Chapter Four
Memories
Always remember others may hate you but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself
Splash!
Water. Lots of it. It bombarded her, suffocated her, she felt a stinging sensation, another slash.
Leslie was swimming, she felt water. No - she was drowning, she had to get to the top. She couldn't, her clothes felt, so heavy, her head, it ached terrible. She heard the frantic yelps of P.T from farther and farther away. She wasn't sure if he was moving away, or if it was her losing consciousness. Leslie waved her arms madly, desperately, clawing for anything, she could almost touch the surface. Just a little. No! There was something holding her. She kicked wildly to get free, but it was too late. She felt the vile water disseminate her lungs. She felt life leave her. She couldn't breath, she screamed but no sound came out. Blue turned to black.
"Would all prisoners line up against the wall, you will be escorted to the Dark Kingdom to be branded. Be dignified, you are his elite, the goblins will lead the way."
You are a little boy, cowering in a line of all different shapes and sizes. There were men, woman, dwarfs, trolls. You are dismayed to find no one even remotely close to your age. The chains round your hands nearly topple you over. You grit your teeth, they are ice cold on your skin, you watch your hands go from red to blue, and back again. The sirens blare callously in the background, goblins scurrying like rats across the open fields, dragging trees and other greenery. Entranced, you follow one tree, it seemed to be desperately holding onto the ground – its home.
Your heart was in your mouth, vicariously in pain, the event was torturous. You look along the line of battered and bruised creatures, their faces placid, stoic. Apathy. You hear it before you see. The tree had finally lost its battle. A pair of goblins muttered obscenities as they lifted the tree, their hands poisoned chalices. You stare, transfixed at the empty space the tree had left. It seemed morbid to look at it, indecent, naked. Only the roots remained, spurting out of the ground in anguish, having lost its soul mate, separated in an act of savagery. The trail that the tree left as it was dragged away, odd pieces of bark, a branch or two. You imagined they were breadcrumbs, that even now the tree was plotting a return, a redemption. You looked at the falling leafs, crying in the wind: an epitaph.
A goblin roared, swinging its whip at the line of demoralized creatures."Hurry up, you bunch of wasters!"
You try to dull out the whimpers and cries from the grown men. You don't like to hear them cry. It made you feel unsettled, nervous. You wanted to go home. You were tired, hungry, the man in front of you smelled. The air was dirty, polluted; the scenery naked without trees. You wanted your father, your friends.
A particularly frail man buckled under the punishment of the whip.
"What the hell are you doing! Get moving, you're holding back the line. If you slack off, we'll ask the master to have your funeral!" The goblin was foaming at the mouth as he relentless tortured the man, his cries were drowned out in the dirt he had collapsed into. You tried to block it out, selfishly wanting them to disappear, you couldn't stomach it.
"It's him, it's the Key Monster!"
You jumped, startled, the awe and reverie in the men's voices surrounding you made you look. You couldn't see much in the polluted air; it made your eyes sting, but you knew one thing. One thing in the mass of sweaty bodies, the sheer dichotomy of life... and pain.
You wanted to run away, fast.
Tugging on the chain precipitously, you tried to look innocent, leaning casually on the wall nearest you. The chains were made for men twice your size, it wasn't impossible. You wriggled your arms, biting your lip to avoid the dreaded sound of apprehension. You tugged again, forcefully, the smelly man in front you cursed, you stopped.
You heard the man's breathing slow, the air seemed to leave the area. The line stopped suddenly, it felt like time itself had stopped. The Key Master was there, he was walking alone the outskirts of the line, obviously assessing them first hand. A goblin ran hurriedly behind him, scrambling notes down onto a dishevelled piece of scroll that matched his attire. You began to shake, the Key Master was walking quickly, he'd be looking right at you soon.
Another goblin ran through the endless line of creatures, nearly meeting his end at the hands of a troll's stomp. The goblin, breathless, knelt before the Key Master, who looked infallible, eyes never leaving the line as he continued his inspection.
The kneeling goblin, remembering himself, ran after the Key Master.
"Master, we have began the symbol engraving ceremony, these new batch of warriors should be read-"
"Do you think me a fool?"
The goblin was startled, the smelly man beside you twitched anxiously.
"No, no, of course-"
The Key Master turned swiftly, grabbing the goblin by the throat, lifting him from the ground. It was as if he'd known the exact place the goblin had been without even turning. He continued walking down the line as he strangled the goblin, whose gargles of asphyxiation making even the staunchest dwarf pale.
"Do not waste my time." The Key Master dropped the goblin like a broken toy, muttering "fool".
