This took me far longer than it should have. This took about...1 year? I think this took way longer than it should have.
Monday1113 does not own Paper Planes/Prisoner, and she does not own Ninjago.
PaperPlanesPrisoner
As the cold, dry air cut through the thin material of my clothes, I drew my arms in closer, trying to stay warm. 'You're the one who insisted on going for a walk without grabbing your jacket, stupid.' My mind chided, like I was still a small child. 'Maybe if you had listened to your father and waited until the weather was warmer, this wouldn't be a problem.' I rolled my eyes. If I did wait until the weather was warmer, dad would insist on me being led around by one of the guards, and I wouldn't be allowed outside of view of our home. The world out here...it was real.
Walking around outside the fence of one of the prisons, I stared in. The inmates were shuffling around the small, fenced in yard. I didn't know why they even called it a yard. It was more like a cement box, with a high fence keeping them in. A few of them were sweeping invisible dirt and leaves towards the fence line.
Almost immediately, I saw one of the sweeping prisoners staring at me. He slowly made his way towards me, face in a mask of disbelief.
Compared to every prisoner I had seen since my recovery, he seemed to be the worst off. His clothes were torn, and his left eye was black and blue with bruises, half swollen shut. He stood proudly though, like even after whatever had happened to him, he wasn't changing. He wasn't defeated yet.
Just watching him slowly walk towards me, I knew the guards could tell he wasn't going to do anything. There was a certain fear that prisoners had towards people like me. People who were close to the Overlord. If anyone close to the Overlord was hurt, they'd be killed.
One of the first executions I had witnessed was of a person who had run up towards me, screaming, their eyes wild with some sort of hatred and anger.
The Stone Army had killed them quickly. I remember standing beside my father when they were killed.
At night, I would lay on my bed, clutching at my blanket. Thoughts about if they had a family, or if they died painlessly ran wild through my mind. All of the uncertainty that the unknown oblivion contained made it worse. I never mentioned it to my father how much it had effected my mind.
The barbed wire helped too. Corpses of birds and other various animals that had been caught on it were left as a reminder of its power. He pushed his pile of leaves closer to the fence, and I now could see into his eyes. They were different from everyone else's eyes. I was so used to that deep purple tinge that seemed to cover everyone's eyes like a fog. His were different. They were free. Their warm amber-y brown color seemed to ignite something inside of me, and I felt warm. It was like a fire was under my skin, warming up every part of me.
No longer moving, I watched him get closer. Tilting his head, he stared at me, as if he was waiting for something. 'Why is he looking at me...like he knows me?'
A bell rang out, and he whipped his head around. The other prisoners were beginning to file back inside. With one last look at me, he sighed, and shook his head. With each step he took back towards the dark building, I could see something in him change. He changed. There was something in him that set him apart from the other prisoners, and their slow shuffle.
His walk had purpose like something had changed inside of him. 'But what?'
'Hope.' My mind supplied. I continued to watch him, not moving until he turned to the right, disappearing down a hallway inside. 'He has hope in him.'
My steps felt heavy, weighted, and mechanical, like the slow shuffle of the other prisoners, as I walked down the halls of my home. Opening the door to my father's study, I wasn't surprised to find that he wasn't in there. 'Good. Fewer questions about why I'm in here. Dad would freak if he knew I had left home.' My hand glided over the spines of the books on the shelves.
Where the dictionary should have been, there was a large gap. I scanned the room, and found it lying on his desk, wide open. A sticky note made a flag that peered over the edge of one page. Lifting it up, I read the word's definition.
Hope:
Noun
1. A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
2. A feeling of trust.
Verb
3. The want for something to happen or be the case.
Was that was I felt? A feeling of trust? Was it that he trusted me, or that I trusted him?
Shrugging, I placed the sticky note back down, stepping away from the desk. I walked back to my room, staring at the large mass of dark clouds swirling in the sky above.
He didn't recognize me.
