text: "Rica, you've been cocooned in luxury your entire life, blind to anything beyond your own gilded existence!” The enigmatic woman had the gall to sneer at me with chilling familiarity. Indeed, my existence had been steeped in material opulence. My lineage traced back to the illustrious founders of Syphon - visionaries who had transformed a wild expanse of trees into a bustling town of prosperity, complete with well-kept homes, sleek vehicles, and a skyline punctuated by lofty buildings. My family’s wealth and influence were interwoven into the town's fabric, cementing our status as revered benefactors. I, like many of my privileged peers, was content to luxuriate in this bliss. Thus, no one outside of my home ever dared to utter a harsh word in my presence, let alone direct one at me. That is, until the day she arrived in a whirlwind of defiance and mystery and shattered my illusions with her single, scathing remark. .............................. It was a warm, lazy afternoon when I decided to slip from the grandiose gates of the estate to meet my girlfriend away from the prying eyes of my family. I slipped into the nearby woods and stopped along a familiar stream, the cool water a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. Cash was there, leaning against a tree, her grin lighting up her face when she saw me. "Hey," I said, forcing a smile as I brushed her off playfully to avoid wrinkling my new chemise. As we reclined on the lush grass, Cash’s eyes sparkled. “Picture this, Rica: just the two of us, far from all this,” she said, sweeping her hand towards the towering trees. “No more hiding in the woods--just freedom.” I laughed incredulously. “And what would we do out there? We have everything we need right here.” Cash’s expression grew sombre. “Do we, or do we just have everything without appreciating the toil or skill it requires to produce? Do we really know about the world?” Her words struck a nerve, but I brushed it off, unwilling to dwell on the topic. “What’s wrong with enjoying what we have and why should we bother to learn to make it? Isn’t that what the people from Battered are for?” Cash picked at her grey nail polish, looking away. “I just feel like we can’t stay sheltered forever. There is an entire world out there we never consider exploring.” As the sun began to set, I made my way back home. Cash’s remarks lingered in my mind, irritating me with her lack of appreciation for everything we had. She spoke of escape, of breaking free from expectations, as if our lives of privilege were burdens rather than blessings. Indeed, we were meticulously groomed to uphold a legacy of impeccability and routine. From birth, we were steered through a carefully curated education system, predefined career paths, and a steady stream of social events that reinforced our place within the grand tapestry of our society. Every aspect of our lives was dictated by a supreme social order designed by my family's founders to maintain the delicate balance of power and prestige that we all enjoyed to this day. This was precisely why I had to clandestinely nurture my relationship with Cash. While she was undoubtedly wealthy, she was not the suitable match my family had predetermined for me. When I was born, my future was sealed with a union to my cousin. It mattered not that I harboured no affection for him. My parents’ marriage was a fitting example--an immaculate alliance, yet strangers within their home. As I approached the grand gates of the Lucre estate, I noticed her dressed in the distinctive uniform worn by the Battered when they were in Syphon. Although none of them had ever ventured so close to the estate before, she appeared to be quite familiar with the surroundings and confident where she stood. “Rica, did you hear me!?” Her words struck me like lightning. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the implications. I knew my birth mother ran away to Battered when I was three years old. Hence, I never expected to lay eyes on her again. But there was no denying this was her. Though emaciated, she seemed to tower over me, her silhouette sharp and imposing against the fading light. Despite her gaunt frame, there was an undeniable resemblance between us with the high cheekbones, full lips, and the same piercing eyes. It was like looking into a shadowed, aged mirror, a haunting vision of how I might appear if I too were from Battered. I shuddered at the thought. This was an apt name for a town and people worn down by time and hardship. Her name was Penury, and she spoke of Battered with a mixture of sorrow and admiration. I had always known about Battered’s plight--how its once lush fields and bountiful mines had been ravaged into a wasteland. I had accepted the impositions enforced by the Lucre family as necessary measures for progress for that town that had been under our purview for some time. Just as tough love is meant to bring order and compliance, I knew my family's rules added stability to what I believed was otherwise a chaotic and mismanaged place. Those same rules would have been rendered moot in a utopia like Syphon, where civilisation was at its zenith. But Penury’s words turned my understanding on its head. Her account painted a picture of relentless exploitation at the hands of Syphon. She claimed that what I had been told was a necessary management of resources was, in reality, unyielding oppression. Anyone who resisted the status quo from either town were ruthlessly crushed and dissent was swiftly silenced. She asserted that she too was part of our family, a Lucre who had fled to Battered and changed her given name after uncovering the grim reality behind the policies we had always justified. She revealed that, although the family permitted her to escape, they had ruthlessly barred her from taking me there as well. "Good!" I sighed to myself. The idea of being raised in Battered, amidst desolation and suffering, was unbearable to me. Yet her perspective stripped away the veneer of benevolence that had always shrouded our actions--especially in my eyes. As Penury’s revelations sank in, I was forcibly reminded of Cash’s unsettling questions. Her words had felt provocative at the time, but now, in light of Penury’s truth, they held new gravity. "Do we truly have everything, or do we just have it all without appreciating the toil and skill required to produce it?" "Why now?" I asked her, my voice trembling. "Why are you here telling me this now?" Tears welled up in Penury's eyes. "Your younger sister, Penny, is very sick. She has a rare blood disorder and needs a bone marrow transplant. You might be her only hope. But you need to understand why this is important, why you of all people must help her." The enormity of her words sank in slowly. I had always wanted a sister. Now I had one who was a Battered, and suffering while I lived in comfort. And yet, as Penury spoke of the abject poverty in Battered at the apparent hands of my family and town, a part of me resisted. I had been happy here. Why should I sacrifice my happiness for a sister I had never known and a "mother" who had abandoned me to live frivolously in the slums of Battered? So what if she even ushered me here--did that oblige me to concern myself with her choices or the fallout of her ill-thought out actions? A bone marrow transplant would have been an easy procedure if she had stayed in Syphon; we would merely locate a compatible donor from Battered and proceed with the process. The irony of this, however, finally hit me with full force. "I don't know what to do," I admitted, overwhelmed by the revelations. My voice was barely above the whisper of the evening's wind. "You have a choice to make," Penury said gently. "And a real family waiting for you in Battered. I know what it means to be a Lucre--the pretense, the crushing expectations, loneliness in abundance." She spoke with a trace of bitterness. I gazed at her, feeling the heavy weight of her words mirrored in her tired eyes. If she genuinely intended the best for her child, why conceive in a place like Battered in the first place? Surely she must have anticipated that such an endeavour would come with its own share of suffering. What further responsibility was expected of me, beyond the charitable gestures my town extended to Battered, especially on our designated days of giving to the desolate? My mind raced with conflicting thoughts as I wrestled with the moral imperative to help Penury and Penny. "I can't help you," I said finally. "You shouldn't have left this life behind." Her expression crumpled, hope fading into despair. "Rica, please listen--" But I shook my head, meeting her gaze with resolve. "You shouldn’t have left me," I stated flatly, before turning away.