Blood, sand and ice-chilling screams. I haven't had a full night sleep since I left home those years ago. I prefer to sleep alone. Knowing there's people around just makes the nightmares worse, as if every sleeping person is another added scream in my dream. The memories of the war visit me every night, along with the people I hurt and killed. Faceless men, women and children that hunt me down, tearing my limbs apart whilst yelling for me to spare them. Revenge from the dead, clear-cut and raw. Which God that decided this war is certainly no god of mine, not anymore.

The stars are still glistening in the sky when I wake up. In the east I can see the faintness of pink on the horizon and I decided that the quest for sleep is over, until next night at least. A short distance away I see the sleeping bodies of my fellow members, all circled around the now put-out fire. They really should be more careful, something stupid like falling asleep in the open will get them killed one day. Going to sleep and not waking up again, another mess for me to deal with.

I carefully climbed down from the oak, not wanting to wake the others from their drunken slumber just yet. I wanted some time alone before starting the day properly. The wind was just a slight breeze, earthy to the smell and just strong enough to make the leaves rustle. The calmest hour of the day, when there was no one awake except for me and the forest. I could, even if just for a moment, forget the memories of war and be nothing but another whisper in the wind.

As the sun climbed higher and my surrounding began to stir, my thoughts of nothingness travelled to the sheriff's new assistant. I had never met him, yet my insides twisted as I tried to picture him. The man who was suppose to be my husband, but now thinks me dead.

After I had returned from war, I found my father where I left him, by the fire in his chair, a glass of wine in his hand. He greeted me without sparing me a glance. My deeds in the war had served the king well, and my father reaped the profits from it. New gold in his chamber and old wine in his cellar. I could tell he was pleased, but how much I couldn't be sure, as his mood turned as fast as the wind.

'Hello father.' I said, my voice trembling slightly and my heart beating hard and loud. 'Hello Robert.' He replied with a low murmur, his eyes still on the fire, raising his glass for more wine. Silently I grabbed the bottle and began to refill his glass, my movements timid and careful. Even though I had faced death and destruction in the east, it was nothing to the dread I felt for my father.

Why he chose to call me by my dead brother's name, I could not tell, but I didn't have the strength to argue with him.

'How are you, father?' was the question out of my mouth, even though I couldn't have cared less about his wellbeing.

He sipped the newly poured wine and gazed into the fire. I wasn't sure that he had heard me, but didn't feel the urge to repeat my question.

He was quiet for so long, yet I couldn't bear it to utter a word. Instead I poured myself a glass of wine and drained it in deep gulps. Anything to release me just a smidgen from this reality I was trapped in.

One glass turned into five, thanks to the servants who had stocked the table with several bottles from different years. I didn't care anymore, not about my father or anybody else. Why should I behave and act properly when they did not care in the least?

'So, how the estate running?' I finally asked him, my words a little slurred, but still intelligent enough to be understood. Father still had the same glass of wine in his hand, probably luke-warm now, I thought gleefully, as it's not the right temperature for wine, however that mattered in this situation, I have no idea.

He barely stirred at my question and it took him over a minute to actually answer me.

'It's been poorly ever since your sister died and the marriage with Lord Gisborne fell through.' He put the glass down and stood up, careful not to look at me more than necessary. 'Tell me, dear son, why have you shown your face to me, when you know I despise the sight of you?'

I took a step back at the question. No matter how much I wanted reality to disappear, I couldn't forget it. Did he honestly think I was Robert, that I, I mean, Marion, were dead?

'You must be mistaken, father.' I told him, my mind sobering by the second. 'You must be confused….'

Before I could say more, he started to shake his head vehemently, his response almost un-intelligent by laughter.

'Don't you think I remember my own son?' His voice was hoarse and deep, enhanced by the wine. 'You think I don't remember the day I sent you away to the crusades? The very same day you murdered your flesh and blood?' His voice had risen so much he was almost shouting at me. 'How dare you show your face before me? When you have ruined our family and estate?'

He started towards me, his brow furrowed in anger and his fist raised as if to strike. As I backed away from him, I felt my mind racing to all possible conclusions to his delissions. What kind of reaction could this possibly be? What had transpired in his mind to concoct these thoughts and memories?

'You must be wrong, father.. ' I said, trying again to find my voice. 'I'm not Robert. I'm Marian, your daughter! Don't you remember? Please say you reme…'

Then I felt his hand making contact with my chin. My head felt like it had a thousand bells in it as it hit the stone floor. My vision turned black and my mind, already affected by the wine, exploded with a cascade of stars.

As if somebody else controlled my body, I felt myself standing up, slipping on invisible slipperiness on the floor before finding grip enough to run to the door and disappear out into the hallway, dark in the night, not yet lighted by the servants. My brothers name, 'Robert', was all that was in my head, as I ran and ran, not finding my way in the familiar hallways, forgotten were the memories of them, now just a labyrinth of turns and stairs.

'Robert, I'm Robert'

'My name is Robert, Robert of Locksley'

Hundreds, no, thousand of times, those words echoes in my head before I finally found the door to freedom and fresh cold air hit my face and I finally disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

I am Robert