Knives and Pens

Disclaimer: I do not own the Covenant or any familiar characters; I would be the luckest girl alive if I did, but alas I do not. I also do not own the title "Knives and Pens"; Black Veil Brides does. I do not own any song lyrics that may appear at the beginning of a chapter either.

One final fight, for this tonight.
With knives and pens we made our plight.
And I can't go on without your love, you lost, you never held on.
We tried out best... Turn out the light,
Turn out the light.
-Black Veil Brides, "Knives and Pens"

Prologue

The girl is being bound roughly by the wrists. She is a teenager-no older than seventeen but no younger than sixteen from the looks of it. Tears have stained her face, but now she is not crying and has a resigned look on her face.

I have never seen this girl in my life, but she is beautiful in a different kind of way-at least, I can tell she was beautiful-with pale skin and golden eyes and raven hair I would envy if it were properly brushed and not tangled and matted with mud and sweat and tears and did not have hunks torn out from being pulled and pushed around.

"Go on," the rugged "guard" says in a gruff voice. The girl spits at his feet and forces her chin up, refusing to budge. The guard, enraged, pulls hard on the rope that is binding her hands in front of her and she stumbles forward.

Tears start streaming down her face as she whispers, "I will not scream or cry out."

"We'll see," the man says, tugging at the rope again. This time she stumbles, and during her trip her feet get caught in the thin tattered white dress they are making her wear, and she falls to her knees, bruising them on the cobblestone. He yanks her up roughly by the hair. Her knees almost buckle under her.

He leads her out to the open cobblestone arena, where there is a crowd of people-even some children I note; the parents want their children to see the consequences for witchcraft so they won't get in to it themselves-waiting, watching. There is a tall wooden post in the middle of the area with more of the guards surrounding it, ready to tie her and burn her but also ready for her to put up a fight.

This reminds me of a scene out of that old Disney cartoon The Hunchback of Notre Dame, except there is no sanctuary here, no one to save the girl, and I know somehow that I am witnessing the Salem Witch Trials; I am about to watch a young girl get burned to the stake for witchery.

They finally reach the post, and the other guards help hoist her up while the man takes the rope he was leading her by and ties it all around her, wrapping her arms around the back of the stake and tying down her legs.

I do not want to see anymore. I want to wake up. They start the fire, and I will myself to wake up so I will not hear the screams and smell the flesh burning. But I don't. I don't wake up.

The fire is licking the girl's feet, and she is sobbing, but she is holding strong like she told the guard she would by not screaming. The orange and red flames snake up to her legs, and suddenly...

The scene changes.

This is no longer a third-party dream, me watching from the sky. Now I am the one bound at the wrists, being led by a male of eighteen by my guestimate, not much older than me. He looks at me and smiles. It is not a smile that says I-am-about-to-kill-you, but there is something unsettling about it and I shudder.

I look over and see another girl with blonde hair who is also tied up, but she looks really scared. "Chase," she spits. "Don't do this." So she must know this guy, even though I have never seen him before in my life.

He simply smiles at her too. I look away from him. Something about him unnerves me, scares me. I mean, he's holding his own little Salem Witch Trials from the looks of it. But I am not a witch! And I'm pretty sure-I don't know how I know, but somehow I do-that the blonde girl is not a witch either.

I take in the setting around me. Mostly I see the charred remains of a building-which means the grass we're walking on is also burnt-and lots of trees. This isn't where the girl was getting burned to the stake at in the other part of my dream.

Suddenly the guy stops, so we stop too. "Don't worry," he says, "you won't feel a thing."