A Past Wished Forgotten
By Kavick
This story takes place when Stith is seven years old, about the equivalent of a four year old human child, and explains where she got her attitude and her hatred for the Drej.
The night the Drej came, Stith heard the shouting in her sleep. It made her whimper and twist. She woke with a scream in her head, with the echo of it on the air. And wanted her mother. She climbed out of bed, her clawed feet silent on the floor. Rubbing her eyes, she wandered down the hallway where the light burned low. But the room with its big blue bed and pretty white flowers was empty. Her mother's scent was there, a comfort.
As she approached the stairs, she saw the lights were on downstairs. The front door was open, and the late-summer breeze fluttered her nightgown. She thought there might be company, and maybe there would be civa cakes. Quiet as a mouse, she crept down the stairs, holding her fingers to her beaklike mouth to stop a giggle. She peeked into the living room. The vases were broken, shattered on the wooden floor with their elegant and exotic flowers trampled and dying. The walls were splattered with red, and tables were overturned.
There was a terrible smell, one that seemed to paint the inside of Stith's throat with something vile and had her stomach rippling. She saw glass winking on the floor like scattered diamonds, and streaks of red across the floor. Whimpering for her mother, she stepped in. And she saw.
Behind the corner of the big sofa, her mother lay sprawled on her side, one hand flung out, fingers spread wide. Her soft skin was wet with blood. So much blood. The white robe she'd worn was red with it, and ripped to ribbons. She couldn't scream, couldn't scream. Her eyes rounded and bulged in her head, her heart bumped painfully against her ribs, her throat swelling up so she could barely breathe. But she couldn't scream.
Then the monster crouched over her mother, the monster with claws red to the wrists, its body glowing a metallic blue, looked up. Its eyes were wild, shiny as the glass that sparkled on the floor. As it rose to its feet, she still didn't scream. But now she ran. The monster was real, the monster was coming, and she had to hide. She went straight to her closet, burrowing among the stuffed toys. There her mind hid as well.
She stared blindly at the door and barely heard the monster as it searched for her. Doors slammed like gunshots. The monster crashed through the house, a wild bull with blood on its horns. Stith, a doll among dolls, curled up tight and waited for her mother to wake her from a bad dream.
* * *
That's where Khalid found her. He might have overlooked her huddled in with all the pretty dolls. She didn't move, didn't make a sound. Her face was colorless, dominated by huge amber eyes. Her mother's eyes, he thought with grim pity. Eyes he'd looked into hundreds of times. Eyes he'd seen less than an hour ago and found filmed and lifeless.
The eyes of the rambunctious, fun-loving girl he loved to baby-sit looked at him, looked through him. Recognizing shock, he crouched down, resting his hands on his knees, rather than reaching for her. "Stith," he spoke quietly, kept his eyes on hers. "Do you remember me? Khalid? I'm not going to hurt you." She continued to stare, but he thought he caught a flicker in her eyes. Awareness, he told himself. She hears me.
"I'm here to take care of you now." When she didn't respond, he pulled out a few of the dolls and made comments about them. The way she watched him, eyes wide and terrifyingly blank, ripped at his heart. "You want to come out now?" He held out his hand and waited. Her hand lifted, like a puppet's on a string. Then, when the contact was made, she tumbled into his arms, shivering, with her face buried against his shoulder. He'd seen war, pain, and suffering for ten years, and still his heart ripped.
"There now, baby. You're okay. You'll be all right." He stroked a hand down her head, rocking her for a moment. "The monster's here," she whispered. Khalid checked his motion then, cradling her, got to his feet. "He's gone now." "Did you chase him away?" "He's gone." He glanced around the room, picked up a blanket, and wrapped it around her. "I had to hide. He was looking for me. I want Mama and Daddy." God. Dear God, was all he could think. He and the MPF (Mantrin Police Force) had found Stith's father just outside the front door, gun clutched tightly in hand, also dead.
At the sound of feet coming down the hall, Stith let out a low keening sound and tightened her grip around Khalid's neck. He murmured to her, patting her back as he moved toward the door. "Khalid, there's- You found her. MPF Detective Torlin studied the girl wrapped around him and raked his claws between his long ears. "There aren't any other living relatives, Khalid. You're the closest she has to a family now." Khalid nodded and looked down at her. "Stith, do you want to come to my house?" "Is Mama or Daddy there?" "No… But I think they would want you to go." "I'm sleepy…" "You go on to sleep, baby. Just close your eyes."
"She see anything?" Torlin murmured. "Yeah." Khalid stroked Stith's soft ears as her eyelids drooped shut. "Yeah, I think she saw too damn much. We can thank the Gods the Drej lost interest in her. Let's get her over to my house before the press gets wind of this."
