Dead Weight- Prologue

Just a short story based on my character Ezzie from Indigena (The Storybook)

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The young Ezra stared fearfully at her uncle. The man's pudgy face stared back, unblinking. "What?" He bellowed, his breath smelling of alcohol and deep-fried foods.

"Nothing." Ezzie squeaked out, her dark brown hair falling in her face. "Nothing, Uncle Garret."

"Better be nothing, you lousy, good for nothing little girl." He shot back at the short, thirteen year old. She flinched at his gruff voice. "What?"

"N-Nothing." She stuttered, her cheeks burning.

He grunted. "Get me another beer."

Ezra wanted to reply with 'Get it yourself, you lazy pig.' but she would end up with a whipping. So, she held her tongue like Aunt Margaret taught her, and scurried to the kitchen to retrieve the alcoholic beverage.

When she came back, her uncle was shuffling into the hallway, towards the bathroom. She sighed, and set the beer on the coffee table. Garret's muddy boots lay on the ground next to it, and Ezzie knew that Aunt Margaret would chew her out if she let them lay there, so she took them to the kitchen and cleaned them.

She had been staying with her Aunt and Uncle for the past two years, since her grandparents moved into Shady Oak Retirement Center in Chicago, IL.

He came back then. "Stupid girl, do you not know how to uncap a man's beer?"

"S-Sorry, Uncle."

"How will you ever marry?"

Ezzie's hands shook and she fought down the angry words that stung in her head. "I do not know, Uncle. I should know better."

"Damn right, you should." He grumbled, as he flopped onto the sunken-in couch. "Get me food."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Onkel, you stupid, worthless..." His insults blurred together, and Ezzie drifted into her dreamland. Her eyes became saggy after a while, and she looked up into her Uncle's eyes. She hadn't noticed that he had stopped talking.

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

"Pay attention, Fotze!" He spat at her, his hand raising up and slamming against her cheek.

Ezra's breath was knocked out of her as she fell to the ground, her long dress pooling around her. The grimy linoleum was cold against her face, but the stench was terrible. She fought the urge to gag and looked up at her uncle through thick lashes. He glared down at her, his empty bottle in his other hand. She slowly sat up, and pressed a shaky hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth of the blood there. She knew there would be a bruise, but she always had them, so it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, dipping her head slightly. He 'hmph-ed' and gripped her upper arm. "I'll do better next time."

"No, you won't." He replied, his voice uncaring and level.

"Uncle," She began, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Uncle, why?" Her voice was a broken whisper, her eyes large and afraid.

"I have no choice. If you will not listen, you must be punished."

She was yanked up roughly. She felt a bruise forming on her arm, but she was glad to be up from the cold, grubby floor. Her uncle pulled her to the closest door. It's knob held a single key, and with a great shove, Ezra's small, frail body tumbled in. He stared down at her, before closing the door.

It was then that she let all of her tears fall, and she collapsed with a sob. She had no clue of when she would be let out, but she hoped it was soon.

Margaret approached the rundown house, and pushed the door open. Her husband lay on the couch, absent mindedly flipping through channels on the television. "Ezra?"

"In the room."

Margaret sighed. "What did she do this time?"

"Spacing out when I was talking to her."

Margaret sighed. "That isn't as bad as last time. Perhaps you should be more lenient on her punishment?"

"Are you telling me how to raise my niece?" His voice raised slightly, his dark eyes flickering to his wife's thin face. He began to sit up.

"Of course not, honey." she replied quickly. "I was just... suggesting."

"Huh. Whatever." He replied, reaching for the beer. "Get her some bread, why don't you?"

Margaret nodded, and quickly stepped into the kitchen, curling her lip in disgust at the dirty floor and peeling wallpaper. She opened the bread box and placed a roll on her hand, before taking a mineral water and re-entering the living room. She opened the door to the bedroom and smiled sadly at her niece.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret." Ezzie whispered, not bother to even turn around.

"You need to pay attention." Margaret replied, setting down the water on the ground beside Ezra. "Don't apologize to me."

Ezra nodded, sniffing. She took the roll gingerly and set it on her lap.

"I'm still sorry." She mumbled, after her aunt left.

~

"Get up." A blow of pain was delivered to her stomach. "Girl." He said, again. "Get up."

She slowly raised her head and resisted the urge to glare. Instead, she smiled. "Good morning, Uncle."

"Shove it. Get up, you're making breakfast."

She nodded, drowsily, staggering to her feet. The roll from last night lay half eaten by her head, and she could taste it's staleness on her plump, pink lips.

Ezzie followed her uncle to the kitchen, when she began cooking. Her aunt shuffled in a few minutes later, dressed in a pale gray robe. She patted Ezra's head as she passed, and prepared herself a mug of coffee.

It was just another normal day, for Ezzie. She just couldn't wait until her parents came to retrieve her from her uncle, if they ever did.