You had no idea if the goblin was dead, the note taker stepped uneasily over it, following his Master, but keeping out of arm's reach.
"I'll kill you!" An old gray haired man ran with a speed that belied his ageing body. The line of men gasped with the audacity of the stunt, the Key Master didn't flinch. His gaze travelled lazily towards the running man. The man suddenly bent over in pain, clutching his head, you noticed a bright mark on his forehead.
The Key Master gave no sign of emotion as the old man writhed in front of him. You did noticed that his hand seemed to be moving under his robe; the old man's forehead was glowing, a strange mark.
The Key Master continued walking. "This stock seems to be a bit off. He's already been marked, I trust you know what to do with him, or do I have to kill you for your incompetence."
The goblin gulped, not daring to speak, merely nodding his head, carrying the man away, barely managing.
You began to feel nauseous, he was getting closer, it was inevitable, you hadn't done anything wrong, yet you couldn't shake the fear that the Key Master had killed people for much less than nothing.
You didn't know what possessed you, you weren't exactly thinking any longer. The sight of the old man, being carried away, still screaming, eyes rolled back, drooling, convulsing. Being treated like cattle... you ran.
You heard goblins shout exclamations, you ignored them, only knowing one thing: run! Your chains seemed to melt before you, the men in the line cheered at the sight of you, seeing this as a practical joke. Mutterings from the guards floated to your ears, something was getting closer. This was a bad idea, you had – your feet were swiped from under you; face landing heavily on the ground, spitting dirt. A whip collided with your back, you screamed, but your mouth barely opened before it came crashing down again. You didn't feel pain, but the shock of everything was terrifying.
"Stop!"
You heard voices, but were too dazed to make it out. You were sure you heard further screams, you spat out the dirt from the ground, content to sleep there and then. Eventually, the ground moved away, you realized you were flying, no being carried. Eyes closed, only the pollution corrupting your nostrils was enough to make you remain conscious. You felt for what was supporting you, the grip was solid, uncompromising, it felt cold against your skin.
You were placed back on the wall, back in the line, one of the cattle. It took everything you had not to melt to the ground. A voice commanded you to look up... it wasn't one someone said no to. It was the Key Master, his eyes were wide, captivating, they seemed to be trying to dedicate every part of you to memory. His snake like nostrils flared, dagger-like teeth gleamed luminously, a sudden image of a crocodile, lethargic, but ready to pounce sprung to your mind. He was the crocodile.
"There probably is no point in living... other than power."
You waited for the chains to be put back, they never came.
"But perhaps, by living, we can grow stronger, and make them feel the pain you felt. Maybe we can find interesting things, like how I found you."
A goblin was cowering before you, too afraid to kneel properly, he was shaking, praying for forgiveness.
"This is the insect that hurt you, would you join me, grow stronger, make him pay?"
"...I just wanna go home, please." You could feel yourself fading, your vision was slightly off. The constant throbbing of your back after every heartbeat was excruciating, only exacerbated by leaning on the wall, the rock rubbing against the wounded, bleeding flesh. You averted your gaze, afraid at what he might do, subconsciously protecting your forehead.
"...Home," the Key Master muttered, emotionless.
You looked up, he had disappeared. The goblin was still praying beneath you, stuck in a trance of terror that could never be quenched, you winced as you stepped on his urine. Fresh cries of agony was heard from upfront, the line began to move again.
You were again a little boy, sitting in some sort of cave, a cave with no exit. The rough, ragged stone walls, covered with a substance that looked eerily like blood, towered over you. Yet, you did not feel fear. These walls had been all you had ever known for so long. Your home, your world.
Despite this, you couldn't help but feel... it was something you couldn't describe. The cave was draped in shadows, holding you back from the light. Your eyes had adjusted to it long ago, not much else had.
Not much sound travelled into the cave. You were stupid after all, and didn't really understand what sound was exactly. You imagined it was something like tiny bees, so tiny you couldn't even see them, travelling into people's ears, talking to them.
No one talked to you.
The main activity of your day was listening to the dripping of water from the right corner of your wall. It was the only source of life in this purgatory. It was constant. Forever. The never ending dripping. If you closed your eyes, not that you needed to, you imagined that the dripping was matched by your very own heartbeat. They were joined, connected together; it was a nice feeling – not being alone.
It was a times like these that you wondered. Why? Why you? You didn't really believe there was a God, how could there be? Why would he put you in a place like this, had you done something wrong?
"Is there really a God?"
Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. It had been so long since you had uttered... anything. You suddenly grew self conscious, as if something in the walls was watching you closely. The silence in silence had been disrupted. You curled into a ball in the centre of the floor, feeling the blunted edges of stray stones pressing into your side. It was the only physical contact you'd had in years.
