Prologue

The sun was at its peak, engulfing everything in the yellow, hot rays. The ground was unbearably hot, cracks forming in the sand due to the drought. There was one miracle on this particular hot day, and it included the taste of clean water. A massive queue was formed. All people were desperate to fill their bottles, buckets, and other makeshift vessels with water. The large square behind the village was visited daily by hundreds of people, travelling for miles and miles to fill their buckets. For me and my family it is considered as a short trip, it takes us about 2 hours and 30 minutes to reach the well.

But it never only takes 2 hours and 30 minutes. Hours and hours are wasted because of the crowd. Finally, when it was our turn to fill the buckets with water, the queue had only grown more. With our muscles flexed and veins popping up, we carried the buckets to our hut.

We did this everyday, I would do it alone, with my little sisters or with my little brothers. Most of the time really, it was me who did the chores, got water from the well and cooked dinner, for as far there was food. My mother is too weak, my father is never around, and my siblings are too young. It is tough to be the oldest, to have responsibilities, but most of all, the amount of weight that has been put on my shoulders is massive. I have learned throughout the years; how to cook a proper meal, when there were still sufficient ingredients around. How to carry all the water necessary in one go, on my own.

But most of all I learned to never go outside when the sun is at its peak. Not only because the ground is too hot for my feet, but also because everybody will go and get their water at that very point.

I would go late at night, or early in the morning. It wasn’t dark anymore in the morning, but when the roosters were still asleep I had already left my hut. People would look at me with weird expressions whenever I returned with the buckets of water before half of the city had woken up. It was just how I lived my life, and nothing could break my spirit.

All of a sudden, I felt a bony hand on my shoulder, shaking my shoulder lightly. My mother woke me up every single day. She would never sleep or at least that is what she told us ever since we were little. I swiftly grabbed a piece of old bread and stuffed it in my mouth, the buckets already waiting for me. My hand tightly gripped unto the little handles and I quietly hummed a childhood song as I walked down the road.

150 minutes later I arrived at the well, there were some people here and there. Horses tied to a post whilst their owners were drinking something, leaving the animals dehydrating and thirsty for the clear liquid.  The horses had sores on their backs where the saddle lies on their withers. Scars running on their flanks, some open, some already turned into pale, white lines.  A lonely cat walked on the sand, it’s bones sticking out, fur dull.

The moment when the water slightly flowed over the side I realised it was full enough. And I dropped the wooden bucket back into the depths of the well. With two large buckets I walked back to the complicated system of alleys and roads.

I am never afraid when I walk on the street, I always feel safe. I turned a right, I turned a left until I reached one of the shortcuts. I could go through this alley or I could walk on the road. I walked into the alley itself, it was always dark, debris scattered on the ground. It was always aquiet, no one ever came here, except for rodents searching for leftovers, or a stray dog taking shelter.

A large frame loomed up in front of me, I couldn’t see the person’s face and assumed he was turned around. A gasp escaped my mouth, making him turn around. A frown formed on his face, his hand moved to his mouth, it looked like he was thinking hard.

My intuition told me to get the hell out of here, but then I heard him talking to me and for some reason I waited. ‘What is a girl of your age doing here?’ he asked, a prominent accent accentuating the r’s. He looked intimidating, like he could snap me in two in the blink of an eye. ‘That’s none of your business’ I said insecurely. It was meant to sound like he didn’t bother me, instead I sounded like a little mouse. ‘Tsk, Tsk. Haven’t your parents told you it is not polite to talk to people like that’. After that he turned around again, leaving me scared to death. I speed walked away from the alley, turning every second, checking if he was following me. I took the alley next on the right, and I was shocked to discover I was not alone.

It looked like the men’s eyes were filled with the colour of a clear blue sky. His eyebrows raised as he walked towards me, a deep chuckle followed. He was pale, almost like milk. I dropped my buckets, the precious water splattered everywhere, and the buckets landed on the ground with a thump. He roughly grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the farthest corner. I tried to block out the sounds, I tried to be blind. One very specific noise I heard, was the sound of metal clanking on the ground. To be more specific, a belt falling on the ground.    

... To be continued ...