The sound of spoons clanging against plates seemed loud. It's not as if an empty plate with a meager amount of food could really produce such noise, but the silence magnified it. The older daughter always wondered, How could four people sit at a dinner table in such utter silence? Total silence… except for the clinking of utensils.
Every few seconds, after she chewed, the infant opened her mouth and sighed, signaling to her older sister that she was ready for another bite. The older sister, with her long brown hair and wide eyes, sat in front of a plate she hadn't touched. She fed the baby with a smile, watching her younger sister's chubby, rosy cheeks move as she chewed. That's how it had always been—at least since her mother gave birth to the younger sister and she started taking care of her.
And her mother? She had been like this: her own plate untouched, not eating, not sleeping, just staring.
Staring at what, That what the girl asked herself every day.
The only plate that was touched, the only one that got scraped by a spoon again and again, was her father's. But today, he hadn't touched his food either. Had the girl's cooking been bad?
The baby sighed for another bite, and she obliged, feeding her another spoonful. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her father watching her. Why was he looking at her that way? Fear crept into her heart.
Before she could question it—why he hadn't touched his food, why he was looking at her—he opened his mouth and said, "The time has come, Seeta. You have to go to Azar. He'll know what to do. Tonight! We'll go tonight."
The baby sighed again.
But Seeta put down the spoon and stared at her father in fear. Her heart pounded as she said, "Father… I'll join the Frata army."
The ringing in her ears… it was worse than anything else, worse than her father's slaps. If his hands weren't so large, maybe his slap wouldn't have reached her ears. He slammed his hand down on the table angrily after hitting her, sending the untouched plates clattering.
In a loud voice, he said, "You selfish girl! Who will pay for the house, your mother, and your sister?! How can you even think of something like this?! Leaving and joining the army!"
Her cheek turned red, and her eyes followed suit, blood vessels bursting beneath the surface. In a furious outburst, she shouted, "What about you?! Why don't you work father?!"
She shouldn't have said that.
Her father snarled, his voice turning terrifying. "Your mother spoiled you too much, didn't she…"
She squeezed her eyes shut. She really hated the ringing in her ears. And there it was—she could hear the air rustle around her, hear the slap, feel that hot sting on her face.
But her ears didn't ring. The warmth she felt on her face was… damp, almost comforting. Slowly, Seeta opened her eyes to find her mother hugging her. Her mother had taken the slap instead of her.
Her father grabbed the mother's hair angrily. "What do you think you're doing, you whore?"
The mother clutched his hand, kissing it in supplication. "Let me talk to her… Leave her to me…"
He didn't care. He didn't care that she hadn't spoken for weeks, or months? He couldn't remember and didn't care. He just ground his teeth in anger and left. If she could convince Seeta, fine. If not, so be it.
Seeta broke down, crying in her mother's embrace, while her mother gently patted her back. How she'd missed her mother, missed her warmth, her smile, her voice. Through choked sobs, Seeta mumbled disjointed words. "I don't want to… I don't want this, Mom… I want to join the Frata army. I don't want to stay here."
Her mother patted her back again. "It's all right; your mama is here."
Seeta tightened her grip on her mother—until her mother said, "Seeta, beautiful girls shouldn't do men's work, and who is prettier than you?"
At that moment, Seeta wished her mother had remained silent. Her face twisted with anger and pain as she looked at her mother's gentle, calm expression—like she hadn't just shattered her daughter's heart into pieces.
Her mother went on, "Our beautiful daughter, envied by everyone, wanted by everyone… you would be the most beautiful of Azar's girls."
"What?" Seeta managed to say.
Her words caught in her throat. She pulled away from her mother's embrace. "What are you saying… You want me to work for Azar?"
The mother's calm face became frightening. In a voice close to a scream, she shouted, "You want to leave me and go away?! Why do you want to leave me and join the army?! What did I ever do to you?! Krite!!!" She kept screaming, "Kriiiite!!!"
Seeta's father rushed in at the sound of his wife's cries. She called out, "Take her, Krite! Don't let my daughter slip through my fingers!"
Seeta watched as her mother began to weep, giving her that kind, pleading look. What did she want from her? Hadn't she fed her baby sister, bathed her, cooked lunch, cleaned the house? Wasn't that enough?
Her father lifted Seeta and walked toward the door as she pounded her small fists against his back. Her mother yelled with all her strength, "Seeta, do your best!"
Seeta mumbled, "Mother… why… why couldn't you stay silent…"
It didn't matter how many times she hit her father's back, begging him to put her down. It was like a mosquito bite—annoying, but hardly enough to make someone turn back just because a mosquito bit them on their way.
