One face flashed before me. I didn't know his name, but I would never forget his face. That face was associated with memories of the worst things from my past.
It had only been once—one time when I had viciously murdered someone. That was thecrime,I was told, that I had been locked up for—but I knew that it wasn't true. I had already been locked up multiple times before that incident.Did they really think I was that much of a fool?I shook that memory away. Things of the soul were flooding me; then, memories and feelings that I had never felt before bled into my mind like an open wound in need of pressure, only I had nothing to offer in order to stop the flow of blood. I would bleed out soon. I was sure that I would die.
In the dungeon of my past, cleanings always followed the beatings. Hava, the castle servant as I had known her, came down and cleaned my wounds, bandaging them as best she could. I remembered her blue eyes and her steady voice that sang of hopeful things, days of light with Ancients walking among us. Hava brought me back from despair often—as hadmy dreams of a green-blue eyed girl with blond hair that seemed to be made of light; her images brought me hope on the darkest nights within my prison, but I never dwelt on the dreams of that beautiful girl for long. I was sure that I would die there in those dungeons and never see such a maiden draped in the light of the sun. There was no sun where I had dwelt. Hava would always leave halfway through her task of tending my wounds. She often needed to rinse out her bucket, filthy with my blood, and get a new cloth. I had no idea why, but for those five minutes, she always left the door open. I had always been too weak or too out of it to care or to even really notice, but after the final couple of beatings, she had kept me conscious and pointed to the door as if she wished for me to escape.
At first, I wasn't sure what she was doing. Was it some trap my father and Tarick had put her up to? A test to see if I would run, perhaps? And if I did, and they caught me, would that be it? Would they finally kill me? I wondered for a few moments if life was worth living if every single day was pure misery? Surely, that is not what the creator had intended for me.
Hava left, as usual, and I, not being as out of it as I had been in the past, sat up, wincing at the pain but unable to stop myself from taking the chance. I hovered by the door for a few moments. It seemed to me to be hours as I thought about my choices, but it had been a mere twenty seconds. I stood there, thinking and counting. Most people would have hightailed it and ran at the first chance they got, but most people did not know the two men who had imprisoned me. There was only ever one secret I had kept all the years of my life. Even if I had been born soulless, I could still sense the melodies of others. It had not been lost to me, how daily, the blackness of Tarick’s soul ate at him. It was only a matter of time before he killed himself because of it. I wondered–if I leave, will I bekilled anyway for my soulless state by the other Terrans in the kingdoms? Surely there were just as many people who hated soulless and would kill them without the castle as there were within it. I paused, but then realized, I would rather take the chance than stay there for all my days.
I rushed through the door before my courage faltered. At the top of the stairs stood the guard who often brought my meals. He wasn't a kind man, his soul holding both blackness and light in an obvious unequal balance, like most of the guards Tarick kept.
“Hey, you, get back in there before I tell the king that you are trying to escape.”
That, I knew, was his one offer of fained mercy. I knew he would tell Tarick and my father. I realized it didn't matter. I was determined. Hava was nowhere to be seen, and I charged up the steps with more strength than I realized I had. I channeled all the pent-up pain and frustrations, all the horror from my life, and I looked at the guard. I wouldn’t kill him in my escape. I would bind him and flee instead. He reminded me of the guard from my youth, the one who had forgotten to lock my cell, and when I fought with him, he broke my nose, and I had taken his life for it. I would never forget the way his melody screamed, and how his body relaxed in my chokehold. It had been an ill attempt at escape, however. My father, only minutes later, sent me back into my cell, locking the door behind me. I clutched my nose in my hands that day, wincing at the pain as Tarick was sent to beat me with his whip. That was the only time I ever felt numb. I had taken a human life. No matter what they did to me, no matter what I tried to tell myself, I had murdered someone, and I was sure there was no way to come back from such a thing. I never fixed my nose. I had no mirror in my cell, but I could feel the bump, and I touched my nose often in remembrance of what I had done, of what happenswhen one becomes the enemy, becomes the thing they despise most. Maybe, I was just as bad as my father and Tarick; still, I vowed to find my soul—and regardless of my worthiness, I knew that I would find it, and I would discover if there was any chance for me, any chance to find that green-blue eyed girl bathed in sunlight, any chance not to be sent to the corrupt at my final end.