'It was too good to hope that they'd let him out if he was the same as he was.' I thought, scrubbing the pot in front of me, like I was grinding a Serpentine's face into the pavement. 'They did something to him.' Water splashed up, scorching my skin. Wiping it away on my forearm, I continued rubbing at the burnt on food.
'I swear, I'll make them pay. Even if it kills me.' I thought, glaring at the small barred window above my head. They could lock me up, but they couldn't keep me from dreaming of destroying them, helping Lloyd finally complete his destiny.
There had been something off about him. Instead of the determined teenager I last saw, even as he fell to the rooftop, body smoking lightly as deep wisps of darkness curled off of his pale skin, this Lloyd was more childish, more innocent. They changed something about him. His eyes told me everything, since he didn't recognize me, I knew they had to have done something to his memories, something to keep him from rising again.
They didn't want a chance to lose their throne. Lloyd was that loose thread that could unravel the fabric of their tyranny. The only reason he was alive had to be from Garmadon pleading with the Overlord to spare his son, saying he'd find a way to keep Lloyd out of trouble.
Finishing the last pot in the stack, I set it down on the drying rack. Removing the heavy apron, I grabbed the paper pad off the counter, as well as a short pencil. No eraser.
No mistakes.
Back in the confines of the small cell, I wrote furiously, leaving my words as open-ended so he'd write back. Folding it into a small paper plane, I slid it into my sleeve. 'Now the hard part...waiting to see if he'll even be there tomorrow.'
Something inside of me told me to go back the next day. Even though I felt ill, I still went. 'I need to know why he's so hopeful.' Holding back a cough, I stepped past my father, and his study. With each second I held the cough in, my chest seemed to burn more. I took shallow breaths through my nose, but the fire in my lungs had yet to leave.
The stone guards by the door glared at me as I tried to slip past them to get outside. One of them pushed me back, the palm of his hand pressing firmly against my chest. Falling backwards onto the ground, the shock made me cough, doubling over from the intensity.
Almost immediately, I could hear my father running down the corridor. "Lloyd?" He shouted, getting closer with every step.
Forcing myself to stop coughing, I sat up, wiping the tears off my face, tears that had come up from the intensity of the coughing. "I'm okay dad. These guys just didn't know how much force they use when they pushed me back." I quickly clamped my mouth shut. Dad had explained to me that they would never hurt me, or even touch me, unless they knew I was somewhere I shouldn't be.
"Why did they have to shove you?" He asked, voice suddenly loosing it's caring tone. I stayed silent, looking down at the wooden floor. "Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, you tell me right now why they had to touch you." His words were harsh, and bit at me with a cool acidity.
I stared past his legs, and slowly pushed myself up off of the floor. My legs shook under me, and I steadied myself with the wall. Still remaining silent, I dusted myself off, another cough building up in my chest.
"I will give you to the count of three. If you won't tell me, maybe you'll tell the Overlord himself why his army had to use force on you."
A chill ran down my spine. The Overlord was one of the few people who made me uncomfortable. While the Stone Army was very apathetic towards everyone and everything most of the time, the Overlord always made me feel unwelcome, and I could tell he was very much against my father taking care of me, even though he would never say it.
Looking away towards a painting on the wall, my father's hand lightly touched my chin, turning my head so I would meet his disapproving, and upset gaze.
Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I felt something within me stir, like a feeling from long ago. Just like any other similar feelings, it fled too quickly.
Sighing, I closed my eyes. Coughing again, I met my father's gaze again. "They shoved me because I was trying to go outside."
"You know you're not supposed to leave unaccompanied. What if someone took you away again? Hurt you again? What then Lloyd, what then?" Mr father seemed angry with me now. Angry, and overprotective. "I can't afford to lose you."
"But dad, if you taught me to fight-"
Everything happened too fast for me to keep up. With a heavy impact, I felt my skull bash against the sturdy wall, eyesight fading out completely for a minute, dousing me in darkness. My father's arm pinned me, pressing down on my throat as my vision came back to me. I could see the fear in his eyes. The struggle to breathe intensified. I looked at my father, and silently begged him to let go. Fear ran through me worse than food I remembered eating in my captivity.
