The children in front of me are broken. They are absolutely broken. But they are beautiful. They are absolutely beautiful. I am with my Mama and my new baby brother. He's sweet. They are with their moms as well, but part of them is somewhere else, I can see it in their eyes. Their eyes are absolutely haunted. 

"Would it help you girls to talk about it?" Alaci asks, her eyes darkened by concern, and by horror. 

"I don't know," Calli starts. She's haunted. But I've never seen her as anything else. 

"You know what happened," Vali starts, "we've been through it before, so many times before." And isn't that the truth? These girls are what, nine years old, and they've had to live in the houses of the overclass and be their servants for months at a time, time and time again going on for years now. It's horrible and horrifying and not right, but it is what it is. We have to do whatever we can to put food on the table. 

"But still," Vali's mom Calix starts, "you guys just got back. It might help to unload some of the emotions. If you want to, that is."

"It's just, the worst thing, the worst thing isn't even the work. Well, it is, but the worst thing is missing our families."

"That's understandable," my mom says. "You girls need your families. You deserve your families."

"But that's part of what's so twisted about this whole thing," Vali starts. "When we're there, they are our families. They're not our families, and they certainly don't think that they are, but they are our families nonetheless." There is the quiet burning of rage behind her voice and for that I am so very grateful. She deserves to feel rage. 

"They ARE," Callie moans despondently. "Because the overclass adults, they're the main adults in our lives, the main adults around us, for months and months and they are the only people we have to lean on and rely on for so long."

"And we can't even lean on and rely on them," Vali adds. 

"That's horrific." Callie's mom Amaki does not have any lightness behind her voice. It's all deep, heavy devastation. And I understand. I understand why she's so devastated. 

"We can't rely on them, but they're the only ones we have to rely on, they're the only ones there." Vali's voice is wracked. 

"I understand," my mother starts. "You guys are children. And, as children, you need adults around you. You need adults to be your parents. And the adults that are around you, the adults that are near you, well, they fill that role. Whether they want to or not, whether you want them to or not, they fill that roll."

"I hate being a child," Vali states ruefully. 

"Well," Alaci starts, "you guys are children. And you deserve to be treated well, you deserve to be protected, you deserve to be treated like children."

"I know it's hard," I start, "and neither of you guys deserved any of that. Nobody deserves any of that. But maybe it would help a little bit to remember that you guys are loved, you guys are loved so much, by all of us back here in the slums. We love you and we think about you and we miss you. We miss you so much. And your parents miss you so much. I'm sure they miss you just as much as you miss them. And we are thinking about you and hurting for you always. We are connected to you always, and you love us just as we love you, and that love is powerful enough to break all bonds."

"It hasn't broken any bonds yet." Calli replies. "We still need food. We still need water. We still need clothes. And that keeps us here, it keeps us here, it keeps us here in bondage and there's nothing we can do about it. There's no way to break free from it. Not in our lifetimes at least."

"I know. I know. But it will." My words carry a soft, tender surety. "We will get our day of judgement. We will get our revenge. And more importantly, we will get our freedom. We have to. I feel it so very deeply in my soul. And I'm sure you feel it so very deeply in your souls as well."

"It does help," Callie admits, "thinking of all of you guys and the love you have. But that doesn't change the fact that it's lonely, it's incredibly lonely. There are people all around. There are people everywhere. Yet none of the people actually care about us. It's incredibly lonely anyways."

"I know, that's too much for anyone to deal with," Calix replies. "It's far too much for a child to deal with."

Alaci passes my baby brother to me, and I put him on my lap, one hand supporting his back. 

"Exami is right," Alaci starts. "No matter how unloved anyone feels, and no matter how abused anyone is, they always have a community here in the slums. There are always people who love you no matter what."

"But I understand if it hurts," Mama adds. "Because of course it hurts."

"It hurts now," I begin, "but one day we're all going to be free of all of our hurting. Every single one of us."

"Yet despite all of that, it's still not fair," Vali declares. 

"You're so, so right," Amaki tells her, tells us all. "You guys don't deserve this suffering. Absolutely nobody does. Absolutely nobody deserves to go through any of what you guys went through, what you guys went through for years. Actually, absolutely no one deserves to go through what any of us went through. What any of us have gone through for years and are still going through and what we'll go through for years."

"That's the way of this world," Calix acknowledges sadly. "The innocent suffer. One day we will create a world where no-one suffers."

We all look at each other and there is a hint of smiling in all of our eyes. A hint of deep darkness and a hint of shining brightness. We will survive. We always do. Even when we die. I know that much. And these sweet girls do too. 

