FOUR

LILY’s POV

It is decided. I am to venture downhill in search of a doctor. Or a pharmacist. Or anyone who can sell us some fucking medicine. Father’s wounds are badly infected and he needs help. Mother has warned me to be careful. We have not told anyone from our village, lest they try to stop us. But how would they know the pain and rage that torments us at this moment? How do they know the agony that father has to bear every second? How would they know? How can they know? They are not the ones who were brutally tortured and had their bones broken, nor are they the ones who were whipped until their skin tore with a poisoned whip. They would never understand. I have to go, there is no other way.

It is the witching hour now and father’s fever is getting worse.

“I love you,” mother whispers as she hugs me tightly in the tiny bedroom that Rose and I share. She does not want to let go and I have to pry her fingers away.

I am scared shitless, but I put on my bravest smile and tie up my chocolatey brown hair into a tight ponytail, “Don’t worry mother. You know I’m fast on my feet.”

That is true, I am one of the fastest runners in our village. That is if you take the men out of the equation. Rose looks on from the straw bed where she sits. Little Thomas is curled up next to her, snoring softly away. Under the soft warm glow of the single candle that lights our room, I am unable to read Rose’s expression, but I can tell that she does not agree with what I am about to do.

“This is a suicide,” she says flatly, not mincing her words. That’s Rose for you; beauty with thorns.

I sigh, exasperated and throw my hands up in the air, “Then what would you have me do? Let father die?”

At this, mother covers her calloused hands in her sunken face, trying to choke back her sobs. Misery spews from her eyes in the form of tears. She is breaking down; mentally, emotionally and physically and I cannot bear to see her like this, more so than I can bear to see father suffer. Rose keeps quiet after this and turns her head away, but as she does, I hear her mutter softly under her breath, “Come back in one piece.”

I walk over to the bed and tuck Thomas’ blanket over his little frame. The boy does not stir, he is sound asleep.

“Take care of them,” I whisper into Rose’s ear before walking out the room. Mother sinks onto the bed, she is unable to see me off.

“I’ll be back before dawn,” I say and walk out of our humble home. No one answers as I close the creaky wooden door behind me.

Once outside, I let out a long deep sigh and my breath fogs up in the air. Above, the stars twinkle and dance to an invisible rhythm. I pull my jacket tighter, it is my father’s padded green jacket, much too big for me, but I spoilt my only other jacket when I stumbled upon the stranger the other day. So this will have to do for now.

“Lord, have mercy on me,” I whisper a tiny prayer, bringing my icy cold hands to my lips as I stare at the bright round globe that frames the sky.

It is time. I begin my descent down the hill and into the pits of hell.

***

All is quiet when I finally reach the ground and step out of the woods. A narrow muddy path leads me to an open space, where an almost deserted parking lot welcomes me. A few street lights shine on a lone dilapidated single-story building.  A torn signboard hangs above it.

‘OWEN’s PHARMACY’ it says, with some lightbulbs flickering and shining pathetically at the torn and tattered signboard. Owen has probably seen better days. This pharmacy is my only hope now. I do not want to venture any further.

I scan the place once more, the surrounding fields seem to stretch into infinity. There is no other presence save for a nice and sleek looking car parked right in front of the pharmacy. It better belongs to Owen the pharmacist.

Quickly, I sprint towards the shop and to my surprise, I find the glass door to the shop unlocked, even though the lights are off. I try to peer in through the glass door but it is full of dirt and grime. Even if the lights are turned on, I probably will not be able to see anything.

My heart goes thump thump thump.

I need to stay calm. Maybe Owen the pharmacist just wanted to save on electricity. God knows the mafia are charging us a hand and foot for everything.

I push the door and it squeaks open, announcing my presence to the world.

Great.

“Hello?” I call out softly as I step inside. My hand remains at the door, with one foot out. I will bolt at the first sign of danger.

The place is chilly and my voice echoes through the shop.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I call out again. Why is my hand trembling?

No answer. Something’s not right. I should run, but I cannot. Father needs medical supplies.

Cautiously I inch forward again. The door creaks to a close behind me and instinctively I turn my head around to see if anyone is behind me.

There is no one. Silly me!

My heart is beating wildly from all my imagination. I reach for the small kitchen knife tucked behind my jeans. 

“I need medication. My father is hurt…” I call again. This time, a muffled sound comes from behind the counter and my heart skips a beat.

Oh, God. Please don’t let it be the mafia. Maybe I should just leave.

And just as my hand reaches for the doorknob once more, a voice calls out, freezing me in my tracks, “Hello.”