"Don't you ever ask me to teach you to fight again." He hissed, voice unnervingly serious.
His red eyes softened, and he let go. Falling onto my knees, I coughed again, letting air try to pass whatever was blocking my lungs. Listening to the sounds of his footsteps leaving, I closed my eyes, trying not to cry.
"Guards, take my son to his room."
Without offering any resistance, I allowed myself to be led back into my room. The dark purple and grey decor stared at me, emotionless and cold. Hints of green and gold were the only colors in the room that didn't depress me.
The door closed behind me, and I heard it lock. There were no footsteps leading away though. They had to be standing guard, just so my father could keep me inside. Clenching my fists, I felt my anger bubbling up inside of me. Light-headedness gripped me, and I slid down to the floor, trying to get the world to stop spinning.
It passed slowly. Lifting my head from between my knees, I could hear the prison bell in the distance. Sighing, I set my head back down. My chance to talk to him was gone for today.
He didn't come back today.
I waited close to the fence, sweeping the same pile of leaves back and forth for the entire hour, but Lloyd never showed up. Worry settled like a pile of stones in my stomach. Staring out past the fence, I waited for him to appear, even if he wasn't wearing green, his bright blonde hair stuck out among the grey landscape outside of the prison.
As the bell rang, I sighed, and made my way back inside. The tip of the paper plane jabbed against my side, rubbing at my skin.
'Tomorrow.' I told myself as I was led back to my cell by one of the guards. I briefly caught a glance at a very thick eyebrow as he left, the chains and shackles that tethered me to the wall firmly attached. 'I'll see him tomorrow.'
Climbing out the window, a warm, darkly colored jacket covering my light green shirt, I tied the rope to the railing of the balcony. Dropping it over the side, it swung violently, stopping about a foot above the ground. Slowly, I slid the window shut, leaving it open just enough so I could lift it up when I got back.
Taking a shaky breath, my mind screamed at me not to do this. To turn back, and do what I should be doing, like any good son would do.
So of course, I ignored it.
Placing both hands on the railing, I lifted one leg over, sticking it in the gap between two of the bars, before lifting the other over to join it. Grabbing the rope, I wrapped my ankles and feet around it, making sure my grip was firm before I removed my feet from the balcony.
My grip wasn't right. Instantly, I slid down about four feet, the rope rubbing roughly against the palms of my hands. Once I stopped sliding, the sting set in. Unfortunately, I didn't have any other way to get down, and resorted to sliding like that again.
Letting go of the rope, I landed safely on the ground, immediately blowing on my rope-burned hands. It was worth it, even if it hurt. I was now in the garden, and that led right outside to the real world. Running towards the gate, I slipped out, tearing my way down the path to the prison, my heart telling me that I needed to do this.
The tall barbed wire fence came into view, and I could see him. He was waiting by the fence, staring towards me. The closer I got, the better I could see his face. He seemed...glad to see me. Something sailed through the air towards me.
A little paper plane.
The breeze gently carried it towards me, and I stood still, reaching forward to pick it out of the air. It crinkled softly as my fingers closed around it. I could see spots where letters were written with too much force, the back of the paper raised slightly.
I looked at him, and he smiled, nodding. Brown hair flopped into his face, and I watched him brush it back. Slowly, I unfolded the plane. Tight, small letters formed the words on the paper.
Lloyd, The paper read, and I stepped back, surprised that the man knew my name. You don't seem to recognize me, but I know you, and you seem so lost right now. Your eyes...they aren't as focused. What happened? Why don't you recognize me?
I looked at him, and he nodded for me to continue reading it, like he knew I wasn't done reading it.
I can tell you all the stories I know. If you want me to. You just have to let me know, and I can give you a story every day as long as I have paper and pencil. You know me, but apparently you don't remember me, so I'll tell you about myself if you want me to. I knew you, Lloyd, before the Overlord took over.
