The hotel, once slumbering in the morning, was now roaring with noise. Chair scrapes, raised voices, forks clinking, every room was filled with different sounds, made by man or utensil. You would imagine that a hotel would be managed by all different kinds of employees from different areas of expertise like chefs, masseuses, or people who don’t have an area of expertise, like managers or maids. But this seemingly perfect hotel had a tiny crack on its image that opened the gates for greater cracks until the hotel was just holding on by a thread. This “perfect” hotel had a measly employee count of three. Not thirty, not even thirteen, three women. 

For them, sleep wasn’t something that was always there waiting for them with open arms. Three to four hours of sleep may seem way too less for us, people who haven’t yet gotten the taste of pure hard work, but for them, it was practically sleeping for ages. These three women were something like the three musketeers but in their case, it wasn’t the king they were protecting, but quite the opposite. They were protecting the Americans who couldn’t pay for the piling, unreasonable taxes from the king. The only thing holding them from breaking, was each other. A mother and her children, who were twins.

But you may ask, why would they work in a hotel without any workers? Wasn’t that just self-torture? Were they forced? It wasn’t because they were forced, it wasn’t that they didn’t have dreams. The exact opposite, the younger twin wanted to become a writer and the older sister wanted to become a professor. There were many places they wished to visit. So why did they just give their dreams up? Why did they give up on their lives before it barely even started?

To put it simply, it was because of the high possibility of death. If they didn’t, the newspaper wouldn’t just have the now so normal news of rising taxes or more soldiers arriving, but news of dead bodies found in homes. In their minds, saving even one person would be worth much, much more than their “worthless” dreams. 

You may wonder, what exactly was in their minds when they had to go through this much hard work? They didn’t always want to work there, well… one of the twins didn’t, the other enjoyed the work. But no, she didn’t run away nor did she stop doing the work given to her. She stopped herself from getting too many rebellious thoughts by thinking of her twin. But, rebellious feelings can’t be kept in for long, it’s like a virus, growing inside your body until it covers everything, every inch, every vessel, every corner, and turns your thoughts into ones without reason. 

A cure? To those with these rebellious thoughts, you can try to suppress the virus as long as you want but the finish will not be changed. The only way to truly let go is to do the things you crave. But no, rebellious thoughts aren’t bad, they can be a way to push yourself to do things that you have never done. Now back to that one rebellious twin…

 ***

A breezy spring day with dozens of birds swirling in circles, chasing each other, chirping together, a feeling of calmness, or even happiness should have filled me like any normal human being, right? But… this feeling…why was it a feeling of jealousy? A feeling of frustration perhaps? 

“Elizabeth!” A sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. Elizabeth’s twin stood at the doorway between the kitchen and the garden of the hotel, a repeated motion that she performed everyday. Command, walk away, repeat.

“Stop standing there daydreaming and get to work. We need 5 towels in room 18. After that, go to the kitchen and start washing those plates, it’s practically a mountain now. After washing the plates, which if you do work quickly, it should be around 5. Go clean up the rooms then, some are complaining about the stench of some rooms.” Sarah ordered, her shoes clacking against the floor, going back to the kitchen. 

My feelings were like a bucket, but there was no emptying of it, only filling. Any other emotion like happiness would be embraced by me, but a rebellious feeling? I shoved the feeling back down like what I do everyday. How could I refuse? So many people were suffering and I had a comfortable life all along, to feel angry about this would be selfish. I grab five towels and head towards room 18 like an obedient sister, but a clamorous sound outside attracts my attention.

Sarah won’t notice if I head out for just a few minutes, only to check out what’s happening...  Before thinking my choices through, I darted through the door and what I saw made me recheck again and again until I was sure about the scene. A crowd was hovering around the mayor’s house and through the window, something black was pointing out, its barrel pointing out, a hand coming closer to the trigger. My blood chilled as I understood the severity of the situation. Though no one in the screaming crowd had noticed it, things were going to flip upside down in just a few seconds. Someone’s loved one would fall into the hands of the cunning and humorous grim reaper, and the pain they would feel would equate to the pain the fallen had felt before… “Liza.” My sister grabbed my arm and started to yank me back into the cage full of never ending chores. 

“Get back in here and do your wor–” My sister’s words were cut off when a sharp movement from my side made her mouth drop open. Though I had never disobeyed my sister, the current scene was too much for me to obey her. 

I ran toward the crowd and I started yelling at them to get away, but I was too late, my legs were too slow. Because of me, someone would die, because of me, a whole family would be mourning. I couldn’t reach the area in time. A loud pop ran through the crowd. It was because of me if someone died, because of my legs, because I couldn’t reach them fast enough. Everyone ducked, I prayed to God that no one was hurt and everything was just fine. But the unsettling red color of blood was starting to drip through the crowd. Someone pushed a lane through the people so the person could be carried out. Everyone could see who the fallen one was. I was right. Someone’s loved one would die. But this was not someone else’s, it was mine.

Ethan. How did a world so cruel just become much crueler in a few seconds? The world took away my dreams, my brother, and now? The only person I could trust, the only person who knew all my secrets, the person who knew where my heart was in the world. I knelt on the ground before the body. I tried looking away from the body in front of me, but I couldn’t, it was as if I was possessed.

I reached for his hands but before I could, someone screamed. Everyone turned towards the person behind the crowd, the person who was staring at the body in horrified and unbelieving eyes, with her family trailing behind. His mother, the person who would feel the pain in their hearts more than me and everyone else combined. No pain can compare to that of a mother mourning, whether the death of your sibling or the death of your lover. 

His mother slowly walked forward and her eyes switched between me and his body. A tear slipped down her pale porcelain skin, her head tilted, her eyes tearing up. Her legs collapsed onto the ground, her hands cupping the face of the person who was crossing the line that separated the living and the dead. Sobs filled everyone’s ears, but why didn’t I cry? Why did I feel so numb? Why did all I do was grip onto his hands as if that would solve all the problems in my world?

A feeble voice coming out of the body in front of me made the tears of his family stop in the middle of their tracks. “Don’t mourn my death.” A hacking cough stained my white apron that Mother had never let me get dirty into the unsettling dark color of blood. “Get ready for the coming war.” And with that, he closed his eyes and we could hear his breaths, until it wasn’t there anymore. Dying so young, surely he was terribly overwrought with sadness. But surprisingly, his face held not a face of pain but his trademark smile. The only part of his face that showed a sign of regret of leaving so soon was the watery drop sliding down his cheeks.