Dim afternoon sunlight trickled through the cracked shutters, casting bright spots on the bed. He was lying on his back, head resting on a tattered pillow. I let my eyes drift over his bare chest, pale skin stretched over jutting bones and ribs. His jawline was dotted with black stubble.

“I’m sure he loves you. After all, he’s your brother,” I told him as I snatched the half-finished joint from his fingers.

He watched me take a drag and exhale the smoke into the air. We hadn’t opened a window in hours and it was beginning to smell badly, a mixture of weed and used bedsheets.

He scratched his chin. “My family was never the loving kind. Mother was only interested in her career. I doubt she ever realized there was a life waiting for her behind the cameras.”

I lifted the joint to my lips a second time, but he yanked it out of my hand, placing it between his own lips. He inhaled deeply, filling his body with the substance. In these short moments, when his entire being was soothed by the drug, he looked completely blissful. Broken as he was, there was still beauty in him. His eyes, even though red-rimmed, were a clear blue, like one of those marbles that I had collected as a child.

“You’re staring at me again,” he said.

“What?” I hadn’t noticed; I never did.

“Fuck it, you’re still doing it! Stop it!” He launched off the bed, flipped the finished joint into a mug that served as an ashtray, and staggered across the room. He had to avoid tripping over unwashed laundry and empty containers of instant noodles. “You know I don’t like to be stared at,” he said, not looking at me.

I shifted on the bed, trying to see what he was doing. He was opening every drawer of the dresser, rummaging through them and muttering under his breath.

“I am sorry for staring at you,” I said. “I was just trying to -”

“Don’t you dare say it!” he cut me off. Again he didn’t look at me, but continued his search through the drawers. “I don’t need your pity.” He cried out in triumph, holding a fist above his head. I bent forward a little to see what he had retrieved from the drawer. I shuddered.

“I thought you weren’t taking them any longer!” I was moving to get up. I didn’t know what I was thinking of doing. He was way too strong for me to wrest the pills out of his hands, even in his present state of health.

He swirled back at me. “I wasn’t, but it’s just not working without them.” And he popped a pill in his mouth before I could say another word. A smug smile plastered onto his face, he slumped down on the bed next to me.

“I know it’s none of my business…” I began cautiously.

“Damn right it’s none of your business.” He was lying there, with his eyes closed, seeming entirely calm. But I knew that the drug would kick in soon.

“I am just…concerned.”

“Oh, you are? What about then?”

It unsettled me that he was still not looking at me. But something kept me going nonetheless. “You are on a downward spiral. You don’t eat properly, you don’t sleep. It’s just… I just wanna -“ and, without thinking, the forbidden word escaped my mouth, “- help.”

Before I could brace myself, I was hit in the face with a pillow. The impact threw me backward a few inches and I fell off the edge of the bed.

“What the hell?” Glaring up at him from the floor, I rubbed my sore elbow. His once vivid blue eyes were no longer lively, but dull and gray, and every color had vanished from his face. He was nothing more but an empty shell, and I realized he’d gone too far.

I inched backward just as he leapt off the bed and on top of me. I squirmed as the first punch hit me in the stomach and screamed as the second hurt my lowest rib. “Get off me, get off me!”

But he was in a rage. Fists flying, he kept punching me, hard. I wriggled and writhed underneath his body, but there was no escaping him. Eventually, I tried some fist-throwing myself. I was surprised when I felt a satisfying crunch under my knuckles.

“Ah!” He crawled off me, clutching his nose. “Get out! Now!” The words were muffled by his hands and the blood from his broken nose filling his mouth.

I scrambled to my feet and staggered through the room. My hand felt sore from the punch and it was shaking on the doorknob, but I managed to yank the door open.

“And don’t you ever come back! I don’t need anybody’s help!” he yelled after me.

Later that day I stood in front of the mirror in my room, inspecting all the bruises. It seemed as though every inch of my body had received its share of the punching, but one of my eyes had gotten the worst of it. I had been watching it change colors over the last few hours, and I shuddered at the current image. The skin around the eye was now blue.

I didn’t cry about the fact that he had thrown me out. It wasn’t the first time, but it would certainly be the last time. I would not allow him to lay hands on me again. It would break me, the way it had shattered my life the night I had ran away from home.

There was a picture we had taken a year ago glued to the corner of my mirror. I pulled it off, holding it in my hand as though it was something poisonous. Even back then his pupils had been dilated, his cheeks hollow, and his bright blue hair dull.

Now it was fading to grey, as was the photograph crumbling in the flames.

Amongst several meadows, bracketed on either side by forests of evergreen trees, lies a small farming community. Many of the villagers work hard to plough one of the fields in the heat of the midday sun. One group of bare-chested young men struggle to handle the heavy wooden plough that is being pulled by a massive ox. Young women follow behind scattering seeds in the turned soil. They giggle and whisper to one another as they admire the muscled men.