On this paper, I've written the story of a boy, a young boy who had no one to take care of him, and how he made bad choices that shaped his life. I hope you enjoy it, Lloyd.
I looked up at him. "You wrote this for me?" I asked softly, knowing that if he was seen talking to me, he could be killed.
He nodded slowly. "Of course."
The bell rang, and he began to turn around. "Please write more." I asked, knowing these stories would be different from the books in the library. The words seemed to leap off the paper, instead of staying in place like they did in the books.
He smiled, nodding. "Sure thing, Lloyd."
I froze. His voice was familiar, like an old lullaby. It was calming, and warm, and different from anyone else's voice I had heard.
The bell began to ring, and I smiled. "I'll be back tomorrow!" I said quickly, turning to leave. "I promise!"
"See you then."
He came out to the fence every day, tossing a compactly folded paper plane to me.
Soon, I started sending my own to him. I told him about my life, and in return, he gave me colorful stories about places I had never seen, and things I never did.
It was almost like we were...friends.
"Your son has made contact with the ninja." The Overlord's messenger said, kneeling on the floor of my study. I shot him a glare, daring him to say more. "He wrote letters, and is telling your son about how to fight-" I cut him off with a strong kick. The messenger of stone fell back, landing harshly. His arm seemed to splinter, shards of dark rock scattering over the floor.
"You're dismissed." I said, leaving the room quickly. Passing two guards, I gestured for them to follow me.
Quickly running up the stairs, I found myself in front of Lloyd's door. Without knocking, I opened it, finding my son sitting on his bed, a slip of paper held between his hands. "Dad!" He shouted, moving to shove the scrap of paper into his pocket. Lloyd's eyes were wide in fear.
The guards moved closer to him, and he scooted backwards on the bed, trying to put distance between himself and the two Stone Warriors. One grabbed the paper from him, while the other one dragged him unceremoniously off the bed, the dark-colored blanket being taken with him. Lloyd kicked and fought wildly in the grip of the guard. The letter he had held was passed to me, and sure enough, it was Kai's handwriting. I crushed it in my hand. "Search the room. Leave nothing unturned. If there are any other letters..." I trailed off, catching a glimpse of Lloyd's tearful face.
Pushing the warrior aside, I wrenched my son off the floor, holding on to his upper arm tightly.
They found several other letters under his mattress. Handing them to me, I shoved Lloyd back towards him. "Bring him with me." Walking out of the room, I could hear Lloyd shouting at me, begging me to give the letters back.
We walked into the main gathering room, the fireplace roaring. "Dad, no!" Lloyd shouted, twisting in the grips of the guards. "Please don't!"
I watched in horror as my dad moved closer towards the fireplace, letters in his hands. "Dad, please!" I screamed, my throat uncomfortable from having to work so hard to sound so loud.
He threw the letters into the fire, and I saw them burning. Flames licked at the thin paper before devouring it like a piece of candy. The one-of-a-kind stories that the man had taken the time to write burned right in front of me, the paper curling at its edges, turning black, and then to ash, falling apart in the flames.
The little boy learning not to trust a snake.
Gone.
The story of how rumors were powerful enough to save the day.
Gone.
The story of acceptance, despite differences.
Gone.
The story of the volcano.
Gone.
All of them, gone. I would no longer be able to read those comforting words from the stories, and imagine what it would have been like if it was real.
But my father had ruined all of them. He had heartlessly taken the letters away, destroying them without giving me a chance to convince him to let me have them.
He turned, looking at me. I met his eyes, putting as much anger and hate, and venom into my glare. "I hate you!" I said, voice raw and weak. Out of anger and frustration, a tear rolled down my face.
"Lloyd," He started, and I turned my head away.
"Just let me go." I whispered, voice low. It was taking so much control to not lose it emotionally now. "There's nothing you could say."
