The days were mostly quiet. No one around me payed me so much as a peep in my direction. The adjected loneliness was wearing me thin, gradually draining my energy and will to live. To alleviate this feeling somewhat, I volunteered to help out with the chores around the farm. My days mostly consisted of me waking up at the crack of dawn, sluggish with sleep lolling in my eyes, and working from sun-up until sun-down, all to occupy my mind from wandering in places that should never be explored.

Sweat trailed down the side of my face as I dumped another square of hay. Feeling slightly sore, I sat on it for a few moments of rest. It was hot, the barn stuffy from the heat of the afternoon sun. My eyes, idle, scanned the area as I fanned myself. There was never much to look at, nothing but wooden walls, and an entrance to see the azure sky guide the lazy clouds along its path. It was serene at first, picturesque even, but after countless days of basically entertaining myself, serene became monotonous.

I sighed. What should I do after this? My mind flickered through all the tasks I've done so far. I glanced out the window, the view of the stable in my peripheral. Maybe I could tend to the horses again…?

No, Maria said she would do that today. Grab some firewood for tonight? Ah, but I'd have to wait for Agnes to chop up the wood and she's not back from the market yet. I cradled my chin between the valley of my hands, their sweat moistening my cheeks. Then how about-

"Oh, there you are!" Maria rushed in, carrying a small package. She dangled it in front of me. "I need you to deliver this to Mrs. Becker." She plopped the package in my hands and turned to scurry out of the doorway.

My head tilted. "What is it?" The sound of my voice jerked Maria to a halt. Her body stilled, eyes sliding back to me with cautiousness encircling in them.

"Some cooking utensils. It's a thank-you gift for her showing us that pie recipe the other day." Her body was still facing the exit, muscles tense. "You enjoyed it…didn't you?"

My tongue relived the taste of blueberry bursting in my mouth, its acidic juices enveloping my taste buds with tangy zest. The irrevocable trace of cream lingering thereafter, the smooth flavor simultaneously performing with the golden crust as they serenade me through a crunch. Their unique, delectable parts harmonized to create a heavenly dish. I can still remember the delightful scent wafting to my nose, enticing me to partake in a bite that changed my life for the better.

My mouth developed into a soft curve. "Yeah…I did."

Maria's posture relaxed, but not by much. She seemed on edge, alert. At what? I'm not too sure myself, but I'm guessing it has something to do with the isolation from my mother. "Well, with that being said," she began, her eyes trailing back to the door, "You know what to do. Be back before sundown." At her final directions, she took her cue and scampered out of the barn.

I glanced down at the package in my hand, eyebrows raised.

Well, at least I found something to do.

(X)

Mud squished out from under my boots as I followed along the path to Mrs. Becker's house. Despite the sunny temperament now, it had rained overnight. Such is the way of summer weather, I guess. There were puddles this morning, but they definitely have dried up by now. Especially, in this heat. I could feel the slickness of my sweat merge my shirt to my back.

Ugh, gross.

As I wiped off my latest drop of sweat, I saw the house pop up in the distance. Thank god! I can take refuge from the sun now! I hastened my pace to get out of the blistering heat as soon as possible. Though in all honesty, it wasn't that much better inside. The technological state of this country made it so that there wasn't any air conditioning inside of buildings. Your best options were to open windows and hope for the best or to stay around bodies of water to cool off.

"Still," I thought, wiping away another trail of sweat, "Anything is better than staying directly under the sun." The shape of the house grew bigger and bigger as I moved closer towards it. It was a moderately sized cabin hunched between two giant oak trees. Flashes of personality riddled the cabin when I was within a closer perimeter. An example being a wind chime hung up on the porch right next to a wooden rocking chair. A huge pile of wood was strewn about the side of the house, and an axe sat unused in the corner; cobwebs were covering both the axe and the wall. I guess she's too old to chop wood now.

When I reached the front porch, the steps groaned under my feet, making my presence well known to those nearby. I paused for a bit, hoping that she heard so that I didn't have to knock. Unfortunately, the door stayed closed. Of course. I finished my walk up the steps and knocked on the door.

Nothing.

I tried again three more times, but to no avail. I was just about to give up and go home when I heard the sound of shuffling through one of the windows. I inched towards the noise, the sound becoming more discernable the closer I got. I stopped at the edge of the window, hesitation taking form in my gut. Should I really infringe on someone's privacy? Or should I turn around and go home? Before I could weigh my options, a crash ended up answering for me.

"Oh dear!" a voice exclaimed through the window. "That was the fifth one this week." I peeked through the window to find a brown plate cropped into little pieces all over the floor. The woman cleaning up the mess was all but shaggy in her appearance. Her dark grey hair was thin and straw-like, spiraling out of control from under her bandana. Her dress was a damp brown color, reminding me of the mud puddles I slogged in to get here. The glasses on her face had a crack down the middle on the left side. I guess she couldn't afford new ones. Or maybe they're just not ready yet at the shop. A startled gasp drew me out of my thoughts. She was looking right at me. Oh right, a stranger looking into someone's house was not only rude, but creepy.

