Hatred Day

by T S Pettibone

  But I made a lot of friends at my new school, the Capstone Institute. I was in second grade and at the top of my class, second to Sephora Wilder. She was nice, but I didn’t like the way she bragged every time she outscored me. I still talked to Ghost, but not as much as I used to. Since I started making friends at the Capstone Institute, I felt less close to it. As I stopped talking to Ghost, Lycidius began talking to his invisible person more and more. He still wouldn’t tell me who the person was. I thought it was because there really wasn’t a person and he only made up the friend so he wouldn’t feel so lonely. I was probably right because Lycidius would often watch children playing games in the streets from the window. Since all the other children were too afraid to play with him, he started talking to me more each week.

  By summer, he wouldn’t fall asleep until I did. He’d stay up for hours, staring at me while I read my favorite book, I am a Cat. I would get annoyed and tell him, “Staring is bad manners, you know.” He didn’t care and just stared longer. He talked a lot in his sleep and always sounded upset. Usually he talked about Norway, and about a war ship called Vile, and about an Unloved God, and about a woman with white hair. I used to think the woman was his mother. When I asked if he loved her, he snorted and said, “Love is why we’re a weak species. People should hurt what they like and destroy what they love. I need nothing but the strength to never be defeated.”

  I just frowned and stopped asking him questions after that. I was afraid of saying something that would make him want to get revenge. If anyone did do anything bad to him, he’d make sure to get them back. Mostly, he’d use funny mind games and get them to believe things that weren’t true. And he did it to me a lot of times. One of these times, I made him hold my flower basket while I gathered remedial plants in the woods. He didn’t want to hold it because it was girly, so he got mad. I’d touched a lot of plants that day, and he said to me, “Your eyes are already starting to change. The seven-leafed plant you touched was Tearmoss and now you’ll slowly go blind.” I ran all the way home and checked my eyes in the mirror. They didn’t look different, but for days I waited to go blind. I knew he’d been lying when Ryuki told me that Tearmoss was healthy and good with soba noodles. I got so mad at Lycidius I threw a rice ball at him. His dark eye smiled at me as he said, “Don’t ever make me do something I don’t want to again.”

  I didn’t for a long time.

  In autumn, I went into third grade and finally scored above Sephora Wilder. My favorite thing to do was to play in forest green-zones after school days with Desya and to swim at Paradise Pools; Lycidius always watched back from the water with a worried face. When I asked him why he was afraid of the pool, his dark eye turned black and he said, “I was left to die in water.” But I knew he was just a scaredy-cat.

  After a while, I started to get scared of things too.

  In the winter, Ryuki started coming home later at night. I’d see him limping through the kitchen, holding ice packs on his knuckles, his mouth and his ribs, and become afraid. Sometimes, he’d have cuts and bruises on his face. Once, when I put Vaseline on them, and asked him why he was hurt, he smiled and said, “The other guy had a wicked jab-cross. But dad still won.” Ryuki would have a pretty Spanish woman over sometimes, too. I was happy because I thought I might get a mother and asked him if this was his plan. He laughed, and told me, “Ask me in a month.”

  I didn’t get a mother.

  By spring, we’d stopped meditating. Ryuki wouldn’t come home until early morning—always with a bruised face—so we stopped eating family dinners. And we even stopped playing family games. I didn’t care so much about being smart after that. I only wanted the family to be a family again, even if we didn’t have all the nice things Ryuki gave us. I got half of my wish. It was two weeks after my ninth birthday that Ryuki came home with red eyes and hugged me and Desya. After that, he told us bad news.

  Age 9 - 12

  Gehenna Slums

  All of us were afraid to live in Gehenna, except for Lycidius.

  Ryuki had to sell our house on Quintree Quay to pay a loan shark. Because he had no existing relatives, and since the bank and the Trojan Mortal club wouldn’t help us, we had nowhere to go but the slums. I knew he was sad and angry about this; he’d cry at night when he thought we were asleep. He worked different jobs for food: doing fights at the bingo cages, sewing in sweat shops, and taking contracts from the Swangunners, or from one of the Swangunner’s secondary gangs—Kapa and Blackflag—and even selling drugs to make more coppers. Even more than I was afraid of starving, I was afraid of Ryuki getting hurt during a job. But after each one, he’d come back to our hut and kiss me either good morning or good night.

