We Stitch These Wounds
This story is for the outcasts in the world. A tale that takes us into an alternative version of the world we live in today, but the pain and hurt is just as real. It holds the power of love, life, and never giving in. We are the ones who will be heard.
The ticking of the clock, a time bomb threatening to explode inside. Every moment a body is acutely aware of his time running out before he had to move swiftly out of the door before his time ended. Icy eyes glanced anxiously at those who taunted him, it was only a matter of a few ticks and a deafening siren would signal them that class was over for the day.
As expected the piercing bell echoed into his ears all too early. Quick hands took his books and his bag, pushing away fiery strands that fell into a pale face as he hoped to avoid death row.
He hoped to blend in with the crowd of students, but he always seemed to be found easily in the mass of people, as if he had something that alerted predators straight toward him that singled him out from the others. The universe seemed to have a different plan for him and he found himself pulled into an unused classroom, the click of a lock signaling his lethal injection.
The three boys that usually enjoyed tormenting him stood with authority that gave out the air of overestimated self-worth.
"Now you're on your own Alec. No teachers around to hide behind," said one of them, voice laced with his violent lack of virtue.
Alec had ended up walking home in soul surrender. He had not wanted to be late getting home; he knew that he would be met with another lecture of disobedience and disapproval. It always did. He tried, he really did, to be a better son, he practically begged for the man's approval, but it didn't seem to matter how much or how long he tried. Whether it was two months or a lifetime, it was all the same, he was a disappointment to everyone around him, at school he was different, and at home he was never enough, and he didn't know why.
He found himself staring at the ceiling; it was white like the exterior of a church. He was tired and too awake and focused on the ones who had hurt him so much, for no reason other than the fact that he was breathing. Alec was fully aware of the love that seemed to have died, or maybe it never lived to begin with. He didn't know if it was the pain in his heart or loss of mind but he felt like he lived without a direction and he didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse.
Sunday was the day everyone had to go to the congregation at the church, it was required. Alec felt even more out of place, sitting on the hard wooden bench, surrounded by the whole Community. He felt like anyone watching him was scrutinizing him.
The preacher voiced the evils of The City outside of The Community. How heathen rebels made them into sinful war zones while the holy tried to bring peace and show them the light. He spoke about how their blood ran along the sand, purifying the dead in the holy sea, blessed by men of god.
"Remember my words and the knowledge that we are blessed, that in this world our community is protected by our Lord and Savior. Remember our struggle to bring peace and perfection throughout God's world. We are the only glory in the heathen's world of darkness and destruction," his words struck a chord into Alec's heart, he felt himself falling, losing faith in the light that began to blur.
He watched, in a daze, everyone leave, his parents not giving him a second glance. It wasn't until the church was emptied that he saw just how alone he was in this world he had lived in for sixteen years, his whole life.
A piano began to play, deep and full of life. Alec's head jerked to the sound, watching as a man, not much older than him, sat on the bench, fingers playing the notes expertly. He was looking at Alec, but not once did his music falter.
"I would sing this song at funerals, it celebrate and expresses our deaths the way they were supposed to."
Alec took a closer look at him, standing from the pew and walking onto the long stretch of hallway that led to the back of the building. The man had dark hair, like the darkness only seen in your most beautiful of nightmares. His eyes though were a bright, green blue that burned bright orange around his pupil, standing starkly against his tanned and dirty skin.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled, "I'm Magnus, but I would like to know who you are Alexander."
Alec was taken aback by the fact that this stranger knew his name, "You already seem to know who I am," he said cautiously.
"I suppose I know a few things about you. How you've lost your faith in the blurring light."
"But I haven't-"he tried to protest, but he was cut off lightly.
"But haven't you," he asked, his fingers manipulating the music into a dark cabaret piece, "These people have such a deadly grip on lies; it spills like thunder to what we hold in our hearts."
His eyes watched Alec, but it didn't burn a while into his soul like so many others did. It was like he was merely observing his reaction out of sheer curiosity and not to judge him. Alec stepped up to the piano, across from Magnus, still weary toward him.
"You're a rebel. Why are you here, it's dangerous for you, isn't it?"
"I knew you weren't like them," he, happy to hear those words from Alec's mouth, "But it's dangerous for anyone like us to be here, and I came to help you."
"What," he stuttered out, just barley, 'Me, I don't-I'm-"
"You're someone that can make a difference."
Alec shook his head, "I don't think I can, besides they say-"
"They told you to be one with the crowd, about their love and bleeding crowns," he said in a biting laugh, "but we're the people forced underground, we are done with allegory, there's no time for it. We want to silence the crooked holy and unchain the tied and bound. I'm here to unchain you and help give you a voice. We are all young and strong, we all have the strength in ourselves to become more than they can be."