Whilst all this hard work is being carried out, a group of children run amok in another corner of the field. They run around throwing mud-pies at one another, whilst a few others have imaginary sword fights with sticks.

Back in the middle of the field, one of the older farmers takes a break and wipes the sweat from his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. He looks briefly towards the west and sees a monstrous swirling thunderstorm gathering around the highest peaks of a distant mountain range. “Hmph, that don’t look good.”

He returns to work but spots the boisterous children. "Oi, you bloody buggers, clear off! We've spent all day ploughing and seeding that field."

Tomas, an audacious eleven-year-old boy wearing ragged striped pants, an oversized shirt, and well-worn boots swaggers in front of the other children. "Who’s a bloody bugger?" He runs his fingers through the long blond locks of his fringe, revealing grey-green eyes. The other children laugh at his immature bravado and look up to him.

The farmer’s face turns beetroot, and he fumbles about trying to stuff the handkerchief back into his chest pocket. He levels a finger at Tomas. "Don't get funny with me, young Tomas or I'll burst ye."

"Oh yeah? Come on, burst me then." Tomas then turns around and winks to the rest of the children.

“Right you little upstart, come here!” The old farmer stomps towards him.

With a mass yelp, the children scatter in the direction of the nearby forest. Tomas rushes over to pick up his five-year-old sister, Hannah, then races after the rapidly disappearing children.

Hannah, slung over her brother’s shoulder, looks back to see the farmer bent over, coughing and wheezing in the middle of the field.

“Oh, I’ll tan your backside for that barefaced cheek… next time I get a hold of you,” the old farmer shouts, shaking a fist at the children.

Once hidden within the safety of the forest, Tomas lets Hannah down. Hannah’s handmade and ill-fitting dress gets caught on a low-hanging branch and tears a hole in it.

“Blinkin’ flip Tomas! Not again,” says Hannah, as she inspects the hole in the back of her dress.

Even though her hands and face haven’t seen some soap and hot water for many months, she is still quite capable of melting the heart of anyone who looks upon her; fuzzy brown curls of hair drape over a little chubby-cheeked face and two big chocolate-button eyes make you want to slap her between two slices of bread and eat her all up.

Tomas starts laughing as Hannah begins slapping him on the knees. “That wasn't funny, Tomas. Poor old Jerome, he’s always nice to me.”

“Hey, knock it off, spud. It was just a bit of harmless fun.”

“Stop calling me spud! We’ll be in big trouble because of you now.”

“No, we won't, stop worrying. Hey, how about we go straight home to Grandpas? We haven't seen him for ages, have we?”

A big smile breaks across Hannah’s face for a second. “Yeah… okay… no wait, Auntie Fanny said not to bother him till the summer holidays are over. He’s dead busy with something.”

“No, she told me it's fine. We can go back and stay with him again now.”

“Are you sure? You'd better not be lying again, Tomas,” replies Hannah, as she cocks her head at her brother.

“Hannah, you know me! So are you coming?” asks Tomas, winking at his sister.

Hannah looks down at the ground, rubs her tiny button nose, and looks back up at a smirking Tomas. A huge smile breaks out on her face and she says, “You bet!”

Tomas takes Hannah’s hand and leads her deeper into the forest. He turns back to the other kids who all seem to be clambering up the trees. “Hey, you lot, can someone tell Auntie Fanny that me and Hannah are going back to our grandpa?”

One of the older girls, who is sat high up on a branch and twirling her hair between her fingers, replies, “Tut tut tut Tomas, that’ll mean you two are gonna miss another visit from the Guild Master’s recruiter.”

“Like I care, Maxine. He’ll never drag me and Hannah into his nest of thieves.”

Maxine stops playing with her hair and rapidly climbs down the tree. Once down on the ground, she runs up to the departing Tomas and pulls on his arm. “Come back with us Tomas, most of the younger kids struggle to cope when you do your disappearing acts.”

“You’re good with them too, Maxine,” replies Tomas, “Just keep them busy and get them to play as many games of Bulldog as you can. It’ll keep their minds off things.”

He looks briefly at Hannah - who is bumbling ahead in her own little world, singing to herself - then whispers in Maxine’s ear. “Get them headed home now, this forest isn’t safe when it gets dark.”

“Will do, and will we see you two tomorrow then?”

“Who knows? No promises.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see you when we see you,” replies Maxine, turning away and calling to all the other children to get down out of the trees.

Tomas catches up to Hannah, who’s still singing a little song to herself, and asks, “Hands up who wants a free piggy-back ride for a little while?”

Hannah instantly throws both arms up in the air and bounces up and down. “Me, me, me!” Tomas helps her climb onto his back and the pair makes their way through the dense foliage.