By Kavick
This story takes place when Stith is seven years old, about the equivalent of a four year old human child, and explains where she got her attitude and her hatred for the Drej.
The night the Drej came, Stith heard the shouting in her sleep. It made her whimper and twist. She woke with a scream in her head, with the echo of it on the air. And wanted her mother. She climbed out of bed, her clawed feet silent on the floor. Rubbing her eyes, she wandered down the hallway where the light burned low. But the room with its big blue bed and pretty white flowers was empty. Her mother's scent was there, a comfort.
As she approached the stairs, she saw the lights were on downstairs. The front door was open, and the late-summer breeze fluttered her nightgown. She thought there might be company, and maybe there would be civa cakes. Quiet as a mouse, she crept down the stairs, holding her fingers to her beaklike mouth to stop a giggle. She peeked into the living room. The vases were broken, shattered on the wooden floor with their elegant and exotic flowers trampled and dying. The walls were splattered with red, and tables were overturned.
There was a terrible smell, one that seemed to paint the inside of Stith's throat with something vile and had her stomach rippling. She saw glass winking on the floor like scattered diamonds, and streaks of red across the floor. Whimpering for her mother, she stepped in. And she saw.
Behind the corner of the big sofa, her mother lay sprawled on her side, one hand flung out, fingers spread wide. Her soft skin was wet with blood. So much blood. The white robe she'd worn was red with it, and ripped to ribbons. She couldn't scream, couldn't scream. Her eyes rounded and bulged in her head, her heart bumped painfully against her ribs, her throat swelling up so she could barely breathe. But she couldn't scream.
Then the monster crouched over her mother, the monster with claws red to the wrists, its body glowing a metallic blue, looked up. Its eyes were wild, shiny as the glass that sparkled on the floor. As it rose to its feet, she still didn't scream. But now she ran. The monster was real, the monster was coming, and she had to hide. She went straight to her closet, burrowing among the stuffed toys. There her mind hid as well.
She stared blindly at the door and barely heard the monster as it searched for her. Doors slammed like gunshots. The monster crashed through the house, a wild bull with blood on its horns. Stith, a doll among dolls, curled up tight and waited for her mother to wake her from a bad dream.
* * *
That's where Khalid found her. He might have overlooked her huddled in with all the pretty dolls. She didn't move, didn't make a sound. Her face was colorless, dominated by huge amber eyes. Her mother's eyes, he thought with grim pity. Eyes he'd looked into hundreds of times. Eyes he'd seen less than an hour ago and found filmed and lifeless.
The eyes of the rambunctious, fun-loving girl he loved to baby-sit looked at him, looked through him. Recognizing shock, he crouched down, resting his hands on his knees, rather than reaching for her. "Stith," he spoke quietly, kept his eyes on hers. "Do you remember me? Khalid? I'm not going to hurt you." She continued to stare, but he thought he caught a flicker in her eyes. Awareness, he told himself. She hears me.
"I'm here to take care of you now." When she didn't respond, he pulled out a few of the dolls and made comments about them. The way she watched him, eyes wide and terrifyingly blank, ripped at his heart. "You want to come out now?" He held out his hand and waited. Her hand lifted, like a puppet's on a string. Then, when the contact was made, she tumbled into his arms, shivering, with her face buried against his shoulder. He'd seen war, pain, and suffering for ten years, and still his heart ripped.
"There now, baby. You're okay. You'll be all right." He stroked a hand down her head, rocking her for a moment. "The monster's here," she whispered. Khalid checked his motion then, cradling her, got to his feet. "He's gone now." "Did you chase him away?" "He's gone." He glanced around the room, picked up a blanket, and wrapped it around her. "I had to hide. He was looking for me. I want Mama and Daddy." God. Dear God, was all he could think. He and the MPF (Mantrin Police Force) had found Stith's father just outside the front door, gun clutched tightly in hand, also dead.
At the sound of feet coming down the hall, Stith let out a low keening sound and tightened her grip around Khalid's neck. He murmured to her, patting her back as he moved toward the door. "Khalid, there's- You found her. MPF Detective Torlin studied the girl wrapped around him and raked his claws between his long ears. "There aren't any other living relatives, Khalid. You're the closest she has to a family now." Khalid nodded and looked down at her. "Stith, do you want to come to my house?" "Is Mama or Daddy there?" "No… But I think they would want you to go." "I'm sleepy…" "You go on to sleep, baby. Just close your eyes."
"She see anything?" Torlin murmured. "Yeah." Khalid stroked Stith's soft ears as her eyelids drooped shut. "Yeah, I think she saw too damn much. We can thank the Gods the Drej lost interest in her. Let's get her over to my house before the press gets wind of this."