-*| The Cursed World |*-

Chapter Nine: I guess We've Grown

(8 years later...)

Mom pulls the corset tight. I see her smiling in the mirror, and hesitantly, I give a smile back. Today is the day we will be married off.

The last couple years have been a whirlwind. Those days would go by quick, with the same routine each time. Nothing too notable; besides the random gaps in my memory, which I could never seem to remember what I did, but only the result.

Now, Clover and I are grown, and are to be married off. Well, Clover is grown. Dad does not want me in the house any longer, as Mom is having a baby, and he says that I will contaminate he or she.

Not that I mind. Clover and I are best friends!

I have also learned two new numbers -- 18 and 16. Clover is 18, and by our laws, that means she is an adult. I am 16. Sure, this feels young, but Mom says that some girls are married off at 11 or 12, once they get their periods. I don't really know those numbers, but they are smaller than 16, so this is not all that bad.

Mom pats me on the shoulder, and points to my waste in the mirror. "Curvy, and more pure,"

She whispers to me. I nod. The corset is really tight, though. I remember her rules on how to support our husband, and one of those is to fulfill his desires. I guess a girl with a waste between 2 and 8, as those are the smallest numbers I know, somehow makes them... fulfilled.
Clover peeks through the door.

She wears a green dress that perfectly matches her eyes. Mine is brown.

"He's here," She whispers, as Dad booms the same words, but much louder.

I stay frozen, and Clover has to grab my hand to make me go. I am worried; we have never met this man before. What is he like?
Will I fulfill his desires?

We go down the stairs. For the first time, in I don't really remember, Mom pulls us in for a hug. Her swelled stomach makes this harder, yet still manageable. Dad ruffles Clover's hair, but he won't look at me.

I realize this is the last time I will ever see them.

The door opens, and we are rushed outside. This is the first time I have ever been outside!

Sure, I have sat in the sun by the window while tending to the flowers, but it feels more... Alive, here. Little bees buzz by, and a couple butterflies and little red bugs, which I have seen inside, called ladybugs, crawl on the walls.

A bird suddenly sweeps through the sky, and takes one of the butterflies by Its beautiful wings, befere flapping off with its kill, That is when I notice a black carriage, Its hard shape sticks out from our soft, fluffy grass, happy, colorful flowers, and bright blue, cloudless sky. Some dirty-coat is sitting in the driver's seat. Two horses, who look overworked and weary, wait impatiently to drive us off.

A rounded, wrinkled man, waits by where an open door lays. I wonder who he is. — That gut feeling I got from when I first met Dad came back to me when I looked at this man.

He leans on the door of the carriage; beckoning us to come forward. A twisted grin rests on his face. Whoever he is... I don't trust him.

I look behind my shoulder, to look for Mom or Dad. However, they are gone. I know that I won't ever see them again. Thus, this is the life of us girls here. We must play our part in our community.

I take Clover's hand again, and she gives me a squeeze. We walk towards the man, and he shuts the door tightly behind us. Now locked away from the home I have always known; banished from the flower-people's village.

He sits across from us. I hear the man in the driver's seat slap the horses hard with the reins, and we are off. Truly gone, now.

'Change can be good, though,' I tell myself.

I look out of the window for a bit. We live on the boarder of our tribe, so the landscape gets real tottery with winding roads that lead to a dizzying drop into the abyss between the mountains.

Truly, I never feel that our community is apart of the tribe, or any of the three others. Mom has always said we have moved apart because they were too rash in their decisions, so this is a good thing.

Clover gives my hand another squeeze. This man in front of us hasn't uttered a single word. Instead, he chooses to stare at her chest. His arm rests over his thighs and hips.

I can feel her discomfort from this man coming off in waves. I give her hand another squeeze, and stare at the man hard with my yellowish eyes. I have been told the color of them is intimidating and disturbing, as no white-coat should have my eye color. This guy is no different.

He stops smiling, and looks away from her chest. He has greasy hair that must have originally been blond, but from the excessive grease now looks brown. This man definitely is not the.. prettiest.

He scratches the flabby neck, and cleared his throat. "Ahem, hello, my ladies. I am Lord Sun, your soon-to-be husband."

The weddings in Breeze Tribe — The old fashioned weddings in Breeze Tribe are never too informal. The wives get a feast at their husband's home, and then back to our duties.

He offers his hand for a shake, but only to Clover. Awkwardly she takes it, but he ends up kissing her hand, and leaving it by his mouth.

'At least he has.. manners?'

I turn my head back to the window.

I don't think — No, I know — that I am not ready for this. For growing up.