Daddy?"
The boy sat up in bed, pulling his bedspread closer to his body. His little heart beat in pitter-patter movements, his eyes scanning the room in acute alertness. The shadows that flooded his room seemed to undulate all around him, causing his little body to quiver in small, quick trembles.
"Daddy?" his meek and frightened voice rose, attempting to pierce the darkness as an antidote to his fright but to no avail. The gentle wind swayed the trees outside with a newborn ferocity, and he pushed himself deeper inside his covers, wrapping his pillow around his head.
Another loud and forceful thud was heard farther inside the house.
The boy's heart skipped a beat.
Pulling the edges of his pillow tighter around his head, his face buried in his mattress, he quivered like a shaken fall leaf and sharp tears began to emerge from his eyes.
"Daddy, no please, Daddy…"
He soft sobs becoming more prominent, he pushed his face further into his mattress, hoping his father would not hear.
The sharp sound of shattering glass loudly resounded throughout the small house, followed by a slurred bellow. The boy crawled to the corner of his bed, and huddled against the wall.
Suddenly, a stumbling mass burst into his room, impaling the darkness with a shard of light. The boy shrieked.
The mass forcefully threw over his shoulder a large, circular-like object; the light glistening off of it before it crashed to the floor. Immediately after he charged, poor in step, at the huddled creature, the boy's shrills piercing.
"NO!! NO!! Nooo!! Ahh!"
The small boy was ripped from underneath his armor, tears streaming down his face; his mouth gapped open in vicious screaming.
"Damn brat! SHUTUP!! Shut the hell up! Stop that screamin'!"
Pinning him to the bed, he gripped tightly around the boy's small arms, causing them to grow slowly numb. At the harsh commands and dull pain in his arms, his screams faded to small murmuring.
"You want the neighbors to think I'm tryin' to kill you?? You're nothin' but a home wrecker an' a little shit you rotten kid! All you give me is trouble, from the day you where born nothin' but heartache, you're a curse to me!!", his foul breath invaded the boy's nostrils and the stench forced him to turn his head.
"Look at me what I'm talking to you!!!"
In that instant was pain.
"We found him alone in delirium…poor little boy…"
"Poor thing, where did you find him?"
"He was huddled on the floor of his bedroom. It appears he was beaten and then forcefully intoxicated."
"How dreadful! How much did he intake!? His little body can't withstand-"
"It was not very much…although he may have a mild hangover."
"How are his wounds?"
"Not serious, only a few bruises, and a black eye. He should be alright tomorrow."
"…And the father?"
"…He was found dead in the hallway…gunshot wound to the head. It also appears that he was intoxicated well above the normal level…"
"Mercy…"
"No one has claimed the body yet…so I looked at his personal records this morning…he has no immediate family, all are deceased or live in Solaris."
"Solaris?!"
"Yes…"
"Does the boy have a mother?"
"His mother was Anastasia Keelin but she died during childbirth ten years ago…"
"Do you think that's the reason why the father…?"
"Most definitely…"
"Poor little boy…"
The boy gazed to the gray sky beyond the window dripping with falling rain. Across from him sat the mysterious woman that had lead him by the hand from the hospital to the train. She tried to make conversation, but soon realized that he was too dumbfounded and overwhelmed to be much of a talker. The boy did not give her much thought, his senses numb, having not yet come to terms with the turn of events that had crumbled his world so quickly.
Fascinated with the rainy gloom outside, he shifted his weight around for a full frontal view, clenching the large, painful bruise on his right arm. Desperate for relief from the dull ache in his head, he pushed his forehead to the cold window. However this robbed his vision of the melancholy view so he pressed his face against the glass until his nose was squished under the weight. His large ocean eyes fixated on the rain outside, trying to leave the pain he felt, his reminder of reality, far behind.
Suddenly he heard a clearly audible human sound, like that of laughing, but he could not see its source. Parading through the rainfall was a small girl in a red rain jacket and yellow rain boots, a hat curiously absent from her head. Jumping through puddles, her short auburn hair flopped wildly around her, and at each big splash she created she let out a high pitched giggle.
The boy finally took notice of the hyper little girl as she jumped in his view, attempting a harsh attack on an enormous puddle. However her attempt failed, and she slipped under her little feet, landing hard on her bottom in the middle of her prey.
Her laughter killed, she let out a drawn out wail, slightly bowing her head down to greet her eyes to her clenched fists. In the corner of his eye the boy sensed movement, and upon turning that direction he saw a tall man with a brown trench coat and hat swiftly making his way towards the howling child.
Picking up the sodden girl, he wrapped her in his arms. The boy watched with them with keen interest, noting the man's gentleness. Cradling the small child, who was no more than one, he removed his hat, exposing his medium cut raven hair. He tenderly placed his hat (which was much too big for her) on her head and lifted her chin up with his hand, looking into her eyes. Still sobbing, the man guided her head against his chest, her tiny body followed until she lay in his arms. He said a few soft words to her, and she grew quiet as she placed her thumb in her mouth, her head comfortably fit against his chest. The boy kept his shimmering eyes on the man until he walked out of sight.
"I am sure you know why you are here today…"
The old woman removed her spectacles, and placed a medium sized folder on the desk in front of her. In front of her desk sat her common victim, his expression blank, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He was used to this.
The office was narrow and dark, only a sliver of the afternoon sunlight shining through the curtain of the lone window behind Mother Alixa. Religious figurines and sentimental trinkets decorated the shelves and plain beige walls, kept sparklingly free from dust. The furniture was a very old style, made of deep red cherry, and very plainly carved. The boys seat creaked when he sat down; this came to no surprise to him, as the number of times he had been summoned here was legendary (although the reason it creaked was most likely its old age). He knew the usual lecture of sorts was inevitable, however in the back of his mind there was some uncertainty…this was probably his worse offense.
Folding her hands on the folder, leaning over until her cross dangled, she set her expressionless eyes upon her young subject, frown retained.
The boy sensed her eyes, and shifted his to meet her small green pools. He returned her blank stare but not her lip shape; instead he gave a small smile, fabricated to annoy. It worked well, as it did often. Her eyebrows curved down to the bridge of her nose.