She pleaded, "Put me down, Father… Aren't I your daughter? You'd let men do whatever they want to me at Azar's? Don't you care about me, about my body?"
He didn't answer.
Disgust bubbled inside her. These words didn't affect him at all. Why was she groveling, begging him, trying to stir his sympathy? He had no heart. He wouldn't listen.
Tears soaked her face and his shirt. "Fine, then I won't go to the army. I'll stay here and clean the house and cook and take care of my sister. Mother is sick, right? If that's not enough, I'll work too. I can sew—I'll sew shoes, sew clothes, I'll sell food."
Still not enough.
She struck his back harder. "Put me down, Father! Put me down! I'll kill myself if I have to go to Azar!"
When he finally released her, he threw her so hard that her head smacked against the wall behind her. She clutched her head and saw her father's trembling face.
He roared, "If you kill yourself, I'll kill your sister and mother! Then I won't care about money and won't need a single kirto!"
He grabbed her head in his fist and growled, "Don't you move from here. I'm going to get Azar."
As if she could move anyway. Her legs wouldn't support her. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol wafted from the first floor of that large five-story building. On the first floor, Azar's girls and boys served drinks at the most famous tavern in Bial. You could do anything you wanted with the first-floor workers—the "ugly" ones not as valuable as the rest. A night with "the first floor" cost 50 kirto.
Her head still spun, her vision blurred. But… was that a blond boy smiling at her? Was he Azar? He looked so young.
He approached, still smiling gently. "Are you all right?"
Her eyes unfocused, drifting to the top of the gates surrounding the town. She shut them to stop her head from spinning and weakly replied, "Just… go."
He smiled. "I'm Nier. And you?"
Seeta opened her eyes. He wasn't Azar, In a halting voice, she said, "Seeta."
Nier's smile remained, though his face trembled slightly. "Hello, Seeta. That man who carried you… did he kidnap you?"
For some reason, Seeta felt like she could say everything right then to this stranger. Tears streamed down her face. "He's… he's my father." She buried her face in her hands. "I don't want to work here… I don't!"
Nier tilted his head, confused. "What?"
Seeta sobbed, "I don't want this. I want to join the Frata army."
He regarded her for a moment, then said softly, "Seeta…"
She pulled her hands away from her face. Why was he so close? He stood right in front of her, one hand braced against the wall behind her, a knife in his other hand. She felt foolish. He must be working for Azar. She should push him away. But that smile… why did it still feel kind?
Nier raised the knife to Seeta's face. She squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the blade slice through something, She opened her eyes, terrified, feeling something soft land on her bare feet.
What had he done? Stabbed her? She felt no pain. She looked down at her feet in horror. Her hair—her entire hair—was on the ground. With one swift motion, he had cut it all off.
Her long locks, which her mother adored, which the girls of Bial envied—gone. She'd always been told by her mother, "If you were at Azar's, you'd be on the fifth floor," where the prettiest girls and boys were kept. An hour with someone from the fifth floor cost 20,000 kirto.
Seeta couldn't look him in the eyes anymore. She kept mumbling, wondering if he would kill her. Why couldn't she move? Was she that scared?
Nier looked at her puzzled and said, "what? You still look pretty." Seeta looked at him, confused but before she can do anything, Nier took his knife to her face, slicing her cheeck.
It stung, her tears mixed with her blood as they ran down her face. Nier smiled. "Ah, look at you. Azar won't accept you now. He doesn't take ugly girls or scarred ones. Maybe he'll take you once everyone joins the army and there aren't many girls left. So… join the army."
Seeta gasped, holding back her tears, her eyes brimming as she looked at Nier!
"What?" Seeta mumbled. What just happened?
Elir emerged from the five-story building, his eye swollen and his lip bleeding. He noticed Nier standing next to Seeta. Before he approached, Nier gave Seeta a final smile and ran toward Elir. "See you in the army, Seeta. Do your best."
She couldn't tell how much time passed before her father and Azar came out. She was still staring at Nier's fading silhouette.
Azar stood there in a sleeveless shirt—once white but now covered in stains—reeking of something foul. Counting his money, he looked up at the father's angry growl as he shook his daughter. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
Seeta trembled. "Someone… and he ran off when he heard you coming."
Azar eyed her, sneering. "What's this, man? I won't buy a damaged good. No one will want her. Azar's place is already full of beauties before enlisting. I'm not paying you just so she can sit on her butt and eat!"
Her father yanked Seeta's arm so hard it nearly popped out of place. "Let's go home."
Seeta didn't pound on his back, didn't beg or plead.