Your head rested on the latest letter from your father. He'd said that you were nearly ready, nearly complete. Although you didn't comprehend what he fully meant, at least it meant you could leave this place soon. You remembered vaguely what happiness felt like, playing with the other boys from your village. Terabithia. Your home. The thoughts kept you warm, although you couldn't help but feel slight pity for the cave. What would happen to it once you were gone? At least you had the prospect of leaving, it was stuck here forever. You held your hand out, feeling the edges of the mark that had been engraved into your skin. How long would the dripping last without you?
You were now slightly older, your forehead twinkled. You were sitting on a swing, deflated and lonely. The sky was strangely made out of rock, but otherwise it looked no different to a normal playground - except for the absence of life. Your chest hurt. Your eyes stung with a preening sharpness. You watched the other kids playing ball across the street; how you wished you could join. The fun filled laughter felt like taunting to your ears. You tried to swing, but couldn't muster any enthusiasm. What was the point? You were alone. The worst thing was, they didn't even just simply hate you, they feared you. You could almost stand being hated, but feared. No.
It hadn't worked out properly... this wasn't what it life was supposed to be like. Your father's letters had sounded so enticing, so full of promise. It had soon been quenched by reality. You lifted your hand towards your forehead, shielding it from view. The mark. The mark that condemned you, ostracised you. It symbolized your enslavement, you were now nothing more than a tool; branded, used. Your hand came crashing down on the mark. You looked at your hand... it was a satisfying red. You slapped it again, smiling grimly, this was your penance. As your hand continued to crash down on the mark, mercilessly, you imagined that it was vanishing, that when you looked in the mirror you wouldn't be different from the others. You wouldn't be alone.
The disgruntled cries of the children got your attention. Their ball had gotten stuck on a nearby roof, the game was over. Wait a minute! You almost fell out of your swing in excitement. You were a good climber, the building wasn't that big, surely it was attainable. Prove yourself to them. You couldn't contain your joy, your bubbling hope. This was your chance, your one opportunity to grasp happiness. You would have friends, they would play ball together until it was time for bed. Together.
The climb was long and relentless, but there you stood, on top of the roof, ball in hand victorious. The group of kids were too busy moping about the ball to notice. You climbed down and walked towards them, beaming from ear to ear.
Terror suddenly struck you, and you hesitated. Memories of past failures travelled through you, weakening you. You were terrified, you felt it in you heart. You could barely breath. This was a lot more never racking then in your dreams. The current of the wind usurped your hair, you combed it back, briefly touching your forehead. And your mark. Please don't run away. Please. Please. Please. Please.
"Here... ya go," you said shakily, hands unsteady, afraid you might drop the ball and embarrass yourself.
30 eyes snapped towards you. They all suddenly bulged, looking at your forehead.
"It's, It... is... him!" one of the boys managed, voice squeaking. It was filled with a fear only matched by yourself. Your heart was in your mouth, you bit your lip to stop yourself from trembling. They began to wearily tread away, never turning their back, but turning everything else.
"No, I was just returning the ball." You threw the ball at them, just the way the kids had done it when you had watched.
They jumped out of its path like it was a bomb."It's him, it's the freak, get help! He's trying to get us!"
"Oh Gods, no it's, it's him... the monster... RUN!!" They ran, crying for their lives, positive that they were doomed.
You held out your hand after them. Grasping for something that had always been out of your reach. "Wait... Don't leave me alone... please!"
They didn't listen, just continued running, further and further away. You felt your heart break, an uncontrollable sob shook you. Please.
Something inside you snapped. "I... I don't want to be left alone any more." Your hand closed into a fist, the boys suddenly stopped running, falling to the ground in pain. You instantly opened your hand, releasing them. Did you do that? Could you... make them hurt?
They gathered themselves and began running again, you followed desperately, begging for them to stop. You were too slow, you were always too slow.
"Stop it, I didn't mean, don't leave me!" You grabbed at the nearest boy in desperation, knocking him over in your haste.
"Get away from me. YOU FREAK!!" He clawed at your face, rabid. You held on like he was your life support, silent praying that this was all a nightmare, a sick joke. Please. The boy was tireless but your grip was firm. Looking up, you watched the others run, anger filled you.
A thought struck you as the boy you were holding broke free. They only stayed when...
"I don't want to be alone any more!!" Your fist closed, the boys fell, crying in agony. You walked over to the crumpled heaps, not sure how to act, but inordinately happy. You bent over them, humming soothingly, the way your mother used to, in your dreams; now there was only nightmares.
