Entry Number 050603A
"Vestar, hurry up! We don't have all bloody day!"
It was almost night as we were coming back to our apartment, rain and mud covering my clothes. You'd think we'd get used to to the constant storms on Arkanis but every time we were caught unguarded. It was Brendol, my grandfather who yelled that, walking in front of us with his thick cigar hanging from his mouth and ginger hair a mess even from under the Commandant hat. My hand was being tugged by my father, who I had seen happier many times than today. I was around 6 years old.
I had never met my mother and at that age the only thing my father could say about her was 'she died'. I didn't ask any more and he didn't answer any more. I didn't even know what she looked like. Growing up with only men in my life brought me to act a little off than other girls my age that braided their hairs in the hallways of my broken down building and gushed over the dresses of the new Corellian "Seleena 3000" doll. Of course I didn't have that doll or wanted it, but sometimes my curiosity would get the better of me and I'd ask the R2 we had to show me holograms of the doll. Shortly, I was not impressed.
My childhood consisted of uniforms, stoic glances and the news channel being broadcasted 24/7. Brendol was so caught up with his drinking, alcohol and drunken murmurs that he didn't notice when half his cigarettes were gone from their stash. Dad didn't like smoking in public. I didn't like my grandfather, my father liked him no more than me. They were constantly arguing over some 'cadet thing' going around in the elite Arkanis Academy for Military Officers when they thought I wasn't listening. I always wondered what it was like in those large halls and gigantic rooms where the students looked either half dead or close to breaking into tears. You could say I was raised with no compassion, no emotion. Yet, Brendol always scolded me for feeding the birds on our balcony and would shoo them away at any given time. Armitage would tsk at me but I knew he didn't mean it, as he would whisper small reassurances that it was okay to feed the birds during the rain and would slip more seeds inside my raincoat pockets whenever we went out.
You could say I had an affinity for birds, and you were probably right at that assumption. I was the "hollow boned" in my family, never eating a lot unless it was food I actually liked, which came rarely in the Hux household. I watched the birds fly and tweet at our windows and I once even had the chance to feed a black winged pigeon seeds right out of my palm.
Was it to anyone's surprise when I stopped by the sidewalk and stared at what could be described as only the writhing body of a crow? No, it wasn't.
I pulled on my father's hand as the distant grumble of my grandfather about the 'damn rain on this planet' became distant, standing in the rain only a few meters away from the entrance of our building. It was bleeding on the sidewalk, the rain washing the blood down the street and into the sewer as the bird chirped miserably. It's wing was broken and it couldn't move.
"What're you standing there for? Planning to catch pneumonia aren't you?" I heard a call from the door which was followed by loud coughs, but I didn't turn my head. My father was staring at the bird as well, tugging on my hand. "We have to go, Vestar."
It was almost night as we were coming back to our apartment, rain and mud covering my clothes. You'd think we'd get used to to the constant storms on Arkanis but every time we were caught unguarded. It was Brendol, my grandfather who yelled that, walking in front of us with his thick cigar hanging from his mouth and ginger hair a mess even from under the Commandant hat. My hand was being tugged by my father, who I had seen happier many times than today. I was around 6 years old.
I had never met my mother and at that age the only thing my father could say about her was 'she died'. I didn't ask any more and he didn't answer any more. I didn't even know what she looked like. Growing up with only men in my life brought me to act a little off than other girls my age that braided their hairs in the hallways of my broken down building and gushed over the dresses of the new Corellian "Seleena 3000" doll. Of course I didn't have that doll or wanted it, but sometimes my curiosity would get the better of me and I'd ask the R2 we had to show me holograms of the doll. Shortly, I was not impressed.
My childhood consisted of uniforms, stoic glances and the news channel being broadcasted 24/7. Brendol was so caught up with his drinking, alcohol and drunken murmurs that he didn't notice when half his cigarettes were gone from their stash. Dad didn't like smoking in public. I didn't like my grandfather, my father liked him no more than me. They were constantly arguing over some 'cadet thing' going around in the elite Arkanis Academy for Military Officers when they thought I wasn't listening. I always wondered what it was like in those large halls and gigantic rooms where the students looked either half dead or close to breaking into tears. You could say I was raised with no compassion, no emotion. Yet, Brendol always scolded me for feeding the birds on our balcony and would shoo them away at any given time. Armitage would tsk at me but I knew he didn't mean it, as he would whisper small reassurances that it was okay to feed the birds during the rain and would slip more seeds inside my raincoat pockets whenever we went out.
You could say I had an affinity for birds, and you were probably right at that assumption. I was the "hollow boned" in my family, never eating a lot unless it was food I actually liked, which came rarely in the Hux household. I watched the birds fly and tweet at our windows and I once even had the chance to feed a black winged pigeon seeds right out of my palm.
Was it to anyone's surprise when I stopped by the sidewalk and stared at what could be described as only the writhing body of a crow? No, it wasn't.
I pulled on my father's hand as the distant grumble of my grandfather about the 'damn rain on this planet' became distant, standing in the rain only a few meters away from the entrance of our building. It was bleeding on the sidewalk, the rain washing the blood down the street and into the sewer as the bird chirped miserably. It's wing was broken and it couldn't move.
"What're you standing there for? Planning to catch pneumonia aren't you?" I heard a call from the door which was followed by loud coughs, but I didn't turn my head. My father was staring at the bird as well, tugging on my hand. "We have to go, Vestar."