As I was laying down in my bed, late at night, the sound of rain dripping on the pavement was the only sound that filled my room. It was the silence after the storm. Just hours ago, thousands of workers gathered outside the factory near our home to demand their right to necessities. The economy, having suffered since the war, was in shreds and the people were more frustrated than ever.

The war had wiped out most of their strength, and

the recession and industrialization of the economy led to wage cuts. The workers had been striking to get higher wages for months now but without success: my brother, James, one of them.

I stirred in the bed relentlessly as my thoughts treaded on dangerous territory. I couldn't sleep. I had the feeling of an impending blow that I wouldn't be able to stop. The cold air blew in, and wiped out my anxious thoughts along with the only candle in my room.

The wood creaked beneath my feet as I stood up in the cramped space of the room. A chair piled with unread books sat in the other corner and a torn rug covered the wooden floor. I wrapped a shawl around me and slowly open the door to the narrow hallway.

I made my way quietly downstairs, careful not to wake my sister: Alis, or my mother sleeping in the opposite room. My brother, James, was sleeping downstairs.

He stirred as I entered the drawing-room, "Ash? Is that you?"

I paused and rolled my eyes on hearing his voice.

"No, I am the ghost from across the street who came to haunt you, James," I responded, trying to stifle a giggle.

His handsome face lit up at my voice. He offered me a light chuckle as he turned his auburn head

towards me. "It's you."

"What are you doing up so late at night?" He shook his head in calm disapproval. "Close the window, would you?" he added as he shivered dramatically.

I did as he said and sat down on a chair next to him.

"I couldn't sleep..." I whispered.

I saw him looking at me in the dark as he reached out to touch my hand, "Is it because of what happened out there?"

James always knew what the other person was thinking, a person could be silent and he would know all their thoughts. I thought of lying to him but knowing James, I decided to say the truth.

"I don't like this James. When I see you protesting out there, I get so worried."

He squeezed my hand and sat up.

"Ash, you think too much," He said in a light tone, dismissing my concerns.

"You have to understand. if we do not fight now, we never will get what's our due. They will starve us to death."

"How long can this continue?" he questioned, staring into the night.

Alarmed, I started to protest. "But I don't want you to be killed or exiled to Australia. I have read the news. Just last week in a town nearby, the troops killed the protesters because just one of them attacked them! and there were no consequences, their rich owners J, they will always win.." I whispered and shouted simultaneously while clenching my shawl tighter around me.

Seeing him shaking his head, I went on,

"J, this is real life, not some story where you will become the hero. Please step away from this. We cannot afford to lose you too."

I could see that James had already made up his mind. The stubbornness was visible on his face. He was planning something, but I didn't know what.

"Everything will be okay—you will see. Things will be better. Have some faith in me," he said winking.

I pulled my hand away as I stood up.

"This isn't about faith, it's about survival. Haven't you learned anything from father's death? What does optimism bring you?" I said angrily.

His face hardened. The mention of our father was the only thing that seemed to affect him these days.

Our father had joined the army when the war had started, even though mother had begged him not to. He had died in the fight along with my mother's spirit.

"Father was a good man who did the right thing for this country, and if a time comes when there is war, I would do the same," he said as he looked away.

I scoffed. "Then you're a fool who will sacrifice his life and leave a family behind."

I turned away and went back upstairs. I was pacing in my room, and my head was pounding terribly. 'Foolishness! Utter foolishness!' I muttered. Where had he thrown all his logic? He was acting completely irrationally. I tried to be patient but for the past few months, I hadn't done anything other than watch, as he became more and more involved in the protests and put himself in harm's way. I sighed as I sat on the chair and crossed my arms angrily, someone needed to stop him.

I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleep as someone knocked on my door. I had slept on the chair. I opened the door.

It was my mother.

"Ash, it's 10 'O'clock, get ready and get some eggs from down the street," she said indifferently. I nodded and looked at my mother.

She was becoming thinner and thinner by the day, her hair was whiter. She was wearing an old gown with torn sleeves. My heart broke to see her like this. Before my father died, we had lived comfortably. He had taught in a nearby school and made a decent enough living but then the war had come, and most schools had closed.

I turned away and started getting ready. I brushed my long auburn hair and wore my grey gown with my old coat as I made my way down the street.

The street was littered with garbage and rotten food. The protest from the day before had wreaked havoc, and it was pretty obvious that no one will be cleaning the mess anytime soon. I coughed and covered my face as a fancy carriage drove down the street, leaving dust in its wake. I glanced back to see who was inside.

An old woman and a young pretty lady stepped out. There was also a young man with them, who seemed to be in his late twenties, helping them get out of the carriage. Two young girls were the last ones to hop out. The workers nodded their heads at them.

Whoever they were, one thing was very clear, they weren't one of the workers—Which meant they were here for business. I turned away as I went inside the corner shop.

"Oi, oly is the new owner here?" the shopkeeper asked one of the boys that were preparing bread.

"Yes, sir!"

I asked curiously,  "Who is the new owner, Mr.Smith?"

The more important question should have been, why was there a new owner, but I doubted Mr. Smith had the answer. He regarded me with a cold indifference before replying,

"Mr. Arthur is the new owner missy, ask your brother to mend his ways cause he won't be getting away this time." James had acquired quite a reputation for his activities.

I was at a loss for words on hearing that name- Mr. Arthur. It sent a shudder down my spine. It was the same man who I had read about in the papers, who hadn't cared that one of the soldiers had killed a protester outside his factory. I had to warn James. He had to leave the union behind if he wanted to survive any longer. This man would surely not care for the demands of the protesters. Forgetting the eggs, I turned away and started heading home quickly.

An older man was standing at the door as I arrived.

"Are you Miss Simpson?"

"Yes," I replied hurriedly.

"I am looking for Mr. James Simpson," He said.

"Whatever for?" I asked, frowning.

"We need to have a talk with him along with other factory workers. Mr. Arthur wants to meet him and discuss the working of the factory. Please ask him to meet us today at noon."

I nodded as he went away and dread filled me as I walked into the house.

"Where are the eggs?" My mother asked and I realized that I had forgotten to buy them.

"Mom, I—"

"Don't tell me you forgot them!" She exclaimed.

"I will get them right away!" I said and hurriedly turned towards the door.

I was fumbling with the handle when my mother stopped me. Looking at my expression, she said, "Ash, sit down and tell me what happened,"

I realized my hand was trembling as I sat down on the chair and took a deep breath,

"We have new factory owners," I started.

"Mr. Arthur." By my mother's expressions, it was clear she knew about the reputation that the man held.

"He wants to meet James," I finished.

My mother's face was pale as she took a deep breath.

"It is alright, James needs to leave that union and everything will be alright," she said, trying to fool herself.

"But James is determined to do something big. He won't listen to us—" I started.

"He would listen to me," She said with conviction. Even though I knew that James wouldn't.

I tried to change the subject when I realized she wouldn't listen to me.

"Where is Alis? It's time for her lessons."

I taught Alis in my free time because I loved to teach. On the weekends, I worked hard so I could be a certified governess.

"Did someone say my name?" Alis said as she peeked into the kitchen.

"Speaking of the devil.." I muttered under my breath.

"Come on, Time to learn," I said.

She made a face but came with her books, and I started teaching. The hours went by and I hoped James wouldn't do anything stupid.