You tried to reason, tried to make them listen while they were immobile.
"Now we can be together, together forever." You rocked the boy nearest to you in your arms as he whimpered in pain. Cautiously, you released your fist, knowing they would surely listen now. They'd seen how nice you'd been, they'd be desperate to play with you now. The boy in your arms tested his limbs slightly, groaning. They looked at each other. Please. Your eyes met. You instantly felt a connection, a lov-
The boy spat in your face. You paused in shock, wiping your face. It burned. The boy pushed away from you.
"Quickly, we can lose him by the river!"
Your eyes glazed over, you tasted your rage."I won't be left alone." You closed both your fists, smirking devilishly. Blood erupted from the boys... but they weren't running any more. They were together, together forever.
"Artemis, stop!" Your father blocked the onslaught, wincing in pain. You instantly opened your fists in shock, eyes clearing.
"Father..." You stood there, in the mass of blood. Afraid that if you moved, it would all become real, like in your nightmares. Your father limped over to you. Would he ran away too? You collapsed onto the pavement, weighed down by your dark thoughts. You were bad, bad, bad. Alone, sick. That was it, you were sick, there was something wrong with you, if you could just get it fixed, you wouldn't be alone any more. Please.
"Let's go home."
You didn't answer, mesmerized by your hands, they were red, red with blood that wasn't your own. He carried you home.
Your father limped to the kitchen; preparing dinner. You stood there dumbly, feeling you didn't have the right to sit down. Your father had washed you vigorously under the sink... so why did you still feel so dirty?
The house was silent. The orange walls did not bring you warmth, they only seemed to emphasize your eternal loneliness. You noticed a knife on the table, your hand swarmed over it, gripping it tightly. Your face remained stoic as you studied the knife, it practically gleamed in the candle light, reflecting your face. Your mark. You pushed the knife forward into your forehead, all the while looking at a picture of your dead mother. She had blue eyes, blue eyes that reminded you of your tears.
Nothing, the knife stopped, an invisible barrier shattering it into tiny pieces.
You held the broken remnants of the knife in your hand, resigned."It's hopeless, no matter what, the powers interfere."
"Artemis," your father called gently from the doorway. He had his arms folded, eyes grim. You instantly dropped the knife.
He slowly and methodically walked over to you, picking up the knife. "Artemis," he repeated. "I am your father. I made a promise to protect you, and I will do everything to keep that promise. Please, don't do that again in my presence."
You nodded, even if it was fruitless. Your father smiled nonplussed. "Then again, your powers will protect you."
You felt like he'd just pierced you with his words, not that you knew how that felt like, not any more. You clutched your hands at your side – tense. You needed answers. "Why did I have to get them? It's not fair, it's not my fault. I didn't want this, I didn't want to be different, I just, I just..." You were almost begging, begging to life, no, to anyone for mercy, for a ray of hope.
"No, it isn't fair." Your father looked heartbroken, his voice was rough and filled with emotion that he could not communicate, not even to himself.
You watched him as he limped to the table, placing the broken knife carefully back in place. You were fixated on his leg.
"Father, I'm sorry."
He turned, shocked. He realized what you was staring at, waving off your concern.
"This, don't worry about it. I've had worse." He laughed slightly, but it was a sound foreign to your ears.
"Does it... did it... hurt?"
"As I said, it'll heal," he spoke seriously, a little flustered by your concern. He began preparing their sparse cutlery for their humble meal.
You remained standing."Hey, father... what does pain, what does it feel like?" You tried to make it sound nonchalant, a silly little question people asked as a joke... you didn't know what a joke was.
"Why would you want to know a thing like that?"
"Well, it's just, I've never felt it before, and... I was wondering."
Your father frowned, searching for the right words. "Well, I suppose I can try. It's, it's not nice, it stings and... and irritates. Erm, something like that, I'm not good at explaining something like that." He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.
He had confirmed your suspicions. "Does that mean you hate me, hate me like the others?" You couldn't even bare to look at him.
Your father knelt down so your eyes were level. "If there's one thing I know about pain: it's temporary. I don't hate you. People hurt each other all the time, but to hate something, no, that is truly difficult."
"Really?" you asked desperately, not daring to hope.
"Really." He patted your shoulder. It felt wonderful, like you weren't alone. You had an epiphany.
"I think I understand."
Your father shrugged you off in a polite manner. He was a busy man."Good, I'm pleased."
You didn't notice his subtle hint. "Maybe, maybe I'm hurt. Hurt like everyone else."
"But, Artemis, you can't..." he started, concerned.
"No, I... don't hurt like other people." You held your heart. "I always hurt here."
