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ChapterTen
It’s like watching a timeline of the most significant memories he had, those that shaped him into who he is today. A glimpse into the depths of who Kalen truly is and the things that haunted him, made him happy, everything that made Kalen, Kalen.
His earliest memory is horrible, from what I can tell. At first, I feel like an outsider watching until the vision warps, and I am suddenly Kalen, seeing the world through his eyes. I feel what he must have been feeling, enduring what he endures. I find myself running into a room with gray paint and peeling wallpaper, exposing mold-covered walls. Beds line the room in rows, large bay windows overlooking a city I don’t recognize, and the room is ice cold, making me shiver.
He crawls underneath his bed by the window only to be ripped out by his ankles, his nails clawing at the wooden floorboards, making his fingertips bloody as they tore away his fingernails. His screams, my screams, are horrendous and hurt my soul. The fear he felt makes my heart race, and at first, I have no idea what he was running from until he is rolled over.
Everything plays out like a movie chronicling Kalen’s life before me. He’s terrified of the other children. Kalen tries to escape, crawling on his hands and knees, only to be blocked by a set of legs and backed into a corner. The kids huddle around him in the corner of the room. He tries to cover his ears with his hands over his head as they scream and taunt him, throwing things, kicking, and hurting him. Most of his childhood was spent being bullied relentlessly for being the weakest among the fae. But Kalen wasn’t just the weakest; he was also the smallest among his peers.
The bullying was horrendous, as were the things they did to him. They set him on fire, urinated on him, beat him bloody, and the teachers or those responsible for looking after him, all turned a blind eye to it or outright condemned him by telling him he deserved it. Kalen’s childhood was tragic until one day, that all changed. Changed everything for him. Kalen looked around worriedly as he sat in the playground by himself. Hearing the bang of doors, he looks up to see a new kid walk out the doors.
He thought it was another person to add to the list of bullies he already had. The boy reminded me of someone, and it didn’t take long before I recognized who he was. It was Lycus. He was younger in this memory. Lycus was just a boy, like Kalen. Only he was frighteningly bigger, and Kalen watched, horrified as he argued with one of the teachers before stomping off to sit on one of the bench seats. Lycus watched the other children play, his eyes falling on Kalen, who was watching him. Kalen dropped his gaze, cursing himself for making eye contact with the scary-looking boy.
When the bell rang to signal class, and he had to return to the orphanage, he ran for the doors, hoping to go unnoticed. However, Kalen knew his bullies wouldn’t give him a day off when the one he hated most stepped into his path. The boy was a teenager and almost looked too old to be still in the orphanage that Kalen called home. Kalen had to have been at least half the other boy’s age.
As the bully stepped out the door into the concrete playground, he took a step back. Kalen’s eyes scanned his surroundings, looking for an escape. He noticed Lycus watching curiously from where he still sat, ignoring the sound of the school bell. Kalen ran for the door across the quadrangle, only for the teenage boy to tackle him.
Kids rushed out the doors, circling and taunting him while the other kid gripped the front of his shirt and repeatedly punched him, making his nose bleed and his eyes blur as they swelled. Pain rippled through me as I experienced what he did, the helplessness and the acceptance. Kalen didn’t fight back. He knew it was useless and only brought on more pain.
So instead, he just took it. He thought the boy would surely kill him that day. Indeed, the bully promised Kalen he would before he aged out of the system. Kalen accepted it. In some ways, he hoped this was it, the day his torment ended. Just as his bully gripped his head in both hands, Kalen closed his eyes, knowing his head was about to be slammed into the pavement. Yet the deadly blow never came.
Instead, the weight holding him down vanished, and a collective gasp rang out from the surrounding crowd of children. Kalen’s eyes flew open to find his tormentor beside him on the ground, and the new kid that had arrived was punching into him. His bully’s head bounced off the ground as Lycus pounded his face with his fists. Blood spurted out of the bully’s nose and mouth, covering the new kid.
Kalen was shocked but also petrified that Lycus would turn his attention to him when he was done. Lycus’ eyes were a demonic black, and he foamed at the mouth in rage. Kalen just lay there and stared, too scared to move. Lycus growled loudly when Kalen’s bully fell unconscious.
The other kids scattered and ran away in fear when Lycus stood upright. Breathing heavily before his gaze turned to Kalen, who cowered away from him as Lycus stepped over the kid. Yet instead of offering Kalen a fist, he offered him his hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Are you okay?” Lycus asked him, and Kalen just stared at him. No one ever asked if he was okay, and he suddenly found himself mute for another reason.
“You got a name?” Lycus asked him. Kalen nodded, and Lycus raised an eyebrow at him.
“Well, are you going to tell me? Or can’t you speak?” Lycus asked him.
“Kalen,” he stuttered out.
“I’m Lycus,” Lycus said, and Kalen looked down at his bloody bully lying unconscious on the ground.
“Come on, let’s find a first-aid kit,” Lycus said, grabbing Kalen’s arm, but Kalen shook his head, pulling away. Lycus stopped and stared at him.
“I will get in trouble. The teachers don’t help,” he whispered to Lycus. That seemed to anger Lycus, who chucked his arm over Kalen’s shoulder.
“They’ll help, or I’ll make them.”
“They won’t listen. They don’t care,” Kalen murmured nervously.
“I’ll make them listen,” Lycus told him.
Kalen looked at Lycus, and he smiled, flashing his canines. “Because if they don’t, I’ll bite,” he said, and Kalen laughed, letting Lycus lead him back inside.
From that day forward, the two were joined at the hip, drawn to each other. Lycus always defended Kalen and taught him how to protect himself as best he could. However, when they were both fourteen, Kalen’s mental health declined, and his depression worsened until Lycus got sick of watching him hate himself.
A teacher had hit Kalen across the knuckles with a cane when he was trying to explain the work to Lycus beside him. Kalen’s knuckles split open, and Lycus lost it, standing up and ripping the cane from his teacher’s fingers. The teacher was cruel, and he hated Lycus and Kalen. This particular teacher would use any excuse to punish them. However, that day Lycus was pushed too far. He pulled the cane from his hand before wailing on him with it. Lycus was then shot with a dart gun after one of the students raced into the halls to alert security. Kalen watched on helplessly as Lycus was then hauled away to the infirmary, and Kalen wasn’t allowed in with him, so he waited by the door for him to wake up.
“Kalen! Now!” his teacher called to him. Kalen was waiting in the corridor for Lycus when he heard his name called. Kalen pushed off the wall he was leaning on as the burly Vampiric-Fae stalked toward him. Kalen glanced at the door where Lycus was before turning his attention to the headteacher.
“Follow me,” the man said.
“But, Lycus—”