———

Calli and Vali are here. So are a bunch of other people. It's the weekend. Well, Sunday at least. and that means I don't have to go to work. None of us have to work. Technically this holiday is a side effect of the overclass needing a day off and not being able to walk around telling us what to do. But it's really really treasured nonetheless. It's a rare day when we get to spend all of our time with each other. 

"So let's tell a story!" Amoni speaks brightly. We all agree. We all love stories. They make us stronger. 

"I thought of a story, once, when I was at the house of my masters," Vali begins. 

"Ooh, how does it go?" I ask. 

"Well, there was Emperoress Zayladon, and I'm sure you all know her." Of course we do. She's the antagonist in so many stories. She's incredibly wicked, but no more wicked than most of the overclass. 

"What did she do?" Baylen asks, his dark, curly hair shining in the sunlight that is getting through the cracks in the windows. 

"Well, she realized that the people were rebelling against her in their souls, in the secret parts of them that no-one could see. And she knew that if they rebelled against her in their souls, that would take away power from her. So, she set out to weaken their souls. She did this by taking away their food, so that their souls would get weaker and weaker. But instead of getting weaker, all the souls of the people only got stronger, until they broke free from the bonds of their bodies and likewise broke free of the Emperoress's power over them."

We are all quiet for a short while, taking the story in. 

"Wow, that was really powerful," Girall speaks. They sound awestruck. 

"It really was," Deanna echoes. 

"So who else has a story?" Hewitt asks the gathered small crowd. 

"I can tell one," five-year old Marci exclaims.

"Ooh, what is it?" Deanna asks. 

"Well, there was a little chicken. And the chicken was sad. It lost its mother. It didn't know where to go. There was a mean fox that was trying to eat the chicken. But the baby chicken ran into a hollow tree to hide. The mean fox could not get the chicken. And the mother was searching for her baby. She searched and she searched. And she saw the mean fox. She knew she had to fight him. And so she gathered all her courage. And she gave that fox a big peck! The fox was so scared, it ran away. And the baby chicken cheered from their hiding place. And the mother heard the cheer and found them! And then they were together again, and safe."

We also all take a moment to take in this story. It is as beautiful as the last. All stories are so incredibly beautiful. I wish I lived in a world where everything was a story. Though I guess I do. It's just that the story of real life hasn't gotten to the good parts yet. 

"That was really cool," Amoni tells the little girl. 

"Yes, it really, really was," I agree. 

"So, it's your turn to tell a story," Baylen tell me. "If you want to of course."

"Of course I want to," I tell him. I tell them all. "So, there are three sisters. And they have a father. The father has a wishing rock. Before he passes away, he tells the girls to give the wishing rock to the community and teach the people how to use it. But each sister gets jealous, and wants to keep the wishing rock for themselves. So they all fight about who gets to have it. But as they are fighting each other, they do not notice a bird swooping down to the rock and taking it away."

I sit in the silence my story created. 

"Wow, that was very amazing," Girall states. 

"Now can Calli tell a story?" Marcia asks. 

"Sure," Calli replies. "I can do that. Just give me a moment to think." We are all silent for a few moments as Calli comes up with something. 

"So there was a wicked king," Calli replies, "and the wicked king had captured a young woman and kept her locked in his castle so that he could do bad things to her. But the Forest Spirits heard the prayer of the girl, and they sent out a brave warrior to save her. This warrior was an outlaw, and she had been training to fight the king all her life, ever since he killed her parents when she was a young child. She used the help and guidance of the Forest Spirits, and hid invisible in a tree. From there, she shot an arrow at the wicked king, killing him. She freed the other girl, and eventually they fell in love and got married."

"That's absolutely beautiful," Hewitt speaks. "All of your stories were absolutely beautiful. And I'm so glad that you all got to tell them." 

"Thanks so much." Calli smiles as she says this. 

"Yeah, thank you," Marcia sing-songs. 

"Just telling the truth," Hewitt presses. 

"So do you guys want to hear some stories from the grown-ups now?" Amoni asks. We all call out a yes in an imperfect yet harmonious unison. 

We listen to a few stories that the adults tell us. And then we discuss the meanings of the stories amongst ourselves. We discuss the meanings of all the stories, the ones the kids told and the ones that the adults told. There is so much to discuss. So much depth to all the tales, so much meaning behind them despite the fact that they're so simple. It's beautiful, and a tiny part of me could almost be fooled into believing that things are okay. Just a tiny part though. The overwhelming majority of me is still hungry and tired in so, so many different ways.