"Mr. Keelin, how old have you turned this past Saturday?"
"Thirteen, ma'am." he replied, leaning back in his chair.
"So…how is it that you have not matured some since becoming of an adolescent age? Am I to assume that you simply do not comply with the rules provided here, or the rules of basic human nature and respect? Self-control?"
The boy said nothing.
"I see. So, is it true that you ran after Dylan Brandrow with a letter opener?!"
"I-"
"Don't even try to deny it boy!"
Her voice raised to a coarse and low yell, spit spraying from her mouth. The boy was disgusted, but still upheld his silence.
"That is a high offense and a crime against -God-, I hope you realize. I would have hoped your record would not come to this but apparently you have not learned from your past mistakes."
Opening up the folder in front of her she shuffled through the contents.
The boy had his arms crossed over his chest, and with his clenched fists he secretly gave her the finger.
"Most of the papers in here record the times where you have gotten in trouble for poor behavior…mainly involvement in arguments and riff raff and the like, however…this is a horrible offense!"
The old nun looked up to him and she glared.
"Acts such as these are not permissible within these holy walls, do you understand me? This is a place for -God- loving children and young people who need a home. We provide you with food and shelter, love and care, and an excellent education you would otherwise be absolutely VOID of, and you return it to us with negativity and trouble making, and now more still, violence! You claim that these boys push you around, well Mr. Keelin it takes two to tango!"
The boy became frustrated at her last comment, reminding him of the countless times his tormentors unjustly evaded punishment. His voice was resurrected.
"Then why are the other boy's not punished as well for their actions against me, if it takes two to tango?"
The old nun turned her head to the boy and narrowed her eyes.
"Because I do not see the devil within them. But you! There is some sort of evilness inside of you that I can't deny. I just don't like you. You are an evil boy. You are thoroughly and purely evil. You should not be here."
The boy rolled his eyes.
"However it is not in my power to send you away. Besides you have no place to stay and -God- wishes us to love our enemies."
"So I am an enemy to you now?"
Her cold stare threw ice darts to his face.
"As a mischief maker for the devil, yes!!"
The boy sighed heavily, raising his other finger under the shelter of his crossed arms. "Okay, she is definitely off her rocker."
"As punishment and in hopes you will cease violent and harmful behavior…you are isolated to your dormitory for three weeks. "
"Three weeks!?" the boy released his arms and they landing on the sides of the chair, hands gripping tightly. Three weeks isolated and alone in his room, the only human contact being those who brought him food and drink. He hated to be alone.
"You, you can't do that to me!"
"I cannot allow you to harm the students and the peace here, young man." She returned, voice as cold as stone.
Anger rising, the boy gripped his seat.
"You can't lock me up in there for that amount of time, it's cruel!"
"It's cruel to run after someone with a letter opener, now are you going to keep pressing me, should I make it four weeks?"
The boy clenched his teeth in anger.
"Rrrr, I didn't do it!! Dylan is lying! They where making fun of me because of my long hair! And were saying I'm a loner! Dylan is lying! He is always lying! I yelled that he was a jerk and said he was fat and told him to shut up but that's it! Dylan is trying to get me in trouble, he always is!
Unmoved and unconvinced, Mother Alixa continued, "You're behavior that you displayed today will not be tolerated…therefore you will receive the highest punishment we can give you…and if you continue your violence we will have no choice but to send you to a juvenile "facility", do you understand?"
He said nothing, but the nun saw the bitter hatred and the beginning stages of angry tears, and she decided to drive her knife in deeper.
"You have always been a problem child, young man," she rose from her chair and stood by her window.
"Hot tempered, melancholy, negative attitude, yet curiously very quiet. And now you are exhibiting violent behaviors. It's no wonder that you have no friends at all."
Her last sentence spit poison through her lips and eyes as she turned to make eye contact. The enmity between the two never had emitted more heat. In the pain that her words caused, his rage climaxed. Yet knowing he could do nothing, he gripped the seat tighter and tighter, fighting back hot tears. He hated her, hated every single fiber of her being, and he would rip her to pieces if he could.
She concluded. "Well, I have had enough of you."
Taking two steps to her desk, she pressed an intercom button, and spoke into it, her harsh voice splitting the ear of the receiver.
"Yes, have Sister Xantalus report to my office immediately."
After a few moments of rancor silence, a nun quietly entered the room and closed the door behind her. She was willowy and frail looking yet exerted an air of strength that was undeniable, and she walked with elegant poise, her hands folded over her front. She was very young, about 26, her pale complexion beautiful and crystal, the only evidence of hair color being the ebony of her eyebrows. However today her face wore a look of grimness and faint distress. Upon seeing her recognizable 5'9" frame the boy lit up, and he looked up to her from his seat with words rushing from his eyes. She glimpsed at him, and then looked straight to Mother Alixa.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Sister, this boy because of his offense has been punished to three weeks confinement. Please see to it that you situate him. You will also be in charge of carrying him food at every meal."
Xantalus tipped her head respectively, "Yes," she replied without emotion.
Putting a soft hand on the boy's shoulder, he stood up to his full 5'5", Xantalus towering over him. One final shot of hatred was spat at Alixa until he turned his back and left with Xantalus' guiding his way.
Upon closing the door, Alixa sat down in her seat. She sat staring into space, fingers entangled in her cross.
"She can't do this to me! She doesn't even know what really happened! Nor does she even care! I hate her I hate her I hate her!" the boys puberty stricken voice shrieked in rage as Xantalus escorted him to his dormitory.
Laying a soft hand on his arm, she stopped him and turned to face him. "Krelian…do not let Mother Alixa's words or actions bother you…she is a bitter woman. I don't think she really wants to hurt you. She is not innately so hateful I think; moreover I believe she is crying inside. I think Annabelle's death destroyed her."
"She's the Mother for crying out loud, she's not supposed to have all these problems! She's supposed to be compassionate and loving and-"
"Shh, no need to raise your voice, there are people about…. Yes I know she should not be, but she was the only one fit for the position after Annabelle died. She is the only woman left of her generation with the proper training, and a younger woman can not be Mother, you know this. She may be unfair and unkind but we have no choice. We will just have to accept her."
