Jewel's Rules

(Warning: Contains violence and allusions to sexual assault.)

The sun peeked above the Eastern Hill and shone on Jewel’s face through her window. She awoke to the sensation of warm light flooding her body, as she always did. She lay in bed for a moment, letting gratitude affect her before any other emotion. She always thought it was beautiful that the sunlight traveled all the way from the sky, to the Earth, and through her window. 

She crept out of bed and out of her room and shouted for her Mama.

The action made her look childlike– her clumsiness in the transition from sleep to wake, the desperate way in which she longed for her mother; the truth was that she was not a child, and her real mother was in a town many miles away. 

She tiptoed through the hallway, scared to wake Mama. Despite their house harboring only the two of them, Jewel and her mother owned the biggest estate in Dandelon. And though it was the biggest, it was also the oldest– and the creakiest. Regardless of structural shortcomings, however, the home was beautiful. The living quarters were upstairs, including Jewel’s room, Mama’s room, a guest room, and one washroom. Upon descending the stairs, one would find themselves in the living room. To their right, the kitchen; to their left, a dining room; and straight ahead, a foyer attached to a guest bathroom. 

But Jewel’s favorite part of the house was not the number of rooms– it was the number of windows. Most days, the windows were where Jewel spent the majority of her time. On weekdays, she did chores by the windows; on Saturdays, she knitted by the windows; but Sundays were her favorite. On Sundays, she painted by the windows. Her current project was to paint the Eastern Hill, and it was her favorite project thus far. She only wished she had a better view of it. 

Two Sundays ago, she tried to get a better look by sitting in the fields behind the house. She dragged a kitchen chair outside, and planned to plant it just a few yards east of the house– she didn’t make it two steps off the front porch before Mama was howling for her return. 

As punishment for going towards the Hill without permission, Jewel wasn’t allowed to paint at all that Sunday. She learned her lesson quickly.

This day, however, was a Saturday. That meant that Jewel would knit by the windows, unless Mama planned for them to make a trip to town. But upon descending the stairs and calling out for her Mama three times, Jewel found that she was alone. 

She stood in the living room, her blue eyes swimming with confusion. She stepped onto the porch and looked out into the fields. To the left, there was nothing but their rugged road and the distant image of town. To the right, there was the alluring Eastern Hill.

And, in the distance, a stranger.

Jewel was so shocked at the appearance of another person that she almost ignored him entirely. She popped her head back into the house before realizing fully what she had seen. But upon a second glance, she knew that her vision had informed her correctly: there was a man. 

She could hardly make him out. He was wearing black and brown clothes, and his face seemed to be obscured by facial hair. Beyond that, his appearance was vague. Yet, she was fascinated by him. 

And then, he waved at her.

Jewel’s eyes got wider. Questions started running through her head: who is this man? Did he know her? Was he lost, or in trouble?

“Jewel!” 

Startled, Jewel jumped and pulled herself into the house. She turned around to find the source of the voice.

“Mama?” she said.

Behind her, her mother was holding a white-frosted cake with a “1” on it. She looked at her mother’s face; she was smiling a great, big, motherly smile.

“Oh, Mama, I was looking for you!” Jewel stepped closer to admire the cake, still unsure of what it was for.

“I was just preparing your gift, my flower. You didn’t forget, did you?”

Jewel’s face lit up suddenly, in a moment of remembrance. 

“My anniversary?”

Mama nodded. She set down the cake on the kitchen counter and pulled Jewel into a hug. “It finally is, Jewel. You want to go put on your prettiest dress?”

Jewel nodded. Mama gestured for her to go change, and she rushed to do so. 

“Hurry down! We’ll have cake for breakfast.”

The first day Jewel was found in Dandelon, she awoke as she always did; with sunlight shining on her face. Only, instead of the sunrise, it was the sunset. 

She was laying in a field, and the first thing she remembered was a number of people swarming around her. For some reason, the excitement of it all made her cry. Gaining the attention of the bystanders, she heard the first few sentences spoken to her: clamors of “Are you alright?” and “How did this happen to you?”

Upon establishing that Jewel had no memory of ending up where she was or getting injured so severely in the head, it was not long before everyone, including Jewel, discovered that she also had no memory of who she was or where she came from. Subsequently, it was then not long before she was given a name, a meaning behind her name, and a guardian: Jewel, because her eyes glittered so magnificently in the sun, and Mama, whose real name was unknown to Jewel even after a full year of living with her. 

Jewel was then placed in Mama’s control and would remain there for a full year, with the exception of holidays and emergency trips to town. Winter, Jewel would come to find, was her favorite part of the year, for holidays and emergency trips were frequent. The only drawback was the dreadfulness of the walk to town during wintry conditions.