They wander through the forest for quite a while, chatting to one another along the way. Eventually, Tomas moans to Hannah that she is too heavy and he puts her back down on the ground, all the while ignoring the complaints from his sister. They continue on for quite a while, climbing over fallen trees and crawling under hollowed out trunks. Hannah’s jaw drops as they pass straight through the trunk of a tree that has been carved out in the middle to allow a horse and cart to fit through.

“Whoah! Did that tree grow like that, Tomas?” asks Hannah.

“Huh?” he replies, before turning around to look up at the tree. “Nope, the previous forest-dwellers carved it out.”

“Who?”

“The people who used to live in the forest a long time ago.”

Hannah twitches her nose for a moment and her eyebrows scrunch together, showing that she’s thinking really hard about something. “You mean like, our great-grandparents?”

“No, WAY before them. I’m talking at least hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years ago.”

“Before even that witch who runs the sweet shop on the corner of the market square?” replies Hannah, making a disgusting face.

“YES! You do know that she’s the same age as grandpa?”

“Really? She looks way older than gramps.”

“They both went to magic school together.”

“Yeah, I bet she went there and learnt how to make the worst sweets in the land. Did you know that Penelope once gave me one of her sour bombs that she bought from her shop? After popping it in my mouth, it almost made me cry, like, straight away.”

Tomas stops walking and turns around to face her. “Where’d Penelope get the coins to pay for something like that?”

Hannah hangs her head and averts her brother’s gaze.

“Spud, tell me how the hell Penelope got so many coins she could afford to pay for sweets?”

Tomas lifts her chin up, but she looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Promise me you won’t tell on her?” whispers Hannah.

“Just tell me.”

Hannah takes a deep breath then blurts out, “We sneaked out early one morning to go to the market to sell the six carrots she grew in her backyard and we spent like the whole day trying to sell them but no-one would bother looking at us and then-” Hannah stops to take another deep breath before continuing with wild hand gestures. “As it was getting dark we were about to leave when this really nice girl who was a maid to some rich lady bumped into us and she apologized and was really nice to us and so Penelope just shoved the carrots in her face and asked her if she wanted to buy them-”

Hannah takes another huge gulp of air. “And the girl laughed at the two of us and we started laughing too and she took them off Penelope and gave her a handful of coins.” Hannah collapses onto the forest floor in dramatic fashion and looks up at the canopy.

Tomas puts his hands on his hips and looks down at his sister. “So let me guess, you two went straight to the sweet shop to buy a bag of sweets?”

“Yep,” replies Hannah, swiping her arms up and down trying to make a ‘grass’ angel on the forest floor.

“You know with that kind of money, she could have paid for a nice bit of meat for her whole family to enjoy? They’re just as poor as us you know?”

“Yeah, but Penelope said her big sister was mean to her the day before, so we decided to get ourselves some sweets and eat them all. We wouldn’t give her big sister any.”

Tomas bends down and grabs Hannah’s hand and drags her back onto her feet. “Come on, spud, let’s get a move on before it gets dark.”

“Can you carry me, I’m tired?”

“Nope, I’ve carried you enough. Move your little legs, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

Tomas has to drag a reluctant Hannah along the forest path.

“Ooh, Tomas, stop, Pixies!” shouts Hannah, almost yanking Tomas’ arm out of his socket as she runs off in a different direction.

“Sheesh sis, take it easy!” replies Tomas, as now it’s his turn to be dragged somewhere. Hannah points to a fallen tree trunk covered in tiny, brightly coloured mushrooms; little dots of different coloured lights zip around the log and mushrooms.

Tomas pulls Hannah away from where she’s pointing. “No Hannah, we don’t have time to go rummaging for pixies.”

“But I need to catch some more to replace the ones I… lost.”

“Hannah, you didn’t lose them, they suffocated in that glass jar you kept them in.”

“No! They died because you wouldn’t make them little beds and they couldn’t go to sleep properly,” replies Hannah, letting go of his hand, folding her arms, and giving her brother a nasty glare.

“Argh Hannah, do you know how ridiculous that is? Have you ever heard of anyone ever dying because they didn’t have a little wooden bed to sleep on?”

“Yeah, my Pixies.”

Tomas exhales and rubs his face with his hands. “Okay, let’s not start a fight. I promise you, after visiting Grandpa we’ll come back and catch some more, how’s that?”

“And you promise me that you’ll make them some beds this time?”

“And I promise I’ll make them some teeny-weeny beds too,” replies Tomas, before turning away and muttering under his breath, “As well as cutting some air-holes in the jar.”

“What was that?” asks Hannah.

“Nothing, spud, come on, let’s get a move on before it gets dark and the forest-trolls come out.”

Hannah freezes for a second before dashing beside her brother and grabbing his hand. The pair continue their way through the forest with Hannah looking nervously around in all directions.