"But she's so mean to me…"
The sinking sound of his voice broke her heart.
"Krelian…please don't sound so sad. I…I will try to talk to her, as much as I can. I will look out for you this time with more effect, I promise. I know…I know those boys are more to blame then you are. I don't know why Mother Alixa acts the way she does. I will do something about it, I promise. Please, don't be so sad."
She clasped the boy to him in a genuine hug, and his hands gripped onto her habit. The cross harshly against his face hurt but he didn't care, and he begun to stain the sacred nun dress with angry tears. She stroked her hand through his hair, her other hand over his shoulder.
"I'm so sick of it…I'm so sick of it all…I'm sick of Mother Alixa being so mean, I'm sick of all the kids being mean to me and not liking me, I'm sick of having no friends, I'm sick of being alone I'm sick of it…"
"Please don't cry…-God- will deliver you I promise you…I pray for you every day my child."
Krelian sighed and lifted his head to look to Xantalus. She radiated a warm smile, which relaxed him a bit.
"Well, we better go I guess," he said, running his sleeve under his nose.
Painfully, Xantalus locked the door to -her child's- room. He was, in her heart, her child ever since she had brought him from that hospital three years ago, battered, lost, and in need of love. Love and acceptance however was not granted to him in the Saint Paula's Nimrodian Faith Orphanage, rather constant misery and loneliness. With raised eyes Xantalus questioned -God-.
The girl was finding it difficult to concentrate on her spelling with all the noise. Looking up from her workbook, pencil frozen in air, she sighed at the display three desks over.
"Those brats are making fun of the new kid…"
Putting her notebook on her desk, placing the pencil inside so as not to loose her spot, she walked over to the ruckus.
"So your mommy and daddy don't believe in God, huh? They're going to go to hell you know!"
"Yeah and you probably are too!" a snotty girl said, proudly flipping her golden curls over her shoulder.
"My mommy believes in God, and she is going to heaven, and so am I!" she said, nose in the air.
"Ya ar'nt gonna be in heaven though, yer gonna go ta hell, cuz you mus' be evil like yer parents!"
"Yeah!" All the children chimed together, laughing.
The girl approached the crowd peacefully, determined to save her classmate.
"Please don't be mean to him you guys."
The snotty girl turned her head along with the rest, but the she held a look of disgust upon seeing the speaker.
"Oh its yooou, miss I-am-better-than-anyone-because-my-daddy's-a-doctor-girl. What do YOU want?"
Undaunted she stated, "I don't think its fair that you are mean to him."
"Why?" a haughty boy asked, "he's going to hell! He's evil!"
"Just because his mommy and daddy don't believe…it doesn't mean he can't think for himself."
"Yer dumb," said a scruffy boy raising his voice, "everywone knows dat every kid born from 'rents that don' believe are evil too!"
"Yeah!" the children chimed once more, the snotty girl not forgetting to flip her hair once again.
"You just want to come over here to cause trouble 'cause you're jealous of me. You're jealous 'cause I'm prettier than you are and I have prettier hair than you do. You are ugly and you have ugly, gross red hair! Ugly! Yooour, jealous!" the snotty girl said, her sitting posture on the top of her desk portraying the most hideous display of pertness and conceit.
"Yeah!" the boys on her side chanted, obviously infatuated with this young, vain diva.
Wanting more reaction from her admirers, she threw a cruel stab.
"You're also jealous because I have a mommy who is sweet and nice, one who isn't a baby killer!! Ha-ha-ha!!" she spit her words out like venom, and as she giggled, one small white hand over her mouth, her curls bounced.
The girl stood still, vicious giggling resounding in the air around her, the snotty girls rising far above the rest. The girl noticed that the boy she was standing up for looked sad.
Fists clenched, the girl tried to keep her composure. After a few seconds, she calmed herself and replied,
"No, Janis, I am afraid that you are jealous because your daddy hates you and doesn't want to see you anymore. You're jealous because my daddy loves me and lives with me, and yours doesn't care."
The girl's bitter words froze air. Janis stopped laughing and a small gasp escaped her lips. A harsh stare existed between the two girls, and the boys sat silent, the classmate in need of rescue became nervous.
Suddenly Janis' face cringed and she burst into tears. Sobbing, she ran to her teacher, who was preparing for class resumption, chanting,
"She said a mean thing! She said a mean thing! Mrs. Shiiiiiiizzzziiitttooooo she said something meeeaaaaannnn…"
"Lookit whut you did! You made Janis, the purtiest gurl in school, you made her cry! Great going, ugly!"
The scruffy boy pushed the girl back and the silent boy she had tried to save broke his silence.
"Don't you touch her you jerk!"
"Enough!"
The imposing adult voice halted the children, and they stood still, their attention to the source of command, which was a middle-aged woman, small face pinched with anger, sitting at her desk.
"All of you to the principals office, immediately! Especially you", she said, pointing to the girl.
"You need to learn how to be nice! Go now, all of you!"
Sitting in the office, the boy and girl waited their turn for the principal.
"Thanks for sticking up for me," the boy said, breaking the silence.
"It's no trouble," the girl said, and the boy could see tears forming in her eyes.
"Why are you crying, Elly?"
The girl blinked and looked at him, puzzled.
"Elly? My name isn't Elly. But my middle name is. How did you know?"
"I don't know…I just kind of did."
"Weird…"
"Yeah…"
The girl turned her head, as if to cease the flow of conversation, but the boy wanted more from her than that.
"Well why are you crying?"
"Because I am sad at what Janis said to me."
"Don't listen to her", he said putting his hand over hers, summoning her face to turn to his, "she is just a mean person. You stuck up for me today and you made me feel good. You are nice so you should feel good too."
The girl sniffled, "Thanks."
"My name is Lacan. What's your name?"
"Sophia", the little girl replied with a smile.
"Can I call you Elly, Sophia? It just seems to fit better for some reason."
"Sure", she said, the happiness of meeting someone new nullifying Janis' wound.
