"Jill, get up sweety." A voice echoes after a few strong knocks, "You slept till noon, you need to get up and get some fresh air and sunlight." 

I groan, pushing my blanket to the side and rubbing my eyes to get rid of all the grit and grim from them as I yawn, "Sorry Auntie, getting up." Zombie-like I wobble to my bathroom and fumble with the doorknob curseing lightly under my breath as it refuses to open. Finally, I stumble inside, almost banging my head against a wall. Today is not my day is it? 

Splashing cold water across my face, the refreshing shock wakes me up as well as a morning caw from a rooster does. Dabbing my face dry, and tameing my wild back hair I quickly braid my straight locks into a tight French braid that wraps over my shoulder and ends by my belly. My unruly fluffy bangs won't brush right, and I gave up. 

I fidget with my braid, feeling close to Mom. Whenever I wasn't feeling well, or had to be stuck in the hospital Mom would brush my hair and braid it while humming and singing to me. Her voice was so sweet and soft like that of a bassy clarinet. She told me I was alright and that after this last set of tests, she'd get me some ice cream. I just had to be a brave girl for a little bit longer. 

I miss Mom a lot... I was nine when I was sent here permanently. Jewel my little sister tried to braid my hair but she's atrocious. So I took to the internet and found videos on hair braiding to practice it until I could even rival Mom in terms of skill.

A teasing smile spreads over my face, my sharp almond-shaped hazel eyes sparkling just like Mom's would whenever she was playful. I touch my fluffy cheeks, my strong nose, and cupid lips. As I've grown older I feel closer to Mom because I am her carbon copy. I wished that I also had my mom's skin tone and her healthy body. I would have this nice brown tone like my other siblings, but I ended up with sickly yellow and this dule pale brown. 

I have a ridiculously thin frame, even with all the muscles I ruthlessly fought to gain. My collarbone sticks out, my hips bones burst past skin, and my thin bony hands look like that of a wicked witch. If the wind so much as blows in my direction I'd fall over and roll for miles. I flinch at the thought. I hate looking at myself, it reminds me of how sick I am. No amount of exercise, medicine, or diet will keep this body from slowly decaying like some living corps. 

Shaking my head of darker thoughts, I ruffle under the messy sink to find my large black duffle bag. And like I do every single day, I counted my pills, measured my liquids, and prepared the needles. Those I could drink I put to the side with my pills, and those I had in injection went to the other side with the needles. It's a ten-minute process of me pulling them out, taking them, and then putting them back in. Last I grab a much smaller child-size purse that's shaped like a bunny, it's once bright pink fur now a dull grey. Its fuzzy cheeks have dried up and are no longer squishy. I keep it because Daddy gave it to me. 

I threw a fit a lot as a kid, not wanting to take my pills and refusing the nasty drinks. Daddy saw this bunny and bought it for me. He told me that this was a special bunny, one that would make all my medicine taste like candy. He had put real candy inside, and every time I took a pill or a drink I'd get a piece of chocolate. Over time, it became incredibly precious to me. Instead of holding my hoard of medicine, I only have in it a few sets of emergency pills, my inhaler, and an Ipod. 

I leave the bathroom for my bedroom. I've lived here long enough to make this room truly mine. Posters of bands, wrestlers, boxers, and more hang on the walls. I have a nice steel desk with a fuzzy black bunny-shaped rug underneath my computer chair. Cacti hang out on my window, along with cool-looking objects I've randomly found in the orchard like bones, rocks, and cool metal pieces. I have a bookcase but rather than books it's filled mostly with DVDs and magazines. Pushing open my closet I dance out of the way of my dirty pile of clothes that topple over. I'll have to shove it back up again before Auntie sees it. 

I squat picking out a recently used black crop top with a white rabbit image, and then a pair of yoga pants. I'll bribe Jewel to get my clothes clean. I have that snake skin I found a few days ago, she'll gladly make a deal for it. 

Out of my room, the smell of bacon and eggs waffs up the stairs and through the hallway. Is Auntie making brunch? She must have gotten a craving for bacon, let's just hope she doesn't do what she did last time. Bacon, pickles, raspberry jam, and peanut butter sandwich. Who puts those things together, even pregnant as she is?!

I quickly walk down the stairs, and push my way into the kitchen. It is an old-style kitchen with a huge dining room overlooking a patio. Humming to herself, a little off-key, is my Aunt packing piling high on a plate sandwiches for the ranch hands, and a huge pitcher of lemonade. For herself and Uncle she has bacon, eggs, pickles, peanut butter, and toast. 

I walk over taking a sandwich bitting into it. It tastes so good!  Mayo cooked bread with fresh ham and cheese, lettuce from the garden, and her homemade mustard. No one can beat her cooking!

My hand is slapped with the flat of a spoon, "It's not time to eat yet!" Auntie teasingly scolds. 

She's a beautiful woman, her bright blue eyes jewels radiating in the presence of her sunkissed hair that flutters downwards like golden feathers. She's a jovial woman, built like a mountain goddess with huge hips, big breasts, and a baby-filled belly. 

"Can't help it, your food is too good." I take another bite, dodging the next blow. "Where's Uncle and the others?" 

"The storm last night broke some trees. Mathew and Jack have been outside with the ranch hands since the storm broke. I'm sure that their stomachs will lead them back home soon. She places the plate on the table, "Hopefully before the food chills..." She looks out the window to the field, "Maybe you can go out and get them." 

"I don't mind," I look around, "Where's Jewel?"

"She was busy with house chores this morning, I sent her off to get the chicken eggs so I can make some fresh bread for dinner." She pats my head, "Can you go get her too? That girl gets distracted by anything that moves." 

"True that," As I finish off my sandwich and dodge dogs I open the porch door to step outside. It's a good day, a fresh breeze pulling the rain's fresh scent. In the distance there's a large black cloud, not really that big maybe the size of a house. It might rain a little bit, but I kinda doubt it. 

A little ruff to the side draws my attention. "Minno!" I call out, kneeling to rub the oldest most adorable ugly mutt I've ever seen. She's been with me since childhood. She's this medium-sized dog as fluffy as a baby chicken. She's the mother of most of the dogs in the orchard. She and the other dogs protect us from coyotes, foxes, and the occasional bear. Pulling out a bacon, I snagged for her. She takes it with a sassy huff. "Wanna come with me?" 

Her dark brown eyes shimmer behind the cataracts, giving me an old-spirited sigh as she trails after me. 

While we are walking I notice a speck in the distance getting bigger and bigger until I recognize Uncle running full sprint towards the house. He sees me, slowing down. He bends over to give Minno a few pets. "Hey, Kiddo." 

"Hey Uncle," I sass back.

"Were you about to come get us?" 

"Foods all ready," I point at the house, "Did you really leave all the hard work for Jack and the men to do?" 

Uncle blushes, "They offered first." His phone jiggles and he pulls it out. He reads the message and makes this 'oh shit' face. I wiggle over, peeking at his phone. Jack has sent him pictures of the fence and river. Both look pretty bad, "What are you gonna do about this?" 

Uncle tugs at his beard, "It'll take the whole community to fix the dam." He pats my head, "You better go get them, by the time you get there they should be finished. Hopefully." 

I snort, "Maybe. Which way?" 

"Eastbound, towards the river." Uncle yells jogging once more.

"Thanks," I call after him, "Who should I get first, Minno?" Minno only huffs strolling through the trees to the broken fence. "Smart, it'll be quickest getting Jack first." I let out a laugh, "Wait for me!"