Along with the isolation of her new life, Jewel also had to follow a set of rules. No speaking to strangers before introduction, which encapsulated nearly every person except the pastor; no looking in mirrors, for it would heighten one’s inclination to vanity; and no venturing outside, unless it was within the first three yards in the front lawn under Mama’s supervision.

There was one rule that Jewel looked forward to, however– the rule stating that Jewel would enter the world fully upon one year of her living in Dandelon. 

And on this Saturday, after a year of isolation and curiosity, that rule would finally set Jewel free. 

Of course, she knew no one in town, and Mama would have to guide her everywhere. Plus, she was still consistently warned to avoid mirrors. But above all else she knew that she would get to finally experience what it meant to be a normal Dandelon citizen. And at the very least, a citizen of any community at all. That, more than anything, told Jewel that the beginning of her life was about to unfold. 

So, she put on her favorite dress– a pink, silky dress that flowed as she moved– and she and Mama walked to town. When Mama asked where Jewel wanted to go first, her answer without hesitation was the market. Mama tried to persuade her otherwise, telling her that most respectable young women would request to see the church before anything else. Jewel reminded her that she had seen the church five times before, for five different holidays, and that five was more times than she had seen any other building in the world.

“Oh, I know, dearest. It’s just– the church has its own kind of sparkle on a Saturday. The silence in there is breathtaking, my Jewel. We’ll just have to make it there before we head home,” she said, pointing and gesturing at the church as they reached the limits of the town.

But as they drew nearer, Jewel’s mind couldn’t help but wander as she set her gaze on a man further down the street. 

The same man from earlier.

Her eyes were glued onto him only until Mama directed her attention elsewhere.

“Jewel? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Mama, I’m sorry,” she said as she turned away from the stranger. 

“I’m beginning to think that a year was too early to bring you here…” Mama said. 

Jewel shook her head fiercely. 

“No, Mama, please, I'm sorry. It’s just all a bit overwhelming, is all.” 

Mama looked at her with judgment. “Fine,” she said. “Well, the market is this way. Come along.”

She turned through an alley. Jewel looked at the man briefly before following her mother. He smiled at her. She found it strangely comforting.

The market, in Jewel’s opinion, was overwhelming but beautiful. There were dozens of people trying to sell their goods, and the goods they sold consisted of colorful fruits, noisy animals, fresh clothes, and more. Jewel couldn’t help but smile at the liveliness of the scene. She walked through the street, not necessarily looking at anything in particular– just feeling the excitement of the experience as a whole. 

“Stop here, Jewel. I have to buy some eggs.”

As her Mama spoke to the salesman, Jewel took a moment to look around with more pause. Closest to her was a man trying to sell corn; next to him was a woman selling dresses (which Jewel wished dearly she could convince her Mama to buy); and further down the line, Jewel was not surprised to again see the stranger from before. He was walking down the street, in her direction, and as he drew near Jewel felt a sensation that she hadn’t felt in the entire past year: nostalgia. 

She looked closer at the shape of his face, and the deepness of his eyes, and she felt entranced. He nodded at her and donned a hat before gesturing down another alleyway. He stopped in front of it and waited– it took a moment before Jewel realized he was beckoning for her to join him.

She smiled apologetically, and gestured at her mother with as small a gesture as possible as for her to not notice. He nodded, a bit sadly, and wandered into the alleyway on his own. He then leaned on the wall, faced Jewel, and simply stared.

She would later find out that this meant that he would wait there for her. For now, however, she was bound to her mother, who had just finished her purchase.

“Come on,” she said. “We have an appointment to keep.”

The church, Jewel thought, was not nearly as captivating as Mama had promised. But she tried not to blame the church for its lack of luster. Instead, she blamed it on the confusion she felt upon walking into the building.

At the front of the church stood ten men, each silently facing Mama and Jewel in a line. Mama moved towards them; Jewel was planted at the entrance.

“Mama,” she said, her voice a bit shaky with worry. “What is this?”

“Come, Jewel. These men are kind,” she said. Jewel did not move until Mama grabbed her arm and dragged her to the front. 

“Jewel, this is Jeb, Edward, John, Samuel–” 

“What are they here for, Mama?” she cried out, feeling the immense weight of the men’s stares. Another new emotion flooded her senses: the alarm of being preyed upon.

“Jewel, please be patient. One of these men is going to be your husband.”

Jewel’s blood ran cold. She looked down the line of men– some had a look of pride; others, a look of frightening curiosity. Mama listed their names and occupations, but Jewel felt too sickened to really listen.

“I thought today was my day, Mama. You told me that today was– today was the first day of the rest of my life!”

“It is, Jewel. Please, baby, every Dandelon woman goes through this. You are a woman of this town, are you not?”

She looked at Jewel with contempt. Jewel swallowed, and she thought. 