The guards listened to me, their iron grips on my arms releasing quickly. I stood, dusting myself off, turning, and storming out of the room. As soon as the heavy door slammed shut, I felt my tears falling without end, and took off running, tearing down the empty, desolate hallways. I didn't care where I ended up, just as long as I was away from him.
A week had passed, and Kai had taken time to re-write the stories I had lost once I told him what had happened. Anger had flickered across his worn, and tired face when I told him, but he sighed, and said he would re-write them.
The next day, I had snuck an old writing pad from the library, and gave it to him so he would have fresh paper to write on. I gave him several pens too, because I could tell the tiny stub of a pencil he used wouldn't last for long. He shook his head and told me he couldn't take it, but I stayed out of his reach so he'd have to.
That wasn't the only reason I stayed back.
My father had taken me on a tour of the prisons, and had shown me everything. I kept my eyes wide open all the time now, because if I closed them, I would see the things I saw in there. The infirmary was the worst. Dead bodies piling up, the scent of rotting, decomposing flesh everywhere. The wretched screams and moans, and groans of sheer pain and agony as they slowly died off, begging for death, begging for help, crying for relief that they wouldn't get.
It was enough to make anyone scared.
I stayed back because I didn't want Kai to end up there.
I could feel my lungs burning more often, and I was coughing more. I knew I was sick. I had to be. It was the only explanation that fit. The coughing, the wheezing, the fever and chills I had been feeling, it was because I was sick. There was one thing different between Kai and I though. If he got sick, he would be left to die. My father wouldn't let me. He'd make the Overlord find a cure, he'd get me the best doctors to see me well again. I know he would.
I was all he had.
Wrapping my jacket around myself, I smuggled the thin sack under it, pressing it to my side. The small box of pencils and the pad of paper jabbed their corners against my ribs. The weather had gotten colder, and I pulled my scarf up further over my mouth, coughing into it.
Kai was waiting by the fence by the time I got there, worry written over his face at the sight of me. "Are you alright?!" I couldn't worry him, it would be rude if I did. He didn't need to worry about me, he needed to worry about getting sick himself. I don't want to hear he's in the infirmary being left to die.
I carefully slid the sack under the wire gap of the fence. He picked it up quickly, and smiled sadly. His face was a happy expression, but I could tell it was a thin, plastic mask. He was putting it on for my sake. I couldn't call him out on it though. He'd call me out on mine. I was sick, but here I was, trying to act like I was perfectly happy. No way was I going to let him get sick, not until I could get him out of here. Surely, there had to be a way for me to convince my dad to free him so I could have a companion. He often said I was too withdrawn, and that I needed to socialize more, perhaps he would let Kai out if he saw how social I was around him.
I coughed, and cut it off, looking at Kai. "I don't feel too well... I'll be back tomorrow though. It's probably some little bug... I don't want you to catch it..." I stepped back, before starting to dash back home, before I could climb back up the winding stairs to get to the floor my room was on, the world shifted violently, and suddenly, I was looking up, the ceiling spun rapidly.
"Lloyd...Lloyd, wake up."
A hand shook my shoulder, and my eyes were closed. It was freezing cold, and my bed was harder than I remembered...
My father leaned over me, his face calm. "Take him to his room. Lay him down, and keep a guard on him at all times." Rough hands reached under me, scooping me up into stony arms, and I felt nauseous as I was rushed up the stairs, and tossed carelessly onto my bed, like I was nothing more than a bag of feathers. My back hit the mattress, and an inhumanly loud, wet cough ripped free from me, leaving me winded, and gasping desperately like a fish without water.
It was then I lost my freedom of getting out of bed. A guard was by my door at all times, and if I tried to get up, they would walk over, forcing me back into the pillows, pulling my blankets back up over me.
Never once was a doctor sent for.
Never once did my father decided to grace me with a visit.
Never was Kai informed about why I didn't come back the next day.
