The prick of consciousness disturbed me from my sleep.

  Something ravenous dwelled deep inside my stomach.

  I was dreaming about something. I felt like it was important.

  Was I crying? No, I don’t think I was. I think I might have been happy. I was visiting someone… who was it? They were important to me, I felt.

  Was I eating something? I was.

  It was warm. Hot. Filling. It was… large. A soup or something liquidy. There was a big pot.

  I just-... why couldn’t I grasp it? I felt like I needed to.

  That person I was eating with, there was something I had to tell them. There was something I never got the chance to say to them. I tried to say something to them, but I just couldn’t. I felt the cowardice on my tongue. I felt the words on my lip die.

  Why? Why couldn’t I just say whatever it was I wanted – needed – to say?

  I lost exactly what it was the moment I felt the real world creep onto my fingertips and give them touch.

  I tried to hold onto whatever it was that I was dreaming of, but it all slipped from my fingers into the quiet dark of dawn.

  All that was left behind was the present world, the burning madness in my stomach, and the warm body pressed against me.

  I hugged my sister a bit tighter, the world hiding behind the blackness of my closed eyelids becoming more and more real by the second.

  The frenzy inside of me quietened, satiated a bit by the warmth of her body.

  I felt myself calm down from that mysterious sense of anguish and desperation, not even remembering what had caused it in the first place.

  I opened my eyes and looked down.

  She was sleeping still, good.

  I smiled softly, stroking her hair to comfort myself.

  I gently pushed myself out of the blanket, making sure to not disturb her rest.

  I crept out of the bedroom and made my way into the ‘living room’.

  Once I was there, I picked up a nail I had left on the counter.

  In front of me, there was a wall, marked and scarred by countless scratches and crosses. I raised my hand to the wall and dug the nail in. I dragged it down to mark the coming of another day.

  Many things changed when we secured ourselves a place we could call ‘home’.

  For one, I was finally able to take note of the passage of time. It couldn’t have been better timed, either; winter was coming some time soon, and I needed to prepare us to survive it.

  About two weeks had passed since we found this place. Winter was probably at most another month and a half away. I was still decently on track when it came to checking off everything I needed to get us.

  I propped the nail on its head and set it back down on the counter, making my way to another room in the house, one that I had claimed as my ‘study’.

  There, my still incomplete map awaited me, carved into the far wall.

  I hadn’t been able to explore much more area since we found this place; my attention was diverted towards much more important things. Instead, I made up for it by expanding on the detail and adding notes to the already explored spots.

  Small symbols to signify notable landmarks and buildings, cordoning off sectors of the map to split among the various criminal enterprises that ruled here, fleshing out little alleyways and crevices to solidify routes and expand shortcuts – I added all of that and more, enough to give us a solid guideline for some semblance of routine to provide for ourselves.

  I had to figure out where I would get us food for the day, but I also needed to be efficient while doing so. Ideally, there was something else I could get done at the same time.

  My eyes drifted to a particular spot on the map; it was nearby the place we woke up at the day we found this house, the one with the bakery and barbecue restaurant.

  I wasn’t sure, but the last time I was there, I think I caught sight of something that I brushed off as unimportant to survival at the time, but was now essential in making sure my sister grew up well.

  As much as I hated to go to the same place twice in a short span of time, what I might be able to find there was something that was very important, and given that my intuition was able to find us this place, I was willing to trust it again.

  I had to set off immediately. It was quite a distance away. I could travel fast in the morning, at least. It was much easier to run undetected when no one was up. I was fairly confident that if I ran at full speed and took the correct route, I could make it back in time for my sister to wake up.

  My journey towards the shady shopping street was uneventful.

  As usual, the gang members weren’t present, lazily sleeping off a late night. The baker had already clocked in, getting an early start for a tough job.

  It seemed I was lucky today; an oven – normally reserved for communal use – had been wheeled out closer to the front, and from around the corner, I could see more than a few things up for the taking. It seemed he was expecting a busy day if he was using more ovens than usual.

  That was fine by me, it just meant that there was more that I could take.

  I couldn’t move hastily though, I had to make sure I surveyed the entire street and planned out all of my movements beforehand.

  My eyes drifted to the right.

  Racks filled with large hunks of cold barbecue pork hung from the ceiling inside of the restaurant. It seemed like no one was staffed just yet.

  That was good. Those were much easier to take down and steal compared to the smoked duck I saw previously.

  My eyes trailed further up the street.

  And indeed, as I had suspected, what I had caught a glimpse of previously was in fact a bookstore. I would definitely have to come back later.

  Things had changed a bit since the last time I was here; just making sure my new sister was just alive wasn’t good enough. I had to make sure she grew up into a fine adult. That meant teaching her and imparting her with responsibility and wisdom. And by far the most important aspect of that was making sure she knew how to read and write.

  Unfortunately, I probably wasn’t going to be able to take any books during this particular run. I wasn’t exactly sure how durable books were in this time period and I might have risked damaging them if I just let them sit together with a bunch of food.

