Alara thought as she braved herself to be closer to Louisa. "Aunty Louisa, are you ok-"

The old lady whimpered when Alara patted her shoulder. She screamed like a banshee at the sight of her, calling her a thief and a person deserving of Hell. "GIVE ME BACK MY HUSBAND, YOU SON OF A GOVERNOR-"

The sounds of birds' chirping pulled her out of the memory, saving her from being trapped in the late Aunt Louisa's pain. Shortly after her husband's death, Louisa had set her house alight and trapped herself in it.

The screams of Aunty Louisa as the flames ravaged her was one that she'll never forget.

A suicide happened because she could not deal with the death of her husband. Her husband passed because of the most ridiculous reason: they were too poor to purchase a door lock for their home. What should have been a commodity was a rarity for the poor because the Governors did not care for them, in spite of their promise to 'govern' them properly.

Nevertheless, ever since the death of her neighbours, Alara had invested in those precious door locks for she feared that her mother would meet the same fate- that of a thief barging in and killing her when the thief was discovered stealing the little possessions that they have. When she had found out the cause for Uncle Derrick's murder, she had pestered Jonek for one as soon as she could afford a main door.

As Alara neared her house door, pungent smells wafted through the air. To Alara's horror, it was not long when she realised that the stench was the rotting smell of blood. Fear gripped her heart and she couldn't help but hesitate like a coward before she eventually stepped into her own home, her neurotic mind already entertaining the countless possibilities possible.

She had never been more thankful that she'd left her expensive herbs outside as the moment she was in her home, she was suddenly wrecked with a sharp pain. Caught off-guard by the pain, Alara lost her footing and fell onto the cold ground as a result.

It's coming again... Alara pulled her hair tightly as if trying to fight back against the dark beast. Sadly, she became a victim to be the beast- a beast that she could not conquer ever since she met it.

"Mama!" "REN!"

"NO! DON'T TAKE MY SON; HE'S JUST A BOY! "

A kick in the stomach; a groan from her. A shrill scream from Ren. Her mother, even in her frail health, crawled like a worm to get up and chase after her baby boy.

"My son, Ren, my son! PLEASE, no, please!" yelled her Mama pleadingly. "Gods, help me please."

"Gods? Gods don't exist, you half-witted moron. No wonder it's so easy to take your kid away from you!" The cruel stranger guffawed heartily as he roughly beat her frail Mama up.

"Mama! NO!"

"Stupid girl- just like your mother," and with unrestrained strength, the man smacked her hard. Alara yelled, shocked by the sudden wetness dripping down her face, crying when she felt a stinging pain.

"NO, no, no..."

The flashback vanished as soon as it had come. Whimpering, Alara stood up unsteadily as if she was intoxicated. She was honestly surprised that she could still stand when her knees were literally shaking. The moment she regained her composure, Alara felt something wet trickling down her face. Tentatively, she touched it, and released a sigh of relief when she found it to be a clear fluid.

Tears.

She hadn't realised that she'd been sobbing.

At least it's not blood... that one time, Mama had to clean my mess up even though it was her heart that had been trodden through again. Tears are better, because I would not trouble Mama again if it were only tears.

Mentally blocking out the memory, she crept to her mother, who was laying on the couch where she usually napped. It would have been a comforting sight if the couch didn't stink of blood. Worse still was the fact that her mother was clutching a crimson handkerchief tightly in her hand- a handkerchief that used to be a pretty shade of blue. Beads of cold sweat lined her Mama's forehead. Alara shuddered when she held her mother's icy hands after noting her mother's pale complexion.

Clenching her fists, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to take deep breaths to calm herself down. Ever since the life-changing incident, her family's world had been completely turned upside down.

Her mother's health dropped to a drastically steep decline and was even robbed of her former robust health and mesmerising beauty. Before, she had a slender frame and brunette curls had shaped her heart-shaped face.

Now, in stark contrast to her former gorgeous self, Cynthia Berrera was of an underweight build and her hair had lost its former radiance, becoming flat strands of strings instead. These were the result of their pitiable diet, but what could they do? With little money comes meals with little nutrition.

When her mother was in her prime, Cynthia Berrera was a woman with few bloods to her name and yet she did not look the part. This was all thanks to her talented hands.

Her hands were like magic; every strand of fabric that was graced with her touch transformed into charming pieces of art. It was all priced affordably too, and her mother had clothed herself in her artful dresses back then.