Despite every instinct in her body to fight, she remembered what Mama had been teaching her for the past year: that she didn’t belong in the world, and that’s why she was brought to Mama by God, to give her a place she could truly belong. But you have to be taught how to live in this world, Mama’s words echoed. You must remember to be obedient, and to not question things that have no answers.

Eventually, Jewel nodded.

“I am, Mama. I can handle it.”

“Great,” Mama said. She smiled. “Now, Jewel, which man did you want first?”

Jewel turned to them. Wordlessly, she pointed at the man in the middle.

“Samuel Granger,” Mama said. “Step up.”

And before she knew it, Samuel Granger was in front of her. She could smell his breath, and the sweat on his clothes. And then, she could feel it. His hands held her shoulders roughly.

She stepped back, but a look from Mama warned her not to do it again. She stayed still. She regretted it.

Samuel began to touch all of her; more of her than anyone had touched, including Mama.

“Stop,” Jewel said softly.

He either didn’t hear her, or didn’t care. He started to pull at her dress.

“Stop!” she cried. And this time, when he didn’t, Jewel lifted up her knee and thrust it into his groin. 

“Jewel!” Mama yelled. Sam fell to his knees, and the rest of the men stared in awe.

But Jewel saw none of the scene before she fled. As fast as she could, her legs swept her up, and she found herself running towards the stranger’s alleyway from before.

When she saw he was there, she felt so relieved that she began to cry.

She leaned against the wall and caught her breath.

“Olivia, shh,” the stranger said. “It’s okay now.”

He moved to touch her, and she batted his hand away.

“Olivia?”

“Please– shh.” She gasped for air and calmed herself. “Listen. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who Olivia is. All I know is that I’m very scared right now, and I know I’m not supposed to question things, but I would really like some answers.”

By the end of her last sentence, Jewel burst into tears and crumpled to the ground. The stranger slowly crouched next to her.

“It’s okay, Olivia. Answers are about the only thing I want to give to you right now. But you have to trust me,” he said. She looked up at him– and for some reason, she wanted to trust him more than anything she had ever felt in the world. Still, she gave no response.

“First, I’ll tell you this–” He took off his hat. “You are Olivia. One year ago, I left you here, and I shouldn’t have.” Jewel breathed deeply.

“You left me here?”

“Yes. It was a mission gone wrong–”

“What kind of mission?” she prodded.

“A mission gone wrong. This place– it’s not right. We were going to take it down,” he said, looking around. She did the same. “There’s a woman here, who we were hired to kill. ‘Mama’ is what the town calls her.” Jewel’s face went pale.

“Mama?” she looked down.

“Yeah. Do you…?”

Before he could finish, there was a call from the distance. 

“Jewel!”

Jewel crawled deeper into the alleyway.

“That’s her,” she whispered. “That’s Mama. My Mama.”

The stranger looked at Jewel, then at the street.

“Okay, listen, Olivia– Jewel– whatever you want me to call you.

He reached into a satchel and pulled out a small rounded object with a handle. 

“This might jog your memory,” he said.

As he shoved a mirror in her face, Jewel saw her visage for the first time in her memory. She noted her blue eyes (though she knew her eyes were blue, for her mother insisted they were her best trait), her red hair, and, most shockingly, a scar across her cheek. She was taken aback by her appearance– more notably, she felt the same nostalgic feeling for her reflection as she did with the stranger.

“What does this mean?” she pleaded. “And this line?” She traced the scar on her face.

“We were partners, you and me,” he said. “I’m Amos. And you are…”

“Olivia,” she finished. She finally stood up.

From the distance, she heard Mama call her name again.

“Partners of... what?” she inquired.

“Jewel!” Mama shouted again, nearly at the other end of the alleyway this time.

Amos looked at her. “Crime,” he said. Out of his satchel, he produced a gun. He handed it to her. “And your career's not over yet.”

She looked up at him, not yet taking the gun. 

“Unless you want it to be.”

Mama appeared at the end of the alleyway. 

“Jewel, my dearest,” she pleaded angrily. “What is the first rule? We don’t talk to strangers.”

Jewel looked between her and Amos. Amos simply looked at her, handing her the gun more forcefully now.

“I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you, Jewel,” she said. “Those boys, out there? Those are my sons. I just wanted to give you a good, happy life with one of them.”

Jewel took a deep breath, and looked one more time at the gun. She took it in her hands, and studied it.

“Please, sweetie? You know I’ll always be your Mama, Jewel.”

Jewel looked up at her. 

“That might be true. You’ll always be Jewel’s Mama.” 

“Yes, my love,” she said, drawing closer. “That’s right.”

Jewel looked at Amos, then down at the mirror in his hands– seeing herself. She looked back up at Mama.

“But you’ll never be Olivia’s Mama.”

She lifted her gun, and with natural precision, shot a bullet into Mama’s head.