You continued to press against it, finding the words. "It doesn't bleed, but my chest really hurts, it hurts and it doesn't stop, it never stops."
Your father's face strengthened with resolve, he took one of the broken fragments and cut his finger. You gasped with surprise, not sure what was happening. It began to bleed. You looked away.
"Look, Artemis," your father's voice was soft but commanding. You looked.
"Pain like this, this flesh wound. They may bleed and seem painful... but they heal, whether by time or medicine. This, this cannot compare to the pain of the heart. It is the worst pain, no medicine can fix it, time does not stop it... only one thing can, and it is for someone else to give. "
You were enraptured, desperate to have the final mystery unveiled so you wouldn't be alone. "What is it, what is it?" you asked urgently.
"Love."
You blinked at him, repeating his words uncomprehending.
Your father continued soothingly, "Yes... love. Love from a person that cares about you, that would do anything for you."
I won't hurt any more if I get this,you thought jubilantly. But there was still a pressing question.
"How- How can I get this, where?" You looked around the room as if it would suddenly pop up on you, waving.
Your father was bewildered, he then broke into a grin. "Why, Artemis... You already have it."
"W-what how, I don't see anything." Had you missed it? No, you didn't feel any different, so how did you have it?
"Love cannot be seen. It can only be expressed by devoting yourself to someone else – protecting and caring for that person with your life."
You lowered your head, that was something you could never have. You voiced your thoughts.
"That's not true. I believe that your mother loved you. I think," he paused for a moment. "You remember the story of the 'endless war'?"
You nodded.
"The powers that you have, it has been passed down our people over the generations. Only a select few can be his weapon."
The rhetoric didn't appease you, it angered you. "Why did it have to be me, I don't want it, I don't want to kil-"
"I think your mother gave you it." Your father's gaze was strong, courageous... everything you weren't.
"-Huh, I don't understand?"
Your father looked at the ceiling, as if silently asking for inspiration. "I think these powers you have... I think your mother gave them to you, to protect you. I think she believed that you could do something great. These powers, they automatically protect you."
"Something great?"
"I think that was her last wish," he said with longing. "For you to be protected, protected through love. I believe that a mother's love is the strongest love, and that her love is your power. It's a nice thought, don't you think? She is still protecting you, even after death. Always."
Your father sounded upset despite his words, it made you sad. "I wish she wasn't... I wish I could've meet her."
"Your mother... had... faith in you, as I do."
You suddenly felt quite shy, blushing, you looked away. You weren't used to compliments, even from your father. A part of you was almost thankful that your mother was dead, so she wouldn't have to be disappointed in you. So she wouldn't run away. Your eyes fell on the picture of your mother. She was smiling, a perfect scenic backdrop of trees and sun. You disliked pictures, they seemed so superficial. Everyone was always smiling, happy and loved. It didn't seem real to you. You wanted something more.
"What did she look like, mother, I mean?"
Your father looked confused. "There are pictures, Art-"
"No, I want you to tell me, someone who knew her," you almost whined the last words, not sure how to put into words what you really wanted.
Your father sat down on the carpet, eyes reliving a long gone memory. You were slightly confused as to why he was receptive to you today. Usually he would have brushed you off delicately long ago.
"She, she was amazing. Brave, fearless, in fact a little too much for her own good." He began to chuckle.
You were hungry for more. "What do you mean?"
Your father stroked his beard, mulling over how to put it. He wanted to make this right, he needed to... for her. Her memory, all he had left. He stared at the ever smiling picture of his wife.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I and your mother first meet?"
"Nuta," you said, slightly accusingly, why had he never shared this trinket of information before? You felt like a vital part of your life had been denied from you until now. You were desperate and impatient to find it.
He made himself comfortable on the carpet, folding his legs."Well, you see, I didn't come from a very good background."
"You were bad?" you interrupted.
"No, no, nothing like that. Just a little rough around the edges. Anyway, there were these kids that liked to pick on me, I wasn't as... agile as the rest of them, or as brave."
"You were fat?" you interrupted.
Your father's eyes narrowed. "Maybe it would be best if you stayed quiet, at least until the end of the story," he said severely. You nodded, he continued.
"Anyway, one day, your mother was walking by when they were picking on me. There were about 5 of them, fully armed, yet she just stormed right up to them, getting in their faces. When we were kids, the 'it' thing to do was running. Everyone did it, those who were successful reaped the rewards. There was this big cliff, can't recall the name, kids used to dare each other to race to the edge. Whoever stopped first was the loser. These kids that picked on me prided themselves with being tough, your mother challenged the leader to a race."
"Really!"