I opened my eyes, realizing that the day had dragged on, along with my thoughts. An orange sky peeked out from behind the blushing clouds, and I leaned my head against the tree. Shad's melody was still in my hand. No—mymelody was still in my hand.
I no longer wanted the memory ofhim, of the one man who I had killed in cold blood. It used to anchor me—show me what I had the power to do and remind me that the next time, I would choose differently because I didn't want to be like those men who once held me prisoner. I had chosen differently the second time—the night of my actual escape. I’d tied the guard up, and although his death would have probably been a blessing to many, I did not take that into my own hands, not again.
I leaned my nose against the tree trunk, feeling the bent bone, realizing that I would need to re-break my nose in order to get it to set straight. I no longer wanted the reminder of that death, no longer wanted to be haunted by the darkness when I looked into the mirror. So, I slammed my nose into the tree at just the right angle. With a crack and some blood, it rebroke. I didn't have a handkerchief or any towels or napkins at my disposal. I stood straight, not caring about the blood as it dripped from my face and onto my clothes.
It would heal quickly after I washed.
I’d noticed during my time on Earth that the Terran people healed rather quickly. I wasn't sure what it was about Terrans that made us superior in healing, but I knew it would only be a couple of days before my nose would heal. The pain would be annoying until then. I walked back to the house as the blood continued to drip down my face and neck and onto my suit coat. The pain, as did all physical pain, made me calm. It was something I was familiar with—pain, so the throbbing only reminded me that I was still alive and still able to achieve my goal. As I reached the house, I saw Aiden through the window, close to a soulless girl. There were two other soulless people in the house, around the kitchen. I moved around back, not to be seen. The back door of the house had a bathroom nearby, and I walked into it. I looked at the disaster that was my face, slowly clearing it of crimson blood. I moved my nose into the desired position, then placed bandaging tape across so that it would stay in place, so that it would heal properly. I sat on the closed toilet seat after I finished washing my hands. I just sat there, listening to the melody so strong in my palm as I held the crystal in my shaking hands. I pulled the necklace over my head and waited for my melody to finally come back to me, for my soul to be restored to its rightful owner.
Chapter four
“You will!” The voice was familiar, and the pain was, too. The strikes, repeatedly, such a recognizable pain—a familiar feeling.
“I am sorry.” The apology shook the room, and it shook my father, who had to be the one landing the blows.
He paused.
All I could see was the stone wall, streaked with red splattered blood, which had been such a common sight that I barely registered it.
Why do I have to dwell on these moments?I thought, interrupting the memory.Why am I plagued by them? Will I ever be free?
Before I could respond to myself, I was lost once again in the past.
There was a melody there, a song; one that had never accompanied my beatings. My father’s soul was dark, barely even there, so I knew it could not be his. I had counted the days until he would become soulless and die. No soul which was pure could inflict such pain upon a person.
“You apologize?” my father spoke, shifting the shoulder of his victim around so that he was facing him. “Shadrict, you cannot say you are sorry; you are the prince of this kingdom and the future king! You never shall be wrong. Do you understand me?”
“But you said—”
He punched Shad in the face, the blow too hard upon what seemed to be a frail, boyish body of maybe twelve. Shad slumped to the floor.
“I know what I said!”
I could sense it then, in the melody, in the confusion of my brother. Not understanding the logic of his father, not trusting the only man he knew who was supposed to teach him to be a king. He was conflicted—confused—hurt.
“You will stay down here this evening. Maybe then you will learn what it is like to be nothing—and maybe next time you will learn what it means to be a leader.” He walked to the door.
Shadrict clutched his face in his hands, blood fell from his split lip, slipping between his fingers. The hurt in his soul, the disbelief on his face—his melody knew that pain; it wasn't new.
There yet again I saw that my brother had not lived the pampered life as I had always imagined. That moment faded, and a new one took its place.
Shadrict was laying upon a quilted bed, someone tending to his wounds. He had someone, too, like I had Hava. The painthat came with the cleansing, so that the wounds would not get infected, I knew all too well.