She would have made a great fortune with her unique designs if only the seamstress of a middle-class station hadn't spitefully broken her mother's left hand out of jealousy of her mother's talent.

That night when her mother had come home, her face was dark as night. Alara remembered how wordlessly she had arrived home, locked the door, and placed the few earnings on the table. Alara had questioned why her left hand was bandaged and bloodied, but her mother had remained silent as a grave.

Till this day, Alara had no clue how the middle-class seamstress had broken her mother's hand and cheery spirit.

One thing was for sure: Cynthia Berrera knew her place after the tragic incident. Gone was her confidence and artful dresses; in its place was a spiritless woman only made clothing befitting of her low-class: plain, artless clothing.

With her left hand and half her family gone, it was no surprise that she was reduced to a shadow of herself. When she wasn't working, she was sleeping. Sometimes I wonder why Mama sleeps so much. Is it for the sake of her health? Or is it because she visits father and Ren in those glorious realms of rest?

Sighing, Alara removed the bloody handkerchief from her mother's hand and washed it. It's time to put another mask on. Compartmentalise the memories and pain away- focus on Mama. She needs you right now.

"Alara, darling... You're home." Cynthia Berrera greeted her oldest daughter and last kin weakly while struggling to sit up.

Alara hated that her once strong Mama now had to take breaths in between the sentences that she uttered as she lacked the strength to complete them.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she refused to show even a hint of weakness. She needed to gather her courage, put up a brave front and comfort her mother. Just like I always have.

"It's okay, it's okay. It's merely liquid," she informed her in a soothing tone as her Mama flinched from the sight of her own bloodstains on the couch. "It's okay."

"Where's Renny? Where's my baby boy?" Confusion was a dominant emotion in her mother's eyes.The same eyes that were now searching the filthy room frantically.

She must have coughed up blood when I had gone to take the darn test. It's obvious that the cough was triggered when her mind tried to fight the memory. I have to soothe her now before her condition deteriorates again.

"Mama... I... Ren has been missing since nine years ago, Mama. You know that. The Amorals stole him from us during the Dry Season in August, 2102."

"My son! My poor boy..."

As always, after suffering from an impromptu loss of memory, Cynthia Bererra collapsed into a coughing fit and fell into a fitful, restless coma. Even in a state of unconsciousness, her eyebrows were furrowed tightly as if she was desperately trying to recall the harrowing memories.

I wish she would sleep soon, visit her dreamland and be happy there if she cannot be happy in the real world with me. And so much for soothing her nerves... Come on, Alara!

The day where her precious five-year-old brother, Ren, was cruelly stolen from them was so traumatic that after the event, her mother could barely remember anything. It was if Cynthia Berrera's own body and mind knew her so well that it blocked them as if they were trying to protect her from the inevitable heartbreak.

Alara hugged herself to her knees as she wept, lamenting and blaming herself for not being older or stronger that day.

I could've prevented it. I could've saved my family. But I was too weak and cowardly...

She focused on her mother's furrowed eyebrows while her mother slept restlessly. Alara could not imagine her mother's pain and wondered how shattered her heart was ever since her father passed on.

When her father passed away during the Blood Revolution, a huge part of her mother did too. Her mother had always been a sanguine and vivacious woman, but gradually that portion vanished, along with the part that once had many passions and interests.

Even when they had lost her father- the light of the Berrera's- her mother somehow still had unwavering strength within her to remain strong for her two beloved children. Though her mother may have changed drastically from the time when her father was alive and no longer hummed, she had still put on a smiley face everyday, even though they were rarely genuine ones. But at least back then she had taken care of them and tried to be the best mother she could be.

However, everything changed for the worse when Ren was kidnapped. When her brother was abducted by the Amorals, the mask that her mother had put on for half a decade eventually loosened and shattered into smithereens.

Even the tightest of masks breaks off when the strings holding it in place experience too much wear and tear. Like the mask, Cynthia Berrera's haunting memories had broken her so much till she had given up and forgotten how to put it back on.

While Alara accepted that harsh reality, she mourned the loss of yet another parent and confidant. Nevertheless, Alara viewed it as her duty to voluntarily take her mother's place and became her mother's caregiver and take on the role of being the sole breadwinner of the Berrera family.

I will fix this. I fix this, one day. One day, Mama, I promise you. I'll make things right. Memories of that fateful day ran through her mind. By hook or by crook, I'll get rid of all the nefarious people and Amorals so that all of us- all of us Excidiums- can finally enjoy a prosperous and wondrous life. I promise you.