Krelian walked through the main hall of the orphanage, suitcases in hand. The walls held many memories and looking upon them he could hear the echoes of days past, which, upon his arrival into the real world, he hoped would evanescence completely from his memory. There was only one sound he cherished at that moment, and it was that of Xantalus' smooth stride behind him. He sadly questioned to himself if he would ever hear her light delicate steps again. Nun's where never allowed to leave the cathedral facilities unless on charity and in the times ahead he would have little free time.
Maternal tears threatened Xantalus, and she bit her tongue as to not fall into sobs of joy and sorrow so suddenly. However her bitter elation was sprinkled with a different sadness, as walking behind Krelian with his hair in a ponytail revealed a large bruise on the back of his neck, an eighteenth birthday present given to him by none other than a large rock flung from Dylan Brandrow's hand. Seeing Krelian hurt in anyway broke her heart. She loved him.
Krelian was relieved that his tormentors for the past eight years where not present at his departure, it would have ruined his bittersweet debouch. Yet he couldn't suppress the wish that someone of his age was there to bid him farewell, or to join him in his leave even. He was a bit intimidated and apprehensive. With a heavy heart he remembered he really didn't have any friends. "I don't know what I'd do without Xantalus," he thought, hoping to never forget the debt he owed her.
Stepping outside down the broad stone steps, Krelian made his way to the edge of the street to wait for the shuttle bus, Xantalus stopping beside him.
Dropping his luggage down besides him without care, he checked to make sure his wallet was in his coat pocket. Secured that it was there, he turned his head to face Xantalus. Looking up at him, she realized with maternal pride what a handsome man he had become. Tall, around 6'3", he was lean and well built. He possessed dark oceanic eyes that where as mysterious as they were beautiful, his face blessed with elegant contours that shaped his nose, eyes, jaw line, and mouth. But no God given asset to her was more extraordinary then his mid-length hair. It was exquisite, its midnight blueness matching his eyes perfectly, cascading over his shoulders; framing his face in such as way as a final touch to his incredible masculine beauty. It was a sad irony, she thought, that what is indeed his greatest asset is what he is ridiculed for the most. Breaking the silence and her awe, she inquired,
"So you are beginning your training at the base. You will be housed there too?"
"Yeah, until I can find a house for myself. It'll probably take a year or so, maybe less."
"I see…"
Xantalus turned her focus to the breeze, and her eyes emitted the shimmering of deep thought and reminiscence. Krelian studied her face, curious at to what her next words may be.
"I remember the first time I brought here you, Krelian. You where such a small child and the rain made you look so much smaller. But you where a tough little man and you kept me on my toes for a while…but you really where such an inquisitive, warm child."
The tonicity in her face made it clear that she was near tears, and Krelian looked at her awed.
"That was a long time ago," he stated, looking into blank space such as she. He remembered holding Xantalus' hand in the rain, climbing up those stone steps that seemed so vast, tired after walking five blocks from the train station. He remembered that little brown cap that fit just a little too snuggly, the little gray coat he wore that had that tear in the arm. Yet what he remembered most vividly of all was the site he saw staring up through the fallen rain. "SAINT PAULA'S ORPHANAGE: A Branch of the Nimrodian Faith Cathedral" was written in large metallic letters over the front gate, and it caused a sense of intimidation to swell in his stomach. Something he could not understand.
Krelian remembered that day well, remembered it like it was not the many years past that it really was. He was thinking of this for a long while, until Xantalus spoke up,
"Why are we reminiscing in silence?"
"Probably…well, probably because this is an odd situation for us…I never really thought of saying goodbye and leaving on my own."
"Yes," Xantalus stated the tone of her voice growing heavier, "it seems to have crept up on me too. But I want you to know Krelian, that I am very proud of you."
"Proud of me," he inquired curiously, "why?"
Xantalus shifted sharply to him, a bit ruffled. Her eyebrows lowered, and through her pressed lips she spoke, "What do you mean why? You graduated with honors, and you're aiming high aren't you, in terms of your life goal? To be Lieutenant General of our Gear Platoons? That's quite a large goal and will be a difficult one to obtain. But you pursue it without fear and I know you can take on anything if you put your mind to it. You've grown into a fine young man, Krelain. That is why I'm proud of you."
Throughout her speech her frown softened to a warm smile and Krelian felt awkward under the glow, regardless if it was Xantalus.
"Thank you for the kind words-" Krelian was about to say, but the shuttle bus pulled up besides them before he could finish, almost out of no where.
"Oh dear…," Xantalus breathed through her teeth, and Krelian thought she never sounded more distressed.
"Man she doesn't even really know how much she means to me…I guess I'll have to write her telling about it," Krelian thought with disappointment, gripping the two large suitcases in his hands.
To his somewhat surprised Xantalus clasped her hands onto his arms suddenly, boring her eyes into his skull.
"Please, promise me you'll visit me, or write me even. My heart will ache for you, Krelian. You where always my little boy…" A single tear betrayed her and fell down her cheek, her ice blue eyes appearing oily and red.
Again feeling awkward under such an emotional turnout, he could only gaze to her. But his eyes told her everything and she understood. She understood him.
"Walk with God…" she said embracing him. He released the suitcases, which landed with a hard thud besides her, startling her a bit.
"Thank you for everything Xantalus, I really cannot thank you enough. One day I'm going to do something special for you to reward you for all the good you have brought me. I'll write you as soon as I can, I promise."
Surprised and proud of him for conveying so much at such a moment, she clasped him tighter, inhaling the familiar smell of his hair, still so childlike to her in ways, for what she hoped not to be for the last time.
She let out a sob and Krelian felt his stomach sink. He was really leaving. He was leaving her.
Releasing her, his arms feeling like clay, he grabbed the suitcases and loaded them on the bus. Xantalus resumed her same stance as always, remarkable posture and hands folded neatly over her front. She was smiling through her tears.
Krelian went to her for the last time, a painfully swift hug and "Godspeed's" and "I will see you soon's" spoken before circumstance separated them. When he loaded the bus and sat down in his seat, he looked at her once more through the window with a sad smile. To his warm surprise she reached out to place her palm against it. Krelian put his hand to hers and new tears emerged quietly from her ice eyes. However those last few precious moments did not last. And as the bus rolled away, a single tear was shed and this time he made no move to remove it in shame.