I coughed loudly into the crook of my arm, watching as dark purple stained the green of my shirt. It was sickening, seeing it leach over the fabric, staining more of it than it should have. Walking over to the dresser, I pulled out the thick black scarf, wrapping it around my mouth, hoping that it would not only cover up the sounds of me hacking my lungs out-quite painfully- and hide the aubergine dribble that would cascade down my chin, and drip on whatever I was wearing. My father turned a blind eye to my growing cough, and how much skinnier I was, and how pale my skin had turned. He didn't look at me anymore.
Had I done anything to upset him? Did I do something to make him pretend I didn't exist? Thinking about the possibility of why he was ignoring me made my inescapable headache even worse.
Pulling on my jacket, I struggled to get out of the room, feeling sicker, my body shaking, and weak. The walk outside felt like walking through quicksand. I was stuck, my body sluggish. With each step, my knees whined in pain, wanting me to simply lay down and sleep. It scared me. I felt like I was dying. In the mornings when I stood, the whole world around me turned pure white, like I was stranded in a world of ice and snow.
My knees buckled, and I landed in the grass, laying there, gasping for breath. I couldn't let this be the end. Still struggling to breathe, I forced myself up, half-dragging my body towards the prison.
I needed to see Kai, just once more...
Lloyd looked ready to drop dead when he finally got to the fence. He was so pale, and skinny... Lloyd looked like an empty shell, his eyes dark and hollow, a smear of dirt stood out on his pale cheek, almost like a bruise. His whole body was shaking, like he was freezing from within.
I offered my hand to him, and sure enough, the bony hand was like ice. I repressed a shudder, holding him up. Lloyd shook more.
"I'm so sorry..." He looked down. "I can't come back anymore... I'm leaving in an hour, to the Dark Island."
Panic surged through me. Lloyd wouldn't survive the trip there in his state. He slipped s hand from mine, shaking harder, doubling over as he coughed loudly. It echoed through the yard, catching the attention of the guards. They started shouting, several running down from the hills towards Lloyd.
A stone hand gripped my shoulder, crushing as it tightened.
Things began to blur, everything was happening too fast, and in slow motion.
Lloyd was collapsing to the ground, shaking and twitching, convulsing on the ground. A thick, dark tarry substance drizzled out of his mouth, pooling under his head. I hunk I screamed at him, and fought to get to him. My hand is bleeding. There is bright red blood all over the fence and my hand.
They started carting him away, and I was being pulled away.
Then, everything stopped. My eyes glanced down before everything went black.
Everything hurt.
My back was aching, my heart was pounding, and my face felt like the grim reaper himself was trying to suck my soul out of my body. That was the fault of the breathing mask, forcing me to inhale and exhale, since I wasn't able to do that on my own. There wasn't enough strength in my soul to keep that going
I could see the edges of it. Clear plastic forming a bubble over my nose and cheeks, stopping somewhere under my lips.
I wanted Kai.
That was where one problem was. He's dead, they killed him for 'attempted assault'.
My eyes rolled towards the table and I let my hand skim over the blanket, creeping towards it. His letter, his final letter. I had to read it...
Soft paper edges touched my hands, accompanied by warmth. Like a flower closing its blossom as the sun descends at night, my fingers clenched around it.
"I'm sorry, son..."
There's sun... There's all this sun here... Under my bare feet, there's sand, and it's hot. I can feel light touching my body-every bit of my body-and I love it.
Opening my eyes, I can see a placid sea. I'm standing on the edge of a shore, and the water comes up, hitting my toes gently.
Memories rush back, and I feel like I'm drowning. There's all this color, and love, and emotion in them.
"Lloyd..." I turn, and there's Kai, standing by me. "We failed..."
I don't even have to imagine how he feels, because his face matches mine, tears running down without control.
"...So now what?"
"We wait... We wait for the others to come join us."
Waiting didn't seem too bad. At least here, everything was okay. The world we left was hopeless, but here... Here we have a chance.
Please review. I spent over 400 days on this, please make me feel like it was worth keeping.