  I had only prepared one makeshift bag, woven from spare clothes I found around the abandoned neighbourhood. I just had to hope there wouldn’t be a ton of oil or fat leeching into the bread when it sat next to the pork. Hopefully, the meat was cooked from something like the shoulder or sourced from a wild boar.

  I reviewed my plan.

  Wait until the baker’s back was turned to the street. Run. Hop over the counter of the restaurant. Hide underneath. Slowly take one or two pork shoulders; too many would alert them in the future. Hop over again and hide somewhere close to the oven. Take whatever I could – again, be modest. Get out.

  I inhaled deeply, steadying myself, waiting for the opportunity to arise.

  A minute passed.

  Go.

  I dashed across the street, and in a smooth motion, brought my stick-like legs up over the front open-air counter of the restaurant.

  I inspected the meat before taking it down; no oddly coloured spots.

  I brought it to my nose; nothing sour, acidic or rotten.

  I groped it with my hands; cold, a bit tough, but nothing slimy or gross, and fully consistent all the way through.

  The proximity to good meat triggered something unplanned in me.

  I felt my mind glaze over.

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  My mouth started to hang open. Saliva pooled underneath my tongue. My eyes grew hazy.

  I felt the madness bubble, the delusion tingling my fingers, lapping up the smidgen of grease that covered a few of the tips.

  All the focus and careful planning went out the window.

  The ravenous thing that always lurked whispered deliciously into my ear.

  Take it all.

  I gulped, frozen.

  You deserve a reward.

  My fingers shook.

  You’ve worked so hard.

  I shook my head, desperately trying to clear my mind.

  I-I couldn’t-

  Your sister’s still sleeping. She’ll never know.

  M-my sister…

  I-I should probably… taste it for her, right?

  N-nothing much, just-...

  Just to make sure it was safe.

  I reached out to the meat, surrendering to the swirling, ever-painful magma of starvation that burned inside my stomach.

  I tore a small bit of it off, the grease on my fingertips burning and scalding me with a phantom pain.

  I chewed.

  More.

  It was cold and tough.

  More.

  But it was meat.

  More.

  Savoury. Salty. Sweet. A small touch of smokiness and spice. Gamy. It was familiar.

  It’s been so many months.

  It was addicting.

  I could feel my sanity drain by the second.

  More.

  Against my will, I reached out again.

  It’s fine. You’re just doing this to make sure it’s safe for your sister.

  I panicked – startling myself back into consciousness – the thought of my sister breaking me out of my trance.

  I found myself hyperventilating for a bit.

  M-my sister…

  I had to remember… this luxury wasn’t for me. This was for her. It wasn’t mine to take.

  The whisper of starvation didn’t stop.

  She’ll just be hungry. What was it you always said? Hunger is nothing. Hunger is fixable. But you… starvation…

  I closed my eyes, feeling my heartbeat quicken painfully, and tore down the large rectangular hunk of meat from the rack as fast as I could, shoving it into the bag.

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  The smell danced around my burning nostrils, where it was feasted upon by my senses, giving fuel to the phantom.

  Look at it. Feel it. Wasn’t it so big? So heavy? There’s no way she could finish it all by herself before it goes bad… it wouldn’t matter if you ate more…

  I grit my teeth.

  If that was the case, then I would wait until it was about to go bad and finish it off.

  I could wait, I could always wait, but she couldn’t.

  It will just be a little bit of hunger. It won’t be anything big. A little more bread and she’ll be fine.

  You need to be strong. You need to be healthy to provide for her.

  I bit down on my tongue to centre myself.

  Hunger was nothing.

  Hunger was fixable.

  That was exactly why I had to save it.

  I had to make sure it stayed as nothing; that it was always going to be fixable.

  I would take whatever remained at the end of the night, and that was final.

  I hopped back over the counter and made a mad dash towards the open bread oven, desperate to separate myself from the meat before I did something conspicuous and got myself caught.

  My slightly bloodshot eyes hungrily swept over the selection of bread.

  Unleavened bread. That went in first. It would soften up from contact with the meat. Rye bread. Good. Wheat bread. Good. Biscuits. Take those as well. They would store well for winter.

  I heard someone shuffle nearby.

  A rush of fright snapped me fully awake. The baker was moving.

  I sprinted away from the oven, clutching the bag to my chest and running away from the street without looking back even once.

  I heard a shout behind me, but no footsteps.

  They definitely saw me because of my slip-up. It wouldn’t be safe for me to come back any time soon.

  At the very least, they probably wouldn’t be able to track me back to our ‘home’. That place was in another gang’s territory.

  I stumbled back through the corners and crevices of the slums and made it back to the alley with the hole in the wall.

  Every time I left, I made sure to scatter some of the rubble around and cover up the hole, just to cover our tracks. It was helpful in keeping us safe and hidden, but it was annoying in times like these where I also had to protect food I had on me from getting dirty.

