Page 5 of Lost & Found

I was called forth, and I shook with trepidation. I drew or painted. Of all our talents, mine was the least impressive. It hit me then—I was the one who didn’t belong. These girls were next level elites. They had to be in their respective arts.

X brought out three narrow platforms. The girls were then instructed to stand before them. X moved around, rearranging dresses and making it look like the girls were standing on a shelf in a doll shop. My easel was repositioned next to the man on the throne, and I was forced to stand in the presence of evil.

“You will draw them as they are,” the man demanded.

A faint smile played on his lips, and I picked up the charcoal pencil. My stomach churned at the request, and with no choice but to comply, I took a deep breath and pretended I was in my room at home.

I had dolls I played with, but mine were modern and had accessories that were fashionable. Like most artists did, I’d lined them up in my bedroom and drawn. So using that as my reference point, I drew the girls before me. My hands were steady as I sketched.

The room fell silent as I worked. The only sounds were the scratch of my pencil on the paper. I didn’t realize the stillness I’d forced into myself was what caught his attention.

Summer and Winter remained stoic as I drew, and Spring fidgeted halfway through causing the tension to rise. From across the room, there was the slightest movement of Winter swallowing hard, and Summer blinked rapidly each time.

As I finished the basic sketch, Spring’s cries as she was spanked for fidgeting echoed through the room. I set the pencil down, feeling the son examining not only me but my work. In the end, the emotions Winter and Summer displayed while playing were their downfall.

Weeks later, Sonny would confide in me that he had almost chosen Spring that night. I wish he would have. Maybe she would have been spared the worst of things, but as it was, it didn’t play out that way.

In the end, it was my composure he wanted. My ability to show nothing that sealed my fate. The days turned into years, and living in this prison didn’t get any easier, no matter how many rules we mastered.

Chained and forever linked by new names, we became the Season Sisters. Despite the attempt to keep us isolated from one another, they failed to understand that our shared experiences, like this one, only further bonded us.

Two Years Later

The red maple tree that sat out front by the lake shimmered in a light breeze, the budding leaves signaling that time was, once more, passing by. My heart was heavy, each breath tight and shallow. I was suffocating in despair.

When was the last time I felt joy or hope?

The sun was warmer today, but a chill had seeped into my bones long ago. It never left me. It mirrored the emptiness within. It was outdoor time per the daily schedule—two hours each day. X stood by as our silent chaperone, keeping a close eye on all of us. My eyes swung around the playground.

It was a mockery of childhood innocence.

How many other sets of four girls had been here? How many would be after us? Was it ever vibrant, or had it always reflected the state of apathy it portrayed? It was as neglected as Spring.

And speaking of the little girl, my eyes landed on her. I feared she’d been beaten so much that maybe her brain didn’t remember things correctly anymore. What else could cause a child to forget simple, basic rules? I wasn’t smart or a doctor, so I tried to rationalize why she did the things she did. It was as if she didn’t have the capacity to think before she acted.

Spring stood off to the side, her toes pointed as she hummed a melancholy tune, her eyes distant and hollow. The dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale skin. Summer sat on a blanket far from the lake, reading some classic novel. Her gaze was fixed on the worn pages. How many times had she read it? Surely enough to have it memorized.

Winter swung listlessly back and forth, her movements mechanical and devoid of anything. Her fiery red hair fluttered with the movements, picked up by the breeze.

The swing-set, a relic, creaked and groaned with each sway, a haunting melody of abandonment. The chains were rusted—the seats were worn. Beside the tree sat a covered carousel, frozen in time.

Four weathered animals, their paint chipped and peeling, had been dulled by the passage of time. The swan was for Spring, the seahorse for Summer, the fox for Winter, and the rabbit was mine.

The last time we used it, X had stopped it so that the swan seemingly gazed out over the murky waters of the lake, its delicate form marred by cracks and fissures.

I was sitting by the lake, drawing listlessly in the dirt with a stick. Later, when I was back in my room, maybe I’d draw the swan and the seahorse carrying the rabbit and fox down the lake and away to freedom. Probably not. That would make them mad.

I sighed, wishing for the thousandth time I’d never approached that car. My eyes filled with hot, angry tears as I choked them back. The ache in my heart felt like it would never heal. I swiped the tears away bitterly as a sharp pang of betrayal coursed through my veins. He forgot all about me, leaving me to face the world alone. Of all people, he should have known better.

A brother was supposed to keep you safe. He promised he always would, especially after everything that happened with the King’s sister, Vanya. And then, the resentment faded, and a deep sorrow tugged at my soul. I wasn’t being fair.

Something awful had happened to Vanya. I was five when she stopped doing things with the family. I only saw her at the beach house during the summer. And even then, she stayed in her room or snuck off to the village.

She ran away from home when I was only eight years old. It had almost destroyed the King family. Sebastian loved her still to this day. Torn between anger and sorrow, between the sting of betrayal and the silent ache of longing to see my brother’s blue eyes, I scratched furiously into the ground, breaking the stick.

Damn, now I’d have to find a new one.

My eyes shot up, and I shivered. X was watching Spring intently. Her presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the harsh reality we faced. The men kept her hair cropped short, some parts longer than others. She always wore the same thing unless she was forced to go out with the Mask.