Your father laughed. "Yeah, he wasn't very happy about it! Although all it took was for your mother to question his manhood, that soon fired him up! You should've-"
He looked at your bewildered expression at the word 'manhood'. He nervously waved it off, realizing it wasn't the best road to go down. "Anyway, moving on...Your mother could be pretty persuasive, let me tell you! So a crowd gathered. The ars- I mean boy, couldn't possible refuse without losing face. They raced, and your mother didn't stop," your father stopped, smiling, enjoying the suspense
"What!" You felt like you were on the edge of the cliff with them.
"Yeah, just jumped right off the edge. The guys just stared dumbly, by that time a really big crowd had appeared, word spreads fast in Terabithia you know, their reputation was destroyed, your mother was now the bravest."
"What happened to Mummy?" you asked, with a concern that made it seem like the event was happening right now.
He began to laugh again, rubbing his head."Yeah, I told you she was reckless. Nearly died in the fall, couldn't walk properly for a month, went straight to hospital. The doctors couldn't believe she wasn't dead, she just kept on saying 'I have a very hard head'. I remember visiting her in the hospital, I was less than impressed by her stunt. Told her she was an idiot, could've been killed. There was a big fight, I left pretty quickly."
"But how..." You were thoroughly appalled. Weren't mums and dads supposed to love each other?
"Erm, I dunno, I was young. Probably felt a bit emasculated, er, I mean embarrassed at being defended by a girl," he quickly added, noticing her confused glance. He really needed help with this talking thing, a coaching module to talk to kids would be a start!
"Your mother was quite determined to walk a bit earlier than in a month. I watched her struggling here one day, I helped her up despite her protests and carried her back to the hospital. I still have the scars." He pointed to his back, giving a mock-grimace.
"So, naturally she wasn't best pleased. Said she hated me for making her life miserable. I then, politely, asked her again why she did it when she hated me so much. That was the first time I'd ever seen your mum lost for words. She sorta muttered something about not being able to stand watching those guys picking on me, and that I was worth a thousand of them. She then asked me why I helped her. It was my turn to blush, I said something terrible corny about how I kind of admired her for standing up to those idiots, and that, I wished I could be that brave someday." Your father had a far away look in his eyes.
"One thing lead to another; the doctors thought I was suffocating her, and the police came to 'escort' me down to the station."
You were in tears from the laughter.
"And in 6 months, we got married in the very same station. How your mother managed that I'll never know, but she had her ways."
A warm glow filled the room, you smiled at each other as you ate. You felt content in your own skin for one of the only times in your life.
You glanced at the broken knife."Thanks for stopping me," you said reverently, hoping to convey your true feelings. He shrugged it off.
"No problem – I... have to protect you as well, remember."
You sat at the table and finished eating. You could hear the boys out playing again, your heart filled with an insatiable longing that never seemed to stop, only fade at times.
You spoke bluntly,"Why do they hate me?"
Your father looked up from his plate, regretting leaving the window open."They don't hate you, they just... don't understand you, you have to make them."
"How?" It seemed you would only ever have questions, never answers.
"That's something only you can decide." The gleaming glow of peace abandoned the room, you felt cold. You looked at the picture of your smiling - dead - mother.
"What if you're wrong... about mummy. What if I am alone."
"You have me."
You looked at him, disappointed."You're only one person."
"Sometimes that's all you need, that one person. That's all we need, each other."
You nodded, finally decided. You would be strong, not for yourself, but for your father, and... if she was out there, your mother.
You practically skipped to your future friend's house, jubilant. You had a plan, a peace offering. You would make a friend, bring him to your father, he would be impressed. You stopped at his door, nerves were unremitting now, but you were determined to tame it like a wild animal.
You knocked, the boy answered. "Igotyouthis, erm, sorry, I mean, I got you this, I hear it's good." You wanted to slap yourself, great first impression, you thought sarcastically
It was a first aid kit, you'd been paying attention to your father's speech on pain. You felt you had a good grasp on it now. The boy stared at it, then at you, sizing it up. Please.
He opened his hand to accept the gift, you almost slammed it into him in your excitement.
"Th...anks," he said, gasping from the weight. Maybe you'd gotten too much?
He went inside to put down the gift. You just stood at the door dumbly, not sure what you were expected to do. You hadn't planned this far ahead. Would he even come back? Did you have to come back with more gifts?
You heard voices from inside, the boy came back, looking uncomfortable. "So... I dunno, do you wanna – play, or something?"
You tried to say yes, but it came out as more of a squeak. You blushed profusely before mumbling an affirmative.
"Do you wanna get the rest of the guys?" He had his hands in his pockets, not looking directly at you.