The boy sat up in bed, pulling his bedspread closer to his body. His little heart beat in pitter-patter movements, his eyes scanning the room in acute alertness. The shadows that flooded his room seemed to undulate all around him, causing his little body to quiver in small, quick trembles.
"Daddy?" his meek and frightened voice rose, attempting to pierce the darkness as an antidote to his fright but to no avail. The gentle wind swayed the trees outside with a newborn ferocity, and he pushed himself deeper inside his covers, wrapping his pillow around his head.
Another loud and forceful thud was heard farther inside the house.
The boy's heart skipped a beat.
Pulling the edges of his pillow tighter around his head, his face buried in his mattress, he quivered like a shaken fall leaf and sharp tears began to emerge from his eyes.
"Daddy, no please, Daddy…"
He soft sobs becoming more prominent, he pushed his face further into his mattress, hoping his father would not hear.
The sharp sound of shattering glass loudly resounded throughout the small house, followed by a slurred bellow. The boy crawled to the corner of his bed, and huddled against the wall.
Suddenly, a stumbling mass burst into his room, impaling the darkness with a shard of light. The boy shrieked.
The mass forcefully threw over his shoulder a large, circular-like object; the light glistening off of it before it crashed to the floor. Immediately after he charged, poor in step, at the huddled creature, the boy's shrills piercing.
"NO!! NO!! Nooo!! Ahh!"
The small boy was ripped from underneath his armor, tears streaming down his face; his mouth gapped open in vicious screaming.
"Damn brat! SHUTUP!! Shut the hell up! Stop that screamin'!"
Pinning him to the bed, he gripped tightly around the boy's small arms, causing them to grow slowly numb. At the harsh commands and dull pain in his arms, his screams faded to small murmuring.
"You want the neighbors to think I'm tryin' to kill you?? You're nothin' but a home wrecker an' a little shit you rotten kid! All you give me is trouble, from the day you where born nothin' but heartache, you're a curse to me!!", his foul breath invaded the boy's nostrils and the stench forced him to turn his head.
"Look at me what I'm talking to you!!!"
In that instant was pain.
"We found him alone in delirium…poor little boy…"
"Poor thing, where did you find him?"
"He was huddled on the floor of his bedroom. It appears he was beaten and then forcefully intoxicated."
"How dreadful! How much did he intake!? His little body can't withstand-"
"It was not very much…although he may have a mild hangover."
"How are his wounds?"
"Not serious, only a few bruises, and a black eye. He should be alright tomorrow."
"…And the father?"
"…He was found dead in the hallway…gunshot wound to the head. It also appears that he was intoxicated well above the normal level…"
"Mercy…"
"No one has claimed the body yet…so I looked at his personal records this morning…he has no immediate family, all are deceased or live in Solaris."
"Solaris?!"
"Yes…"
"Does the boy have a mother?"
"His mother was Anastasia Keelin but she died during childbirth ten years ago…"
"Do you think that's the reason why the father…?"
"Most definitely…"
"Poor little boy…"
The boy gazed to the gray sky beyond the window dripping with falling rain. Across from him sat the mysterious woman that had lead him by the hand from the hospital to the train. She tried to make conversation, but soon realized that he was too dumbfounded and overwhelmed to be much of a talker. The boy did not give her much thought, his senses numb, having not yet come to terms with the turn of events that had crumbled his world so quickly.
Fascinated with the rainy gloom outside, he shifted his weight around for a full frontal view, clenching the large, painful bruise on his right arm. Desperate for relief from the dull ache in his head, he pushed his forehead to the cold window. However this robbed his vision of the melancholy view so he pressed his face against the glass until his nose was squished under the weight. His large ocean eyes fixated on the rain outside, trying to leave the pain he felt, his reminder of reality, far behind.
Suddenly he heard a clearly audible human sound, like that of laughing, but he could not see its source. Parading through the rainfall was a small girl in a red rain jacket and yellow rain boots, a hat curiously absent from her head. Jumping through puddles, her short auburn hair flopped wildly around her, and at each big splash she created she let out a high pitched giggle.
The boy finally took notice of the hyper little girl as she jumped in his view, attempting a harsh attack on an enormous puddle. However her attempt failed, and she slipped under her little feet, landing hard on her bottom in the middle of her prey.
Her laughter killed, she let out a drawn out wail, slightly bowing her head down to greet her eyes to her clenched fists. In the corner of his eye the boy sensed movement, and upon turning that direction he saw a tall man with a brown trench coat and hat swiftly making his way towards the howling child.
Picking up the sodden girl, he wrapped her in his arms. The boy watched with them with keen interest, noting the man's gentleness. Cradling the small child, who was no more than one, he removed his hat, exposing his medium cut raven hair. He tenderly placed his hat (which was much too big for her) on her head and lifted her chin up with his hand, looking into her eyes. Still sobbing, the man guided her head against his chest, her tiny body followed until she lay in his arms. He said a few soft words to her, and she grew quiet as she placed her thumb in her mouth, her head comfortably fit against his chest. The boy kept his shimmering eyes on the man until he walked out of sight.
"I am sure you know why you are here today…"
The old woman removed her spectacles, and placed a medium sized folder on the desk in front of her. In front of her desk sat her common victim, his expression blank, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He was used to this.
The office was narrow and dark, only a sliver of the afternoon sunlight shining through the curtain of the lone window behind Mother Alixa. Religious figurines and sentimental trinkets decorated the shelves and plain beige walls, kept sparklingly free from dust. The furniture was a very old style, made of deep red cherry, and very plainly carved. The boys seat creaked when he sat down; this came to no surprise to him, as the number of times he had been summoned here was legendary (although the reason it creaked was most likely its old age). He knew the usual lecture of sorts was inevitable, however in the back of his mind there was some uncertainty…this was probably his worse offense.
Folding her hands on the folder, leaning over until her cross dangled, she set her expressionless eyes upon her young subject, frown retained.
The boy sensed her eyes, and shifted his to meet her small green pools. He returned her blank stare but not her lip shape; instead he gave a small smile, fabricated to annoy. It worked well, as it did often. Her eyebrows curved down to the bridge of her nose.