  I pushed my way through and made it back to our house, just in time for the sun to rise.

  I hurled the sack of food onto the dining table, and peeked inside it.

  I took out most of the bread, leaving behind only the unleavened loaf that was soaking up the oil and fat of the pork shoulder that was dangerous to my sanity.

  I opened one of the drawers, shoving all of the biscuits in there for the future. I scattered the rest among the few half-broken baskets we managed to scavenge and bring back.

  I snatched a long piece of bread – reminiscent of a French baguette – and broke off the end of it, throwing it into my mouth.

  I mused on random thoughts to keep myself distracted and awake.

  My eyes slowly drifted downwards, falling towards the stick of bread in my hands.

  For instance, it was odd that I was eating something like this. It really should not have existed during this era, going by what I knew.

  A lot of the architecture around me was straight out of the Middle Ages – specifically, it was very reminiscent of some towns I saw in France which were last lived in during the Hundred Years’ War, which happened during the 14th Century – but the technology to make the kind of bread I was eating, namely that of cultivating yeast, wasn’t well developed until the 19th Century.

  By my estimation, around the time period I should’ve been in, people should’ve still been making bread with barm and beer, or maybe with just a sourdough starter. I should've known because when I was travelling into very rural areas of France, that was still how some folks I met made their bread.

  And the pork as well – that was way too out of place, geographically speaking. It tasted way too familiar, almost like an exact copy of Cantonese roast pork, but that cuisine shouldn’t have appeared in the West until late into the colonial era, around the 19th Century with outbound Chinese emigration when sailing was commonplace.

  What kind of extremely confusing place and time period was I in, exactly?

  And on top of all of that, the people around me spoke English. I was unfathomably lucky in that regard. Only God knew what would’ve happened if I found myself in Renaissance Italy or some place like that.

  My confused musings were interrupted by the sounds of light footsteps through the house.

  My sister had woken up, saving me from diving further into that strange rabbit hole.

  I smiled, swallowing down the last of the bread in my mouth, watching as she cutely stumbled into the living room, rubbing her eyes.

  “Good morning,” I greeted her, “I got us some food. There’s a surprise in there for you as well.”

  She hesitantly approached the bag that sat on the table, and peeked inside skittishly.

  Her eyes widened dramatically, and her mouth hung open, drool pooling on her lower lip.

  It was a nice sight.

  The madness hiding just beneath my skin dulled a little bit upon seeing it.

  See? Look at that face, it was worth it.

  I tore my gaze away from her. No matter how much I wanted to engrave the sight of her bright face into my memory to cherish, if I focused too much on what was inside the bag, the voice would start to beckon me again.

  I plopped another piece of bread into my mouth.

  “Um, Sister,” my sister called out, standing right in front of me.

  I bristled, feeling something dangerous tingling in my nose.

  I looked up.

  Take it.

  There was a piece of pork in her hands, held out right in front of my face.

  She’s offering. What’s wrong with that?

  I gulped, feeling my eyes already glazing over.

  “You should have some too,” she beamed at me.

  See? Even she thinks so.

  My mind dulled.

  Look at the juice, dripping on her fingers. The nectar of the gods.

  That succulent flesh. Oh, isn’t it perfect?

  “You were the one who got it for us.”

  Her words hypnotised me.

  It’s a reward for all your hard work and suffering.

  Come on. Relax, just a little bit.

  It’ll taste just. Like. Home.

  Like Mother’s cooking.

  “Come on!” She stood up a bit straighter, her voice peppy and bubbly, “I’m hungry, let’s eat it together!”

  Hungry.

  That stupid, annoying word that I was really fucking stubborn about broke me out of my trance.

  “N-no!” I pushed her away in a hurry, almost slapping her hand away.

  “I-it’s fine…” I looked away shakily.

  That doesn’t even make sense.

  I breathed deeply to relax myself.

  Why would she know the difference between those two words?

  ‘Hunger’ and ‘starvation’.

  They only mean something different to you.

  They mean the same thing to her.

  Would you act differently if she told you she was starving?

  Shut up.

  You’re being stupid and arbitrary.

  I knew I was.

  But that stupidity and arbitrariness was the only reason she was in front of me in the first place.

  If I was just a tiny bit more reasonable or logical, I wouldn't have taken her away from the men at the orphanage.

  I ground my teeth and tensed my muscles.

  I put my best, strongest smile and looked back towards my sister, who had an almost hurt look on her face.

  “I already ate some of it on my way back.”

  That wasn’t technically a lie.

  “I’ve had enough already.”

  That was a lie.

  “That’s all for you. You need to eat as much as possible to grow up strong. I’ll finish off the rest of it when it’s about to go bad.”

  I didn’t wait for a response, instead grabbing her by the shoulders, turning her around and pushing her back towards the table.

  I don’t think she believed me, given that she kept catching me staring at the meat on the table with empty eyes throughout the morning.