"Yes," you almost yelled. He looked like a deer in headlights, but at least he understood. A success. You could've screamed. It was the happiest day of your life... and the last.
It was wonderful. You had to pinch yourself several times to believe this was really happening. There had been a few awkward moments at first, when they had invited Mirak's – you discovered that that was the boy's name - other friends to play. Their look of initial befuddlement turning into a reluctant acceptance was a reoccurring theme throughout the many doorsteps.
You found yourself in the middle of an intense game of ball. It was a nice intense. The sort that was limited to a friendly, but still competitive rivalry. You actually grew concerned that your face might crack from the smiling, but you had friends, you weren't alone. Who cared? If your face stayed like this forever, you could live with it. You felt like a photo. Later on, you bought a camera and everyone crowded round you, smiling. The perfect photo. So this what all the fuss was about! For that one moment, they were defying time, that moment, captured by a photo, would live forever. It was their way of saying 'hey, look at me, I existed, I lived'. Someone had cared enough about you to immortalize you in a photo. You felt dizzy with joy. It was an addiction you never wanted to give up.
Eventually they started a game of tag. To everyone's astonishment, you had no qualms about being 'it'. You focused on Mirak, chasing him into the woods. They played for a while, but eventually even young children needed rest. They had gotten separated from the others, but you didn't care too much. You had been alone for so long, even one person was sufficient now. They sat down on the bountiful grass, wild and untamed.
You studied your surroundings, Mirak watched, curious of your reaction.
"This is the oldest part of Terabithia."
"Really?" It didn't look like much in your eyes. Sure it was serene, but so was Terabithia in general. They were a faint rattling in the distance, it sounded like cages.
"What's that?" You pointed at an old wooden building, a tree-house. Had the boys made it?
"Dunno, it's been here for ages."
They sat in content silence for a time. The boy looked around conspiratorially.
"Say, erm, how about we play another game?"
"Sure," you chorused.
"Okay, let's play dare, do you want to play dare?"
"I do, I do" she squealed, she'd never heard of dare before, but it sounded fun.
"Okay, then... I dare you to go into the 'Forest of the Pines' and pick a flower."
"Sure." It sounded simple enough.
You sat up, brushing yourself off, walking into the large pine forest. The first thing you noticed was how dark it was. The trees were so dark, it reminded you of your cave, no light could enter this place. You expected to hear the buzzing of insects, or at least some sign of life. There was nothing. Just the swaying of the trees, you thought it was crazy, but they almost seemed to be communicating. The silence was unnerving, the stillness. The trees were so thick at the top, the masked the sky. No low bush or grass could grow in the darkness. So the ground was carpeted with golden needles. You felt like the place was haunted.
Despite this, the sound of a rattling noise made you jump. You'd never heard anything like it before, you couldn't possible describe it. Recklessly, you tried to find the sound. You noticed a strange sort of carriage, at least it looked like a carriage. It had four wheels, and seemed to be smoking. Fragments of glass were scattered across the grass. You hid behind a fallen tree.
You inhaled sharply as you watched a bloodied young man stumble out of the smoking carriage. The strange noise had stopped, but the twinkling of a key ornament endured.
A strange creature that seemed familiar to you stepped out of the shadows, no it was the shadows. "Pity, I had hoped my new container would be undamaged."
The bloodied man fell to his knees, defeated. "It's, it's you!"
The shadow walked forward, undeterred. "You know what happens now."
The man began to wail pathetically, he crawled towards the shadow, dignity lost."Just, please, don't hurt my family!"
"Very well." The shadow smirked at the man's blabbering. "Oh, don't worry. You won't lose everything, you'll still be able to feel one thing: pain."
The man's agonized screams followed you as you ran.
You were disappointed to note that Mirak hadn't waited for you, still, you reasoned that it was probably past his bed time. You even began to convince yourself that what you saw was a dream. Nothing could possible dampen your mood, it was a dream. It was.
You hopped home, humming a catchy cheerful tune. It took you hours to get to sleep. How could you possibly sleep at a time like this? This was the most alive you'd ever felt, you weren't alone any more.
You didn't sleep very long either. You had friends now, you didn't have time for that useless commodity.
You rushed to Mirak's house, relieved to find that it was still standing. You still weren't alone. You chirped happily on the door. You had to control your frenzied energy, it would be embarrassing for your friends if they saw you bouncing on their front door.
The door opened, Mirak appeared, he was frowning.
"Hi, want to play? I'm sorry about the game yesterday," you said warmly, unperturbed.
"What are you doing here?" He looked genuinely confused at you.
"But, eh, we're friends, remember, yesterday, it was fun." Please.
