The air was crisp and clean. Birds chirped beautifully, crafting melodies that warmed the soul. Trees ruffled in the gentle breeze,
And then it all went to shit.
Genevieve tried her best to cover the new cut on her knee, but it did no good. The deep wound was bleeding faster than she could stop it. Genevieve hadn’t thought to bring her bandages with her since she was just going for a walk. One always had to keep bandages on person when they had unusual blood. Genevieve cursed under her breath and ripped the bottom of her favorite green dress. The young girl used the torn fabric as a makeshift bandage to keep her knee from bleeding. She tugged the binding once more to make sure it was secure, and sighed with relief.
Genevieve changed her direction with a groan and began to limp home. Thankfully, she didn’t attract much attention as she slowly maneuvered through dirt paths. Upon nearing her home, however, she felt a trickle of blood running down her leg. Of course, she was so close and yet so far. She was always unlucky. Genevieve knelt down to fix her knee as soon as possible.
She peeled back the layer of fabric on her leg. It was beginning to stick to the cut. The wound itself was worse than she had thought. Although she knew that she wouldn’t get an infection, Genevieve was worried by how much it was bleeding. The young girl bit her lip tentatively, searching the path around her for bystanders.
She could rip another piece of fabric from her shirt, or she could try and make it home without incident. Even if she did try to fix it, she wouldn’t be able to do much and she’d just be walking around with a bloody cloth and ruined dress. That wasn’t suspicious at all. If she hurried, then she could probably make it back to her home before anyone noticed her… affliction.
Genevieve weighed the two options in her mind, debating which one would have the least troublesome outcome. Making her decision, she stood up and hobbled in the direction of her house. A few passersby gave her curious glances, but nothing that concerned her. Genevieve finally reached her small home, breathing a sigh of relief once she was safely inside.
She weaved her way through the house, making her way to the closet. She opened the door and pulled out a woven basket holding her medical supplies. Well, all the supplies she could afford, anyway. Genevieve sat down against the wall and pulled out one of the many bandage rolls she kept on hand. She held her breath as she tore the ruined material from her knee. Her lips curled when she caught sight of the white liquid that was her blood.
It was too much hassle for what it was worth, really. Sure, it granted immortality if drank on a regular basis, and sure, she herself was immortal, but that wasn’t the point. Genevieve’s thoughts wandered as they often did. It was hard not to when she thought about what was coursing through her veins.
“Genevieve, dear, what’s wrong?” Her mother questioned. She walked into the dark room, sitting on the edge of young Genevieve’s bed. Said girl was curled up in her worn blankets, stubbornly looking away from her mother.
“Honey, what is it? Can’t you tell your mother? Were the kids mean to you again?”
“Then what is it?” Her mother placed a warm hand on Genevieve’s shoulder.
Genevieve rolled around to look at her mother. She was the most beautiful woman alive, in Genevieve’s opinion. Her porcelain skin was flawless, not a wrinkle or blemish to be seen anywhere. There was a small hint of freckles along her cheekbones, only adding to her beauty. Her eyes were a striking blue, while her long chestnut hair was warm and inviting. Genevieve thought her mom looked almost like an angel like this, sitting above her, smiling, while the light from the ajar door created a warm ring of light around her hair.
“I want to go outside and play with the other kids. None of them are going to want to talk to me if I can’t play with them. They’re gonna think I’m a freak.”
Genevieve’s mother brushed a lock of Genevieve’s hair out of her face. “Oh, sweetheart. You know you can’t do that. What if you were to get hurt, and you started bleeding? It’s better that you stay hidden, and stay safe. I know it’s hard, but when you’re older, you’ll be able to take care of yourself more. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Like you? Mommy’s strong.” Yes, Genevieve’s mother held white blood just like her. It was a blessing yet curse.
Her mother laughed, “Yes, but Mommy also has Daddy to protect her.”
Yeah… a whole lot of good that did. Genevieve had gone out on her own to the market, but when she came home, red and white was splattered all across the walls; her mother and father crumpled on the floor, nothing more than mutilated corpses. Her mother’s chestnut hair wasn’t so beautiful when white blood was soaking it.
Genevieve unraveled the bandages. She began to wrap her wound carefully and precisely. It wouldn’t do her any good to try and hide her blood if she did a poor job of it. She tied off the wrapping and placed the basket back in the closet. Genevieve wandered into the kitchen, the feeling of hunger beginning to peck at her stomach.
The young girl looked through her pantries, pulling out a jar and a loaf of bread. The jar was full of blueberry preserves, the blueberries coming straight from her garden. She cut a slice of bread and sprinkled the top of it with sugar out of habit. That was how her mother got her to eat, by sprinkling a pinch of sugar on it. It was never enough to actually affect it, but it was enough to trick Genevieve into eating it. Now that her mother was gone, it felt wrong to eat anything without it. She spread on the preserves and placed everything back in the pantry. Genevieve sat down at the small table in the room that was next to the window.
The young girl ate quietly, munching slowly on her lunch. She scratched absentmindedly at her bandaged knee and stared into space. Once she was finished, Genevieve stood up and washed the plate in the sink and made her way to the front door. She stepped outside and looked around, stopping when she found the object of her desire. Genevieve grabbed the newspaper and went back inside.
She sat down in her favorite armchair and began to flip through the pages. Most of the stories were about crops and weddings, a few about local job openings and such. Genevieve huffed, but ended up turning to the job listings anyways. Most of them were farm or shop work, although there was a listing for working on a port. Genevieve entertained the idea for a moment, but quickly rejected it. She folded the paper and went to set it down, but stopped when the first page caught her eye;
Genevieve tossed the paper on the coffee table next to her. Erickson had been a problem in Portsmith for as long as she could remember, she didn’t know why everyone was still making a big deal about it. Perhaps it was because there was no other news to fill the front page.
The sun was beginning to set and the light in the room began to dim into nothingness. Genevieve left the room in favor of her own, thinking of the warm wool blankets that awaited her. She reached her room and shed herself of her shoes and sweater. The young girl let her hair down from where it had been pinned up, her light chestnut hair falling past her shoulders and further still past her waist. Genevieve’s hair was full of curls and twists, but smooth and silky all the same.
She crawled into bed as her dreams carried her away.