Shit.

"Aww, aren't you a little doll, love?" she cooed.

That's right, I'm not a grown woman in her thirties; I'm a little girl. A beautiful one at that.

That little fact keeps slipping by me somehow.

"Are you Mrs. Becker?" I asked as I smiled cheekily. Might as well put these looks to use and turn up the charm. Maybe she even has some of that pie leftover.

She lowered her body to my level. "Of course, that's me love, and who might you be?"

I curtsied a little. "My name is Historia. My household wanted to thank you for the pie with this gift."

Her face brightened at the info. "Aw, how delightful! Thank you so much!" She handled the utensils with the utmost precision and care. "I'll be sure to treasure these."

I clasped my hands together in mock enthusiasm. "That makes Historia happy!"

I swore, I saw hearts form into her eyes. "Aren't you a cutie! Did you enjoy the pie, little one?"

"Historia thought the pie was yummy!" I beamed, notably not in mock enthusiasm. That pie was the best thing I've ever had, both in this life and the previous one.

Mrs. Becker placed her hand on her chest, her eyes sparkling with joy. "That makes me so happy to hear! I have some more treats inside; would you like some?"

Drool was practically escaping from my mouth. "Yes, please!"

I walked home with a belly full of treats and still some to spare! I cradled the cookies in my handkerchief like it was the holy grail itself. These next few days are going to be sweeter; I can tell.

Then as if God had come down from heaven itself to laugh at me, something flew through the air and hit my hand, causing my cookies to be knocked out of my grasp.

Splat

There they were. My precious babies laid to ruin in the disgusting mud. It was as if my trials of trudging all the way there were for naught; a mockery of my efforts. Anger set fire to my veins, my face turning red the more I stared at what was lost.

My hope. My joy. My little ounce of happiness in this constantly dreary hellpit I call a life. Gone for good.

"Who dare," I growled, "WHO DARES!?"

Smarmy laughter trickled out from the bushes. Recognition hit me as I listened. It was bitch-tits and the motley crew of rejects. Those assholes who like to throw rocks at me while I worked.

"Good afternoon, Bitchstoria," Fuckface #1 said as he bounced a rock on his palm with ease, "we saw you walking by your lonesome self and decided to remedy that by graciously making you our target practice."

Fuckface #2 sauntered over towards my fallen brethren and smirked. "Aw, did we hit the baby's cookies? Our bad."

"Yeah," Fuckface #3 chimed in, "we meant to hit you!"

That was their cue to throw me into the mud pile. Pain flooded my shoulder as I flopped down hard in the mud, the sludge covering every crevice of my body. Their irritating snickers ate away at my dignity, leaving no room for patience.

Ugh, for fuck's sakes!

"I swear," I gritted out, "one day you will all bow down to me, and regret what you have done for the rest of your life."

That caused their snickering to deform into howling laughter.

"Us," #1 cackled while holding his stomach, "to you!"

"Get real!"

"Is she as crazy as she is ugly!?"

"Laugh all you want," I rebutted, "but all you lot will ever amount to will be stable hands, while I'll be living it up like a queen."

The laughter stopped instantly at that.

Before I realized what was happening, a kick was administered to my abdomen from the lovely fuckface #1.

"What did you say, bitch?" he spat as he yanked my muddied hair.

#2 stomped on my stomach. "I think she volunteered for some more target practice."

"Well what are we waiting for?" supplied #3, "Let's give it to her then."

I wish I could say that I was strong and fierce, and that I put up a fight that made them respect me. But Historia's body is small and frail.

Poor me never stood a chance.

After lying in pain for about two hours, I finally willed myself to limp back to the farm.

Everybody watched my dirty and injured form enter the barn, but made no move to help me. In fact, they just went on back to ignoring me. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. This world can eat my ass.

I lugged myself onto the haystack for rest before I got up to ravage the medical supply cabinet. Why oh why did that have to be located in the house? No one had the foresight to have a spare set of supplies in the barn? Goddamnit!

Although the pain still lingered, it slowly ebbed away into dull aches as I slowed my breathing. The silence of the barn lulled me into dreamless state of rest. Though strangely enough, I felt as if someone was there with me, humming away at a distinctly familiar tune.

Where have I heard it before?

Strays of sunlight filtered through the barn doors and managed to hit my eyes. I awoke with a groan. The mud had dried on my skin and hair, making me feel all gross and sticky. I need a bath. Pushing myself off the haystack made me notice something about myself. There were bandages on my person. Someone snuck into the barn last night and tended to me while I was unconscious. As sweet as that sounds on the surface level, I can't help but feel weary. What benefit is there to tending to my wounds? And who was it?

Something is amiss on this farm.

Or was it someone?