  We lived in a three-room hut at Lamppost 23 on Rue Street with twenty-six other people. Most of them didn’t trust us, but I knew that all newcomers needed time to become part of the community. Although the hut was cramped, we made our space as cozy as we could. It was built on the first level of the slums—there were nine in all—and had a tin roof, a gas lantern, and the dirt floor was covered with cardboard that Desya had scavenged. We each had our own wool blanket; Ryuki always made us fold them on the mat where we all slept. We had two pots that we hung on the wall, a portable gas stove, a flower pot of beryl barb, and a bucket where Ryuki made us wash before dinner. Even though we hung blankets on the walls, it was always hot in the summer and freezing in the winter. This wasn’t as dangerous for us as it was for Desya. He got sick every winter. It was so bad one time that he almost died, but Neko brought him antibiotics.

  Neko was sorry we had to live in Gehenna and even offered to let us live with him. Ryuki was thankful, but told Neko that the loan sharks wouldn’t allow us back in the city until Ryuki had paid off at least half his debts.

  I got used to slum life quickly because people would die if they didn’t know the rules. At first, I missed my life on Quintree Quay. After two months, it felt like a different lifetime. The most important rules were to stay clean and dry, wear a rag over your mouth if you didn’t have a gasmask, and never upset a Swangunner or trespass on gang turf.

  Ryuki made us all learn who the bosses, captains and gang leaders were. It was easy to spot them. Gang members told everyone they were in a gang through tattoos, the colors they wore, the way they walked, and even the way they spoke. All the gangs marked their turf with their sign and would behead rival gang members and put their heads on sticks to mark their borders, so we knew where the red-zones were.

  Recruiters tried to recruit Lycidius and Desya a lot. Desya didn’t join, but Lycidius eventually was initiated into Kapa—a Russian gang managed by the Swangunners—as a Street Soldier, to protect us. I knew he had to do bad things, so I never asked him questions. Also, because I saw things. He would wash blood from his red and gold gang shirt in the lake before he came home. When he did come home, he’d have bruised knuckles and smelled like vodka and smoke. And people on the street started looking at him differently; it was the same look the children had given him on Quintree Quay when they were afraid.

  I’d memorized all the rules so I’d be safe, but I still slipped up a few times.

  Ryuki would give me and Desya more food than him—he’d grown so skinny that his clothes didn’t fit—and I was afraid he’d die, so I knew I had to do something. One of the top rules was never to steal from gangs, so I knew stealing food was risky, but I had to do it.

  A certain Swangunner always left his motorcycle unguarded by the base-head shacks, so one day, when the alley was empty, I searched it. There were poisonous snakes slithering inside his rucksack, guarding a bag of oranges. I picked up a stick and after pushing out all the snakes, safely stole the oranges. I got away with this three times.

  The fourth time, the owner of the bike caught me.

  I’d pinched five oranges when I heard a gunshot. I was so scared, I dropped the oranges. If I’d known it was Lucian Lozoraitis, the Warden’s brother, that I was stealing from, I wouldn’t have touched the bike. Lucian was only s
ixteen, but he was much bigger than me. He’d shot children before, so I knew he’d either kill me or send me to the Child Executioner.

  “You’re a greedy little girl,” Lucian told me. “You should’ve stopped after the first three times.”

  “P-please…” I tried to leave, but he waved his gun at me. “I won’t do it again. Please don’t shoot me.”

  “You’re too tiny to shoot. What’s your name, mieloji?”

  “S-Snofrid.” My lips shook as I looked at the axe on his motorcycle. “P-please don’t cut off my head.”

  “Which one would scare you more?” he asked. “Being shot or having your head cut off?”

  “H-having my head cut off. If you let me go, I’ll do anything.”