"He said you'd be dead." The disappoint in his voice killed you.
"I, I, but we're friends. I don't understand," you stuttered.
"Friends with a monster who kills?" He spat the word, revolted at the sigh of her.
"But, I thought, I didn't hurt-"
The boy slammed the door in your face, you could hear faint shouts of hateful words through the door. You felt numb, detached, like you'd been ripped from your body and forced to watch. You wept.
You let your tears fall freely as you walked, you had no idea where you were walking to, you just knew that you had to, or it would all be real.
You began running, wild, desperate. The tears blinded you; you collided into heavy object, aimlessly, feeling nothing, as always.
"Why!" you screamed at the world, righteous anger. You hit everything in your sight, hoping you could destroy the world, let it feel the pain you felt. Why, why, why!
You felt something collide with your back, toppling you over. You landed on the concrete, winded. You turned to look at your attacker, he kicked you sharply in the face, wiping any hope of a smile from it forever.
He continued kicking you relentless, you covered up, cowering.
"I'm going to kill you, kill you for all the people you killed, monster."
Your ears were ringing, but you heard perfectly. The same rage you'd felt before erupted in you again.
You anticipated and dodged the next kick, and then you were all anger, taking out all your frustration. You literally threw your limbs at the attacker recklessly, not caring about your own well being. Just knowing that you needed to hurt this person, educate him, make him feel your pain, your loneliness. You felt good, you were good at this, hitting areas that made him cry out repeatedly. You didn't know how you knew, you didn't care, as long as you had this man's life in your hands... you weren't alone.
You heard a satisfying snap of broken bones; he pushed himself off you. Limping down the street, into the shadows, he didn't cower frightened, he sat peacefully on the ground, as if he were setting his death bed.
You suddenly felt scared. There was red on your hands again, you didn't like that colour, and why was the man limping when you hadn't hit him there? His breathing started to become shallow and infrequent, he looked like he was going to sleep. His breathing sounded hoarse. You squirmed uncomfortable, afraid to run, and afraid to stay. You approached him, he was wearing a mask, he couldn't go to sleep in that, you reasoned, ludicrously.
You uncovered the mask, it was your... your father.
No, you looked away, then back again. This wasn't right, you were dreaming of course. This wasn't supposed to happen. You began to weep again, this was wrong, you slapped the ground in frustration, attacking life again, you pulled your hair, shook your head. No, no, no, no. "I don't, I don't understand, why, why did you?"
"Why are you crying for me, Artemis?" The voice was slow, and in pain. You felt dizzy, you collapsed in front of him, begging for forgiveness, hoping for a hug, to be wrapped in his arms. Please.
"I thought you were an... I didn't know." You wailed into his bloodied shirt, his blood. You wanted to vomit.
"I...was...ordered. I bring a message." The words were separated by long straggling breaths. He didn't respond to your touch.
"Message?" you whimpered inside his shirt, hoping for comfort, anything.
"No one loves you, you are alone."
You cried in his shirt, begging for him to stop, to get up, to carry you home. Hope gave you an olive branch. Your last...
"But, you said, but you were ordered, so, you didn't want to-"
These were a dying man's last words. "I wanted to, oh, I've wanted to for so long. There was always a constant battle inside my heart. I saw you as my precious son, but also the monster who killed my wife with your first breath," he paused, coughing blood that landed on your face.
"She did not wish for your birth, she was selected for this task. You are illegitimate, a scar on the families' name. That is my scar, that is my pain that won't heal, Artemis. You were born out of hate. I wish you would die, why can't you just die?"
"No, no, no, no," you repeated it over and over again.
"You were born as a weapon, Artemis. That is all you are, all you ever will be. People don't change, they just get tired. Your destiny has been set out in front of you."
It was painful for him to speak, but he wanted to leave one last message of his own."Artemis, I... hate... you." And then he was dead. Gone forever. And then you were alone. Forever.
You wept and wailed into his shirt, now covered with blood. You thought you heard him speak again, but it was footsteps coming from afar. You didn't look up, still clinging to the last shreds of your father's warmth, savouring it, bottling it up.
"Do you feel pain?" the voice asked. It wasn't an olive branch, it was death. You continued weeping into your father's shirt. Your dead father. Your dead mother. Alone.
"Your emotions, your love has made you into this. Do you think this is strength?" The voice was closer now, dripping with persuasion.
It whispered,"Do you want to be strong?"
You looked up sniffing, you locked eyes with what would become known as the Dark Master. You nodded.
"Then come with me."
As you walked, almost blindly, following his voice, you heard someone receive an order. "Burn Terabithia, burn it to the ground."