"Mr. Keelin, how old have you turned this past Saturday?"
"Thirteen, ma'am." he replied, leaning back in his chair.
"So…how is it that you have not matured some since becoming of an adolescent age? Am I to assume that you simply do not comply with the rules provided here, or the rules of basic human nature and respect? Self-control?"
The boy said nothing.
"I see. So, is it true that you ran after Dylan Brandrow with a letter opener?!"
"I-"
"Don't even try to deny it boy!"
Her voice raised to a coarse and low yell, spit spraying from her mouth. The boy was disgusted, but still upheld his silence.
"That is a high offense and a crime against -God-, I hope you realize. I would have hoped your record would not come to this but apparently you have not learned from your past mistakes."
Opening up the folder in front of her she shuffled through the contents.
The boy had his arms crossed over his chest, and with his clenched fists he secretly gave her the finger.
"Most of the papers in here record the times where you have gotten in trouble for poor behavior…mainly involvement in arguments and riff raff and the like, however…this is a horrible offense!"
The old nun looked up to him and she glared.
"Acts such as these are not permissible within these holy walls, do you understand me? This is a place for -God- loving children and young people who need a home. We provide you with food and shelter, love and care, and an excellent education you would otherwise be absolutely VOID of, and you return it to us with negativity and trouble making, and now more still, violence! You claim that these boys push you around, well Mr. Keelin it takes two to tango!"
The boy became frustrated at her last comment, reminding him of the countless times his tormentors unjustly evaded punishment. His voice was resurrected.
"Then why are the other boy's not punished as well for their actions against me, if it takes two to tango?"
The old nun turned her head to the boy and narrowed her eyes.
"Because I do not see the devil within them. But you! There is some sort of evilness inside of you that I can't deny. I just don't like you. You are an evil boy. You are thoroughly and purely evil. You should not be here."
The boy rolled his eyes.
"However it is not in my power to send you away. Besides you have no place to stay and -God- wishes us to love our enemies."
"So I am an enemy to you now?"
Her cold stare threw ice darts to his face.
"As a mischief maker for the devil, yes!!"
The boy sighed heavily, raising his other finger under the shelter of his crossed arms. "Okay, she is definitely off her rocker."
"As punishment and in hopes you will cease violent and harmful behavior…you are isolated to your dormitory for three weeks. "
"Three weeks!?" the boy released his arms and they landing on the sides of the chair, hands gripping tightly. Three weeks isolated and alone in his room, the only human contact being those who brought him food and drink. He hated to be alone.
"You, you can't do that to me!"
"I cannot allow you to harm the students and the peace here, young man." She returned, voice as cold as stone.
Anger rising, the boy gripped his seat.
"You can't lock me up in there for that amount of time, it's cruel!"
"It's cruel to run after someone with a letter opener, now are you going to keep pressing me, should I make it four weeks?"
The boy clenched his teeth in anger.
"Rrrr, I didn't do it!! Dylan is lying! They where making fun of me because of my long hair! And were saying I'm a loner! Dylan is lying! He is always lying! I yelled that he was a jerk and said he was fat and told him to shut up but that's it! Dylan is trying to get me in trouble, he always is!
Unmoved and unconvinced, Mother Alixa continued, "You're behavior that you displayed today will not be tolerated…therefore you will receive the highest punishment we can give you…and if you continue your violence we will have no choice but to send you to a juvenile "facility", do you understand?"
He said nothing, but the nun saw the bitter hatred and the beginning stages of angry tears, and she decided to drive her knife in deeper.
"You have always been a problem child, young man," she rose from her chair and stood by her window.
"Hot tempered, melancholy, negative attitude, yet curiously very quiet. And now you are exhibiting violent behaviors. It's no wonder that you have no friends at all."
Her last sentence spit poison through her lips and eyes as she turned to make eye contact. The enmity between the two never had emitted more heat. In the pain that her words caused, his rage climaxed. Yet knowing he could do nothing, he gripped the seat tighter and tighter, fighting back hot tears. He hated her, hated every single fiber of her being, and he would rip her to pieces if he could.
She concluded. "Well, I have had enough of you."
Taking two steps to her desk, she pressed an intercom button, and spoke into it, her harsh voice splitting the ear of the receiver.
"Yes, have Sister Xantalus report to my office immediately."
After a few moments of rancor silence, a nun quietly entered the room and closed the door behind her. She was willowy and frail looking yet exerted an air of strength that was undeniable, and she walked with elegant poise, her hands folded over her front. She was very young, about 26, her pale complexion beautiful and crystal, the only evidence of hair color being the ebony of her eyebrows. However today her face wore a look of grimness and faint distress. Upon seeing her recognizable 5'9" frame the boy lit up, and he looked up to her from his seat with words rushing from his eyes. She glimpsed at him, and then looked straight to Mother Alixa.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Sister, this boy because of his offense has been punished to three weeks confinement. Please see to it that you situate him. You will also be in charge of carrying him food at every meal."
Xantalus tipped her head respectively, "Yes," she replied without emotion.
Putting a soft hand on the boy's shoulder, he stood up to his full 5'5", Xantalus towering over him. One final shot of hatred was spat at Alixa until he turned his back and left with Xantalus' guiding his way.
Upon closing the door, Alixa sat down in her seat. She sat staring into space, fingers entangled in her cross.
"She can't do this to me! She doesn't even know what really happened! Nor does she even care! I hate her I hate her I hate her!" the boys puberty stricken voice shrieked in rage as Xantalus escorted him to his dormitory.
Laying a soft hand on his arm, she stopped him and turned to face him. "Krelian…do not let Mother Alixa's words or actions bother you…she is a bitter woman. I don't think she really wants to hurt you. She is not innately so hateful I think; moreover I believe she is crying inside. I think Annabelle's death destroyed her."
"She's the Mother for crying out loud, she's not supposed to have all these problems! She's supposed to be compassionate and loving and-"
"Shh, no need to raise your voice, there are people about…. Yes I know she should not be, but she was the only one fit for the position after Annabelle died. She is the only woman left of her generation with the proper training, and a younger woman can not be Mother, you know this. She may be unfair and unkind but we have no choice. We will just have to accept her."
