Chapter One - Death's Embrace
'Thus let me live, unheard, unknown/Thus unlamented let me die/Steal from the world, and not a stone/Tell where I lie.' - Extract from 'Ode to Solitude' by Alexander Pope
Ignorance… is a splendid thing, a blissful thing. To be ignorant of what's out there, to be ignorant of what's in me, is all I've ever wanted… all I've ever needed. To be ignorant of the evil of my deeds and to be ignorant of the circumstances would be more than I could ask for. But consequences led me to where I am now, situated in a torturous, hopeless place, where any day I wake up is a disappointment, an undeserved mercy.
I'm not bound for this world any more. And in my heart, I hope a far-stretched hope that somewhere out there, there is a place for me, a place in heaven… For eliminating an item of no sentimental value to this world, an item of negative worth, wouldn't that count as one good act of self-redemption?
And so, with an indestructible last hope, I plunge myself into this ocean of demise, and allow Death to embrace me in its last and final hold…
"Jensen, go and play outside! You're making a bleeding mess out of my kitchen!" Jensen's mother shouted as Jensen jumped off the dining table and tumbled down to the floor. He looked at her, her fierce stare burning a hole through his head, and then looked at the wooden spoon held in her hand and decided that frolicking in the sunlight wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Jensen looked up the hill he had just rolled down. He sighed. His friends would have loved this… assuming he had friends. I'm an eight year old town-loner with nothing to do and no one to say this to. How depressing… He thought to himself. Maybe a little skinny-dipping in the river would help ease the pain of loneliness. He smiled and stripped down to his birthday suit. Oblivious to the stares of the shocked bystanders, he ran to the other side of the field before plunging into the blood red river.
He stopped dead in his tracks. The blood red river… That wasn't normal... He turned his head back and forth and looked around in search of the source of the gory colour. And there, a body spread-eagled on a low-lying boulder only a few feet from Jensen. From what Jensen could see, it could have been anything from a cow to an actual human being, but nevertheless, it was drenched in a red liquid that looked oddly similar to blood.
He quickly got out of the water and reluctantly drew on his clothes. It would only be right to confront a corpse with proper attire. The boulders were hard to climb; slippery and promising of a certain death if one were to fall off them, but Jensen was used to them. Years of curiosity and exploring made him nimble and lightfooted. Finally, he reached the body. It was a young man, probably twenty years of age, give or take a few years, topped off with platinum blonde hair.
Jensen smiled a sinister smile. He, Jensen Andrew McElfears was swimming in a river with a corpse. Cool, He thought to himself. Maybe it can be my friend. Every guy deserves a buddy, right? I mean even Dr Frankenstein had Frankenstein. His smile faded. It would be wrong to claim Mr. John Doe. What if he had a family sitting next to his picture-frame every night, worried to tears? What if he had friends who were grieving his disappearance?
He sighed and stood up. It was a hard life, the good life.
"Mom! Guess what?" Jensen asked as he rushed into his house. His mother turned to face him.
"Jensen! Look what you've done! You've made a sodding mess! I'm to clean the rug again!" She shouted in dismay, staring at the patches of muddy footprints.
"Beep! Wrong answer! A dead man by the river! All bleeding and what have you. On top of that large boulder, you know, the one I like to climb? He's face-down, getting a mouthful of rock! Judging by the fact that his bones are all wonky and twisted, I say he broke all of them!" He said dramatically, using hand gestures and twisted facial expressions. His mother blinked. "I don't really know how he got there, but I assume he either fell or he jumped... Why would anyone jump, Mum?
"It's not your time to know these things yet! Anyway, are you sure, Jensen? Sometimes, you know how you see things that aren't really there?" She muttered in concern.
"Well, as I've said before, Mother. Everyone else just can't see what's really there. But, I swear this time it's real. If he wasn't dead when he washed ashore, the bleeding will do him in!" He said frowning. His mother thought about it before sighing and trusting her son. What harm could it do? Another half-hour of laundry and a torturous back-ache, that's what.
She let him guide her by the hand to the river, and there she saw him, evidence that Jensen had really seen what he'd seen. She gasped and swore out loud, not bothering to cover her child's delicate ears, not that they needed covering. Euphemistically speaking, Jensen had a very extensive vocabulary.
She hurried to the bleeding corpse and checked his pulse. Weak, but still there. Sighing in relief, Ms. McElfears sent Jensen to call for help, promising him a cookie for a well-done job and a sore bottom for a poorly done one.
"Hang on, there." She whispered into the young male's ear.
Five year old Draco fell down the grassy hill, grazed but perfectly happy. He let out a shrill laugh, something he hadn't been able to do for months on end. His father objected to him giving into his emotions so easily and set him lessons on cold-heartedness and hardcore punishments for inappropriate behaviour.
"Draco," Narcissa murmured. "My little baby. Are you happy?"
"I wish everyday was like this!" He shouted aloud, giggling. His mother nodded and hugged him tightly before tickling his stomach. He laughed again, unable to stop, and ran away as she chased him.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING OUT HERE?" It seemed as though the whole world suddenly stopped. A stern voice filled every corner of his young and innocent mind, killing the joy and bliss that had filled him inside. He turned to face his father's face-of-stone carved horrifically into a menacing grimace.
"Lucius, we were just having a break. He grinds himself so hard into the work…" Narcissa tried to stand in between him and Draco, trying to reason it out, only to be pushed aside. She watched as the tall, blonde man rushed towards the little boy, her son, before slapping him hard across the face.
She almost let out a cry of pain as she eyed Draco, who bravely bit back his screams as the pain seared his cheek. "I'm sorry, father." He muttered. "It won't happen again."
"You're bloody hell right, it won't."