  He smiled and picked up the oranges. “Never offer deals, mieloji. Let the deal be spoken first and then manipulate it to your advantage. If you promise to be a Runner for me, I promise I won’t cut off your head.”

  I told him, “If you don’t hurt Ryuki, Dez and Lycidius, I’ll be your Runner.”

  He shook my pinky, and said, “Good girl. This deal is fair.”

  After I told Lycidius about Lucian, he quit the Kapa gang and started to follow me everywhere. I lost count of how many times he hurt people to protect me—soldiers, pimps, luggers, drug pushers, watchdogs, and even child soldiers—but though I’d once hated him for hurting people to protect me, now I was thankful he was there.

  I ran almost every day for Lucian’s business, delivering packages. I wasn’t a real Runner—those men delivered guns—so they all called me Peewee. Lucian lived in a fancy villa in the Golden Circle of Hollowstone with his brothers and the Warden, so I didn’t see him often. But I heard a lot of rumors about him. Some said that he injected himself with snake venom to get high, that he was the only Lozoraitis brother on good terms with the Chancellor, and that he always kept his word.

  My uniform was black trousers and a black shirt with a red wolf on it. Also, I wore a buzzer wristlet: each time it beeped, I’d run to Gediminas Street on the ninth level and wait outside the Iliuzija Club in the fancier part of Gehenna. A Swangunner named Vadimas would come out the back door and give me a cardboard box with instructions for delivery. I didn’t know what was in the boxes I delivered, but after I saw blood leaking from one, I stopped wondering.

  After about a year, Lycidius did start to act nice as Ryuki had promised. One day, he sat in the corner of the hut a long time, staring at me while I did homework (I’d enrolled in a tiny slum school on our street). He mostly watched my hands and his mouth tipped up, as if he liked the way I moved them. After a while, he said to me, “Do you hate your parent’s for shaming you?”

  I’d thought about this a lot myself and answered, “What makes us so different from humans? The only difference is our Halos. I’m glad my father married my mother.”

  He said, “You’re wrong. You are different, Snofrid.” Then he got up and left.

  The next day, Lycidius was different. But instead of saying nice words, he’d make me gifts. I knew it was because he didn’t want to tell anyone what he felt. If he did, he’d love and be weak. He was good at pretending, but I’d always known that he felt things deeply—more deeply than all of us. We were gathering sticks for a fire one day and he asked me, “Cedar or redwood?” I hid my smile, and said, “Redwood.” The next day, he left a bracelet carved from redwood beads in the shape of beryl barb flowers on my mat. It was detailed, as if it had taken hours to finish. This was the kind of thing he did to tell me he wanted to be friends.

  Summer and autumn passed in sad and happy moments.

  Desya got a steady job making guns from bobby pistols in a sweat shop, which earned us an extra cup of rice; Ryuki worked every job available, down to dragging dead bodies to the waste pits, and I continued running for Lucian. When he was happy with my fast running, he gave me fruit, poppy seed cakes and chocolate, which I always brought home to share. When he gave me a pair of red sneakers, I ran even faster. He even gave me an expensive gasmask, and said, “Your skin is too pretty to be ruined by the air, mieloji. Find Vadimas every time you need a new cartridge.”

  I ran home smiling that day. Since I healed from air poisoning, I gave the mask to Ryuki, Lycidius and Desya to share.

  During hot months, Lycidius and I climbed an abandoned tower overlooking the slum. I felt safe up there. I think Lycidius liked it because it was peaceful. Whenever there was wind, he’d lift his head up, like he loved the feel of it against his face. Sometimes we’d see fireworks going off above Hollowstone and we’d talk about how much we missed it. He promised me that he’d get me out of Gehenna one day. He told me he was working on a transport design that could make stacks of silvers. I told him, “If you get us all out of here, I’ll love you forever.”

  As soon as I said this, his eyes grew large, like he was surprised. Then his dark eye grew blacker than I’d ever seen it. I didn’t get scared, because his other eye stayed bright. After a while, it started to look suspicious, and he said, “You didn’t love Ghost forever.”

