Letitia

”When you find yourself broken and alone... where do you run?”

“My past... it is almost unspeakable the horrors and tragedy I have seen in t’is lifetime. I suppose I am luckier t’an most, t’ough; I still have my life. That can be a blessing and a curse dependent upon on one’s personal outlook. My own? I am neit’er pessimist nor optimist, but some weird amalgamation of t’e two. Suffice it to say: I have my days... or moments, really. Honestly, I don’t much like talking about my past—the wound is still too raw...”

There was only a brief pause before the voice continued. “But I feel like if I do not talk about it, it will plague me more t’an it already does,” and a sigh followed. “I have no recollection of t’e way life was before t’e nukes went off—I was still a tiny t’ing. I know t’at pops died to the Rabid X disease working for the government, so t’at let ma to raise me on her own. Beyond t’at? I sorta grew up in t’e apocalypse. It was t’e only way of living I knew.”

The recorder moved, evident from the friction noise that rubs against its microphone as Letitia shifted in her bed. “We stayed in our house for as long as we could, but eventually it was too unsafe and we had to pack up our t’ings and head out. For a while, we lived in a small camp wit’ a pretty large population of furs from around the country, and t’ere was no shortage of fun to be had. T’ere weren't many kids, but we made t’e best of it, all things considered. Mom was a seamstress and she taught me everyt’ing she knew—t’e only good t’ing she gave me,” she huffed, then, with clear disdain.

“T'e circumstances of our life aside, t’ings were pretty good for a while. But I have learned enough now to know t’at good t’ings are never meant to last...” And then? There was silence save for the faint humming of static.”
“We were ambushed,” the voice meekly spoke as if caught up on the memories. “T’ere were at least twenty apes that ravaged our campsite in broad daylight. We never even saw it coming...” Another sigh. “It was a massacre... humans and furs lay dead, and what few of us were ’lucky’ enough to have our lives were locked in a cage on wheels and carted off like livestock.

“T’e men called t’emselves Purists—as if t’eir blood was not and could not be tainted. I had heard rumors of t’em, but t’ey left well enough alone and I had not been scared... not until then. I was beaten for my defiance--broken down to do t’eir bidding. This was not t’e life I intended to live. I waited for death... I begged for it every night, and yet, it never came. We only saw the light of day when t’ere was work to be done or men to be laid... luckily I was spared from the latter part of that more often t’an not; I t’ought mot’er,” and the title was practically spat into the recorder, “was so kind in sparing me t’e horror. I wanted to go in her stead--to give her reprieve from their brutality, but when I tried to do so do you know what I found instead? She was in love with one of them.” The shock and horror was evident in her voice by then, “She enjoyed t’e ape's company and... ugh, I get sick talking about it.”

“Betrayed by my own mot’er... I could not even look her in t’e eyes. We fought, I cried, I hit her, and when I told her I was leaving, she told him... Her lover...” There was a sound of exasperation in her voice by this point, and a few sniffles indicated that she fought back tears. I packed as many supplies as I could into one of t’eir backpacks when he approached me, twisting my arm to make me face him... he started to beat me while she looked on, and I don’t know how I mustered t’e strengt’, but I fought back wit’ everyt’ing I had in me. I didn’t see it coming when he lashed a branch across my face, but I felt the cool of t’e blood sinking into my fur...”

“To be honest, I don’t even know how I got away from him... but I know I ran and ran for what seemed like days before I made it to perceived safety. I made a home for myself—it’s just a tent but it’s mine... my little patch of earth in t’is godforsaken basin. It took a while before I had enough supplies to make a living for myself seamstressing, but now I am overflowing. T’e blindness has not stopped me, no, but it instead has strengt’ened my resolve.”

“I am broken, yes. But I am happy...” Click. Nothingness.