Magnus stopped playing and looked deep into Alec's eyes, "There's always a reason, a victim who yearns for what's missing, The Power hidden in the night, far from the comfort of light. It's a shining beacon in the sky. There are angels and demons, we all play a part on lonesome nights. They leave the pain and lust behind, but we're the soldiers in season who will bring about change before we die," he smiled softly, a contrast to his rough features, "I bet they haven't told you anything like that before."
Alec shook his head but asked, "Who are you then, the angels or the demons?"
"Tell me, what do you see in the people who call themselves angels?"
Alec swallowed, throat constricting, "I see lies, a martyr whose morals bend and twist."
He nodded, "And the demons?"
"Misunderstood, a pain that shines a different light to those who understand," he had just answered his own question.
"You don't belong here Alec, and you're not alone, you can brave this storm. Their exorcise of life has to end with us. We were burned but we learned that you cannot win when saints are holy. Something's never change so we have to be the ones to learn from it."
"I don't stand a chance to-"
"You will I-" voices from another room came into earshot, "Think about who you are, who you want to be, not what anyone, not even me, wants you to be. I'll see you again soon," and he left, slinking into the hollow shadows out of the church, leaving Aiden to ponder what he had just been told."
He found himself trying to blend into the white cement, wishing it would trap him in their solid walls. Painful words slapped his face from the three who seemed to get pleasure out of pushing him further from fitting in. it was like they were taunting him, to see how far they could go before he broke. It hadn't gotten physical this time, not yet, it seemed like they were drawing it out for some reason or another.
Magnus' words found their way into his head, ringing out like a church choir of the broken and damned. He had been thinking about what he had said for a few days and he was so afraid of not being good enough that he didn't know who he was. But right then, everything he had heard that day seemed to just wash over him, opening his eyes to something he had never known in his young life.
The next thing he knew he found himself waking, his back toward his tormenters, eyes set straight ahead in a new defiance.
One of them grabbed his shoulder, forcing Alec to face him, hand releasing the boy as he looked into strong summer eyes.
They fear what lies beneath your eyes.
He backed off of Alec, much to Alec's own surprise; he had made his choice.
A gentle rapping on his window woke Alec with a start, his body protesting at waking up as such an hour, demanded he close his heavy lids and drift back onto sleep. Rubbing his eyes he shuffled to the window, not surprised when he was Magnus grinning sharply in the night.
He lifted the window up, "What are you doing here?"
"I promised you that I would see you again."
"Okay, what are you doing here, at this time of night?"
He feigned hurt, "Can I come inside?"
Alec sighed, moving aside so Magnus could jump in, his boots thudding on the wood, dropping his bag on Alec's bed."
"I'll be completely honest with you. Regrets still haunt my hollow head, I won't deny that, but this love will set you free from the thoughts of yesterday, I promise you that. And I can't save our hearts tonight, but we can stand and fight with one final fight, with this tonight, we can see the end's in sight."
Alec caught his eyes, almost like proving that this is what he wants, that he knows who he is and what he hopes he can be, "I don't want to dwell on heaven's calling anymore," his eyes darkened, "I will never give in again, not now."
"Those blood red skies won't be easy."
He nodded, "I know."
"Good," Magnus nodded; grabbing the bad he had brought with him and tossed it into Alec's hands.
"What's this," he asked, holding it in his hands, it was well worn, but sturdy.
"You'll stick out in The City with what you have, with a war going on and rebels killed on sight, it's not a good thing. Open it," he fell back onto the bed, arms crossed under his head, eyes plastered on the ceiling.
Alec opened it, taking the articles of clothing out, watching Magnus curiously."
"We leave tonight, so get dressed quickly."
He nodded, discarding his baggy sweats and loose night shirt for the slim black jeans and fitted t-shirt, easier for concealment and movement in The City, Magnus explained. Alec laced up charcoal combat boots and threw on a long trench coat, with a high collar, and turned up the hood as Magnus stood up and grabbed the bag from the ground, taking out a pair of fingerless gloves, much like his except these were mesh, and threw both at Alec.
"A gift from me, the bag will come in handy."
Alec slung it over his shoulder and followed Magnus out of his window, reminding him of the times he had snuck out of the house, but this time he wouldn't be coming back. Now he wouldn't be allowed back, and that knowledge gave him wings.
With the cover of night on their side they slipped through easily and Alec knew that he could stitch up his wounds and make this new life something more than what they could have made it.
"When we lose the right to be different, we lose the privilege to be free."
Charles Evans Hughes, Address at Faneuil Hall, Boston, Massachusetts, June 17, 1925
Author's Note: So…what do you think? I have a lot more time to write this week, so this three part series will be out faster than my usual up-dating. I'm not sure if I should post them all one after the other, or wait a week in between each story. I guess it depends if anyone is interested in reading them.
Thank you for reading!
Lots Of Love