The Whispers of the Broken

My mother once told me that the broken were destined to one day inherit the earth. It was an odd saying, especially when mumbled over glasses of scotch that smelled no different to a sewer. She refused to specify who qualified as a broken person, but perhaps that is why I never paid much attention to her babbling. Who could have known there was any truth to the slurring of a mad woman in the midst of another tall tale? Foolish of me to think it was nothing but a saying, when it was really a warning of the inevitable.

I have lived so carelessly throughout my years, refusing to hear her voice inside my head. Until the day I found myself wishing that I had. I would give anything to have been reminded that the broken would inherit the earth. Or to have cared about the ways the unbroken pushed the land to its unnatural end. I should have known that the broken would be left stranded with the ashes of a planet that could no longer promise a tomorrow. Perhaps if I had just listened, I would have been prepared, but nothing can prepare you for the apocalypse. Not the earthquakes, the tsunamis, or the scorching blazes of the sun. Nor the yelling, the panic, or the loneliness of it all.

My mother’s world burned as the generations before her fled for their lives. They live in the stars now, or so I have been told from time to time. Birthed from the ashes of civilization grew the Capitol of Coventry, and with it poured the promise of a new way of life. Years have passed since then, but the world I leave you with is still on fire. The flames may not be literal, but the death count is still on the rise. It keeps growing at a speed that feels familiar to the striking of a match.

Coventry is no longer safe. The promise of the Capitol is as broken as the people living within its walls. Its latest attack on children is why I had to get both of you children out. We are no longer free. Our bodies– no longer ours. Population control for the sake of survival feels different when your loved ones are staring at the end of the barrel.

Forgive me, my dear, for my thoughts are slow and wording clumsy. My hands are struggling to keep up with the momentum of my mind. I must confess that my head is spinning in different directions, pulling my attention to fragmented memories of an extinct time. Engraving the words I want to say on a piece of paper seems harder than it should be. I keep pressing the pen on paper, but somehow my hands feel like they are floating. I can see my mother standing before me. Her beauty has bested the test of time. Is she just an illusion? Perhaps, but I really do not mind. Dying is a lonely force, or at least that is what I have been told by the soldiers in Coventry. At least I have my mother here with me. Illusion or not. Her crooked smile brings me comfort, and pushes me to go on.

My blood lies scattered across the forest floor, alongside a version of me who thought that I might survive. My vision is blurring. Your auntie Maisie will be sad to hear that the pain from my wound has nearly disappeared. She will soon realize that you will never meet me. It is a sad truth, but I have some words for you to one day read.

Click. Click.

The pen is ready, Leia. This is for you.

There are not enough resources on this planet to feed any more mouths known to man. As a result, your ability to birth children into this world will be considered a threat. Safety is a privilege that will never be known to you. Forever hunted by a society that swore to protect you. They will find you if you and your brother refuse to take this precaution seriously. All you have is each other now, and Auntie Maisie will never let you forget it. Replay her words in your head, relentlessly until both your brains fall asleep at night. It will save your life one day, perhaps far better than whatever warning my mother gave me.

Never did it cross my mind that I would fail to see you grow. I truly thought I had more time with you. How foolish of me, I know. To hold you and to love you until the end of my days, was the promise I had made to you all those months ago. But so lost is our world that I must part ways far earlier than I had planned. I want you to remember that I did everything I could to provide you with a fighting chance. You are left with your auntie Maisie and your older brother, Adam. A family of children thrown into a world that holds no promise of a future. Mother was wrong. People like me are broken and our time on this planet is running out. You are the survivors. A generation born out of the ashes, ready to inherit the earth.

My wish is that you have a natural life, one that knows no torture, hatred or pain. I pray you see the eagles swarming the skies at the edge of Benedict's Cliff, just like I did when I was a bit older than your age. That is where Maisie will take you two. I do hope the ruins are not so bad. I pray you run and laugh endlessly. Your father would have been so proud. I wish nothing but love for the three of you.

These are the wishes of a dying mother… Oh how I wish that you could understand. But you are just a baby, with no conscious thought at hand. Know that you are loved, and will forever be in my arms. A little newborn baby. Birthed from the shadows of Coventry into a world that knows no loyalty or heart. To better days, I pray, as I prepare to say goodbye. But as I look at my bloodied hands, I realize that I have written nothing on the page. A wave of fear flusters the corners of my heart. I am leaving you with no words to carry on your mother’s heart.

Adam has come to my side now, tears streaming down his cheeks. My little boy is strong, and so willing to keep me company. He has no fear of the outside, not even of the shadows that the night brings. I cannot even seem to muster up the strength to hold my hand to his chin. The best I can do is force my lungs to cooperate in giving my final breath meaning.

“Leia.” I whispered, the last word to ever leave my mouth. Little Adam nodded, turned at his heel and away he went into the darkest corner of the tunnel. My sweet child, I can already picture the man you will grow to be. So helpful and loyal to your little sister and Auntie. My time is nearing. I can feel it. Oh how I wished I could pause time.

Little Adam soon returned with his baby sister and Auntie Maisie by his side. All the things I wanted to say to you, all the words I wanted you to read someday are now lost to time. I now sit with you staring at me, hoping you will not grow up traumatized.

I must say goodbye without having left a note, but I do have this heart shaped locket that dangles at my neck. So I rip it off and shove it in little Adam’s hand. He says, “what is this for momma?” but I do not have the strength. Auntie Maisie caught on quicker than my spinning head could comprehend. She snatched the locket and brought you nearer so that I could see your darling eyes. My little baby, of all things I had hoped you would remember… These are now the things I hope you forget: how my eyes dwindled and breathing flattened as my hand pointed to the locket that hung around your neck.