"But she's so mean to me…"
The sinking sound of his voice broke her heart.
"Krelian…please don't sound so sad. I…I will try to talk to her, as much as I can. I will look out for you this time with more effect, I promise. I know…I know those boys are more to blame then you are. I don't know why Mother Alixa acts the way she does. I will do something about it, I promise. Please, don't be so sad."
She clasped the boy to him in a genuine hug, and his hands gripped onto her habit. The cross harshly against his face hurt but he didn't care, and he begun to stain the sacred nun dress with angry tears. She stroked her hand through his hair, her other hand over his shoulder.
"I'm so sick of it…I'm so sick of it all…I'm sick of Mother Alixa being so mean, I'm sick of all the kids being mean to me and not liking me, I'm sick of having no friends, I'm sick of being alone I'm sick of it…"
"Please don't cry…-God- will deliver you I promise you…I pray for you every day my child."
Krelian sighed and lifted his head to look to Xantalus. She radiated a warm smile, which relaxed him a bit.
"Well, we better go I guess," he said, running his sleeve under his nose.
Painfully, Xantalus locked the door to -her child's- room. He was, in her heart, her child ever since she had brought him from that hospital three years ago, battered, lost, and in need of love. Love and acceptance however was not granted to him in the Saint Paula's Nimrodian Faith Orphanage, rather constant misery and loneliness. With raised eyes Xantalus questioned -God-.
The girl was finding it difficult to concentrate on her spelling with all the noise. Looking up from her workbook, pencil frozen in air, she sighed at the display three desks over.
"Those brats are making fun of the new kid…"
Putting her notebook on her desk, placing the pencil inside so as not to loose her spot, she walked over to the ruckus.
"So your mommy and daddy don't believe in God, huh? They're going to go to hell you know!"
"Yeah and you probably are too!" a snotty girl said, proudly flipping her golden curls over her shoulder.
"My mommy believes in God, and she is going to heaven, and so am I!" she said, nose in the air.
"Ya ar'nt gonna be in heaven though, yer gonna go ta hell, cuz you mus' be evil like yer parents!"
"Yeah!" All the children chimed together, laughing.
The girl approached the crowd peacefully, determined to save her classmate.
"Please don't be mean to him you guys."
The snotty girl turned her head along with the rest, but the she held a look of disgust upon seeing the speaker.
"Oh its yooou, miss I-am-better-than-anyone-because-my-daddy's-a-doctor-girl. What do YOU want?"
Undaunted she stated, "I don't think its fair that you are mean to him."
"Why?" a haughty boy asked, "he's going to hell! He's evil!"
"Just because his mommy and daddy don't believe…it doesn't mean he can't think for himself."
"Yer dumb," said a scruffy boy raising his voice, "everywone knows dat every kid born from 'rents that don' believe are evil too!"
"Yeah!" the children chimed once more, the snotty girl not forgetting to flip her hair once again.
"You just want to come over here to cause trouble 'cause you're jealous of me. You're jealous 'cause I'm prettier than you are and I have prettier hair than you do. You are ugly and you have ugly, gross red hair! Ugly! Yooour, jealous!" the snotty girl said, her sitting posture on the top of her desk portraying the most hideous display of pertness and conceit.
"Yeah!" the boys on her side chanted, obviously infatuated with this young, vain diva.
Wanting more reaction from her admirers, she threw a cruel stab.
"You're also jealous because I have a mommy who is sweet and nice, one who isn't a baby killer!! Ha-ha-ha!!" she spit her words out like venom, and as she giggled, one small white hand over her mouth, her curls bounced.
The girl stood still, vicious giggling resounding in the air around her, the snotty girls rising far above the rest. The girl noticed that the boy she was standing up for looked sad.
Fists clenched, the girl tried to keep her composure. After a few seconds, she calmed herself and replied,
"No, Janis, I am afraid that you are jealous because your daddy hates you and doesn't want to see you anymore. You're jealous because my daddy loves me and lives with me, and yours doesn't care."
The girl's bitter words froze air. Janis stopped laughing and a small gasp escaped her lips. A harsh stare existed between the two girls, and the boys sat silent, the classmate in need of rescue became nervous.
Suddenly Janis' face cringed and she burst into tears. Sobbing, she ran to her teacher, who was preparing for class resumption, chanting,
"She said a mean thing! She said a mean thing! Mrs. Shiiiiiiizzzziiitttooooo she said something meeeaaaaannnn…"
"Lookit whut you did! You made Janis, the purtiest gurl in school, you made her cry! Great going, ugly!"
The scruffy boy pushed the girl back and the silent boy she had tried to save broke his silence.
"Don't you touch her you jerk!"
"Enough!"
The imposing adult voice halted the children, and they stood still, their attention to the source of command, which was a middle-aged woman, small face pinched with anger, sitting at her desk.
"All of you to the principals office, immediately! Especially you", she said, pointing to the girl.
"You need to learn how to be nice! Go now, all of you!"
Sitting in the office, the boy and girl waited their turn for the principal.
"Thanks for sticking up for me," the boy said, breaking the silence.
"It's no trouble," the girl said, and the boy could see tears forming in her eyes.
"Why are you crying, Elly?"
The girl blinked and looked at him, puzzled.
"Elly? My name isn't Elly. But my middle name is. How did you know?"
"I don't know…I just kind of did."
"Weird…"
"Yeah…"
The girl turned her head, as if to cease the flow of conversation, but the boy wanted more from her than that.
"Well why are you crying?"
"Because I am sad at what Janis said to me."
"Don't listen to her", he said putting his hand over hers, summoning her face to turn to his, "she is just a mean person. You stuck up for me today and you made me feel good. You are nice so you should feel good too."
The girl sniffled, "Thanks."
"My name is Lacan. What's your name?"
"Sophia", the little girl replied with a smile.
"Can I call you Elly, Sophia? It just seems to fit better for some reason."
"Sure", she said, the happiness of meeting someone new nullifying Janis' wound.