  I didn’t argue with him because I was suddenly very sad. I hadn’t thought of Ghost in a long time. After we climbed down from the tower and lied on the mat in our hut, I told Ghost I missed it. Even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry again until I left Gehenna, I did that night.

  My life changed when I met Parisa Namdar. And so did Desya’s.

  Three of the people we lived with were stoned for stealing food from other huts, so Parisa’s family moved in. Her mother, Roshani, worked as a hostess at one of the Swangunner’s clubs; her father used to be a Street Solider for a smaller gang, but he’d been killed in a turf war. We became friends right away. Parisa was Iranian and the most beautiful human girl I’d ever seen, but only her mother and I knew this because she wore a veil and baggy clothes like I did when in public.

  Desya eventually found out, though.

  His eyes would get big when she came into the hut. At first, he was too shy to talk to her, so he just stared at us while we talked, cooked rice or did laundry. Then he started to do things for her and Roshani—washing their clothes, gathering firewood, carving furniture. Parisa noticed what he did and smiled at him once. Afterwards, Desya stopped being quiet. He’d sit in the sand outside the hut and talk to her for hours; he’d share his food with her, walk her everywhere, help her haul water from the lake, and make her gifts.

  About two months after this began, I saw Desya kiss her in an alley outside our hut. His red Hematic claws were sticking out, which only happened when he was mad or excited, and Parisa made him hold his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t cut her.

  Ryuki saw the kiss too. That night, he told Desya not to treat Parisa like men in the slums did, but that he should treat her better than he treated himself. Then Ryuki smiled and gave him the last of the vodka.

  After this, Lycidius stopped him outside the hut, and told him, “Never let a girl tell you what to do while you’re kissing her.”

  Desya smiled and said, “At least I’ve kissed a girl.”

  Lycidius chewed his tongue barbell and I knew he was embarrassed. But instead of losing his temper, he left the hut and didn’t come back until morning.

  Age 13-14

  Gehenna Slums

  As my body changed, so did my life in Gehenna.

  I hated the way slaveholders stared at me and the crude things they yelled at me. I was afraid of being one of the girls or boys they kidnapped and sold off as pleasure slaves. Even though I was tall, skinny and dirty, pimps tried to recruit me. They told me I’d get food and nice clothes if I worked for them and that they’d protect me, but I knew they were all liars. I’d seen the way they treated their slaves and it was worse than slum dogs. Along with my mouth veil, I started wearing a mosquito net to cover my eyes. Parisa did too. These days, Desya never let her go anywhere by herself.

  Lycidius was now tall and strong; no one even glanced at me badly when he was around. Desya also grew taller and came into his full
Hematic speed. Parisa, who was one-and-a-half years older than me, helped me. She knew what happened when girls grew, so I wasn’t so afraid when I did.

  Ryuki was the only one that grew smaller.

  He’d become so thin he was rarely hired for jobs anymore. I brought him all the food that Lucian gave me, but he usually vomited afterwards. This put more stress on his body and he stopped accepting the food.

  One night, he set the bag of cherries I’d given him in my lap and said, “I’m happy you take care of me, Sno, but I love you too much to let you keep giving me so much food. I’d be a lot happier if you took care of yourself first.”

  I frowned, and said, “Are you not taking the food because you don’t like cherries?”

  Ryuki shook his head. “That’s not why I’m returning the food.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I’d rather starve than let my daughter starve.” He pinched my nose, and when I finally laughed, he whispered, “There’s a lot I need to make up for, honey. Please help me try.”

  I did try. I tried my hardest to help Ryuki not feel guilty, but it didn’t work. He’d cry more and more when he thought he was alone. But he was never sad in public. He always told jokes to children when he helped sick families. He even bought homeless slum squatters clothes and gave away spare coppers to the neighbors. I didn’t understand the way he was acting, but because he seemed happier, I was too.

  Lucian started to be kinder to me. As long as no one saw me, he’d let me sit behind the bar in the Iliuzija Club and drink soda or beer after hot days of running. He was always interested in how much I could drink and even said I had a gift. I did. My healing abilities made it impossible for me to get drunk.