Krelian walked through the main hall of the orphanage, suitcases in hand. The walls held many memories and looking upon them he could hear the echoes of days past, which, upon his arrival into the real world, he hoped would evanescence completely from his memory. There was only one sound he cherished at that moment, and it was that of Xantalus' smooth stride behind him. He sadly questioned to himself if he would ever hear her light delicate steps again. Nun's where never allowed to leave the cathedral facilities unless on charity and in the times ahead he would have little free time.
Maternal tears threatened Xantalus, and she bit her tongue as to not fall into sobs of joy and sorrow so suddenly. However her bitter elation was sprinkled with a different sadness, as walking behind Krelian with his hair in a ponytail revealed a large bruise on the back of his neck, an eighteenth birthday present given to him by none other than a large rock flung from Dylan Brandrow's hand. Seeing Krelian hurt in anyway broke her heart. She loved him.
Krelian was relieved that his tormentors for the past eight years where not present at his departure, it would have ruined his bittersweet debouch. Yet he couldn't suppress the wish that someone of his age was there to bid him farewell, or to join him in his leave even. He was a bit intimidated and apprehensive. With a heavy heart he remembered he really didn't have any friends. "I don't know what I'd do without Xantalus," he thought, hoping to never forget the debt he owed her.
Stepping outside down the broad stone steps, Krelian made his way to the edge of the street to wait for the shuttle bus, Xantalus stopping beside him.
Dropping his luggage down besides him without care, he checked to make sure his wallet was in his coat pocket. Secured that it was there, he turned his head to face Xantalus. Looking up at him, she realized with maternal pride what a handsome man he had become. Tall, around 6'3", he was lean and well built. He possessed dark oceanic eyes that where as mysterious as they were beautiful, his face blessed with elegant contours that shaped his nose, eyes, jaw line, and mouth. But no God given asset to her was more extraordinary then his mid-length hair. It was exquisite, its midnight blueness matching his eyes perfectly, cascading over his shoulders; framing his face in such as way as a final touch to his incredible masculine beauty. It was a sad irony, she thought, that what is indeed his greatest asset is what he is ridiculed for the most. Breaking the silence and her awe, she inquired,
"So you are beginning your training at the base. You will be housed there too?"
"Yeah, until I can find a house for myself. It'll probably take a year or so, maybe less."
"I see…"
Xantalus turned her focus to the breeze, and her eyes emitted the shimmering of deep thought and reminiscence. Krelian studied her face, curious at to what her next words may be.
"I remember the first time I brought here you, Krelian. You where such a small child and the rain made you look so much smaller. But you where a tough little man and you kept me on my toes for a while…but you really where such an inquisitive, warm child."
The tonicity in her face made it clear that she was near tears, and Krelian looked at her awed.
"That was a long time ago," he stated, looking into blank space such as she. He remembered holding Xantalus' hand in the rain, climbing up those stone steps that seemed so vast, tired after walking five blocks from the train station. He remembered that little brown cap that fit just a little too snuggly, the little gray coat he wore that had that tear in the arm. Yet what he remembered most vividly of all was the site he saw staring up through the fallen rain. "SAINT PAULA'S ORPHANAGE: A Branch of the Nimrodian Faith Cathedral" was written in large metallic letters over the front gate, and it caused a sense of intimidation to swell in his stomach. Something he could not understand.
Krelian remembered that day well, remembered it like it was not the many years past that it really was. He was thinking of this for a long while, until Xantalus spoke up,
"Why are we reminiscing in silence?"
"Probably…well, probably because this is an odd situation for us…I never really thought of saying goodbye and leaving on my own."
"Yes," Xantalus stated the tone of her voice growing heavier, "it seems to have crept up on me too. But I want you to know Krelian, that I am very proud of you."
"Proud of me," he inquired curiously, "why?"
Xantalus shifted sharply to him, a bit ruffled. Her eyebrows lowered, and through her pressed lips she spoke, "What do you mean why? You graduated with honors, and you're aiming high aren't you, in terms of your life goal? To be Lieutenant General of our Gear Platoons? That's quite a large goal and will be a difficult one to obtain. But you pursue it without fear and I know you can take on anything if you put your mind to it. You've grown into a fine young man, Krelain. That is why I'm proud of you."
Throughout her speech her frown softened to a warm smile and Krelian felt awkward under the glow, regardless if it was Xantalus.
"Thank you for the kind words-" Krelian was about to say, but the shuttle bus pulled up besides them before he could finish, almost out of no where.
"Oh dear…," Xantalus breathed through her teeth, and Krelian thought she never sounded more distressed.
"Man she doesn't even really know how much she means to me…I guess I'll have to write her telling about it," Krelian thought with disappointment, gripping the two large suitcases in his hands.
To his somewhat surprised Xantalus clasped her hands onto his arms suddenly, boring her eyes into his skull.
"Please, promise me you'll visit me, or write me even. My heart will ache for you, Krelian. You where always my little boy…" A single tear betrayed her and fell down her cheek, her ice blue eyes appearing oily and red.
Again feeling awkward under such an emotional turnout, he could only gaze to her. But his eyes told her everything and she understood. She understood him.
"Walk with God…" she said embracing him. He released the suitcases, which landed with a hard thud besides her, startling her a bit.
"Thank you for everything Xantalus, I really cannot thank you enough. One day I'm going to do something special for you to reward you for all the good you have brought me. I'll write you as soon as I can, I promise."
Surprised and proud of him for conveying so much at such a moment, she clasped him tighter, inhaling the familiar smell of his hair, still so childlike to her in ways, for what she hoped not to be for the last time.
She let out a sob and Krelian felt his stomach sink. He was really leaving. He was leaving her.
Releasing her, his arms feeling like clay, he grabbed the suitcases and loaded them on the bus. Xantalus resumed her same stance as always, remarkable posture and hands folded neatly over her front. She was smiling through her tears.
Krelian went to her for the last time, a painfully swift hug and "Godspeed's" and "I will see you soon's" spoken before circumstance separated them. When he loaded the bus and sat down in his seat, he looked at her once more through the window with a sad smile. To his warm surprise she reached out to place her palm against it. Krelian put his hand to hers and new tears emerged quietly from her ice eyes. However those last few precious moments did not last. And as the bus rolled away, a single tear was shed and this time he made no move to remove it in shame.