Chapter 9
A young girl, no more than seven years old, stood by a tall, thin man's side. Her long, black hair, which reached to the middle of her back, glistened in the sun's rays. She was only slightly taller than his knee, and her frail hand barely reached his, giving the appearance that the man was effortlessly holding her up. As they stood in the warm summer sun's rays, rich, old noblewomen would stop to admire the girl's adorable face, and comment on her beautiful blue eyes. She meekly smiled at them as they chatted with the man, her cheeks a constant rosy red.
But beneath the elegant white dress she wore were scars hidden away from the public. Scars that ran down the entire length of her back, some on her arms, and others on her legs. Scars that were created by the very man who held her hand now. The man she called father. Her father, a well-respected noble, was prone to staying at the local pub long into the night and coming home with the smell of alcohol still fresh on his breath. It was then that she would, "get in his way," or so he said. The nights usually ended with tears and a fresh scar marring her pale skin.
But, she loved him anyway. When he was sober, he was the nicest man in Tamriel, always complementing others and never raising his voice. No, the thing she hated was the alcohol that turned him into the vile beast that harmed her. Every time her father would begin to leave for the pub, she would cling to his vest, begging him not to go. Alas, he would merely take off the vest and leave it still clutched in her small hands as he walked out the door.
As the old noblewomen began to walk away, the girl's father jarred her out of her daze and they began the walk home. The town of Chorrol was beautiful at night, and the girl would often sit on the front steps and look at the stars. That evening, not a single cloud hung in the sky, meaning the view would be extraordinary. The girl stopped to gaze at the sky, wishing that time would fast forward so she could see the wonderful night immediately. The father, having noticed his daughter's hand had left his, kept on walking, only slightly turning his head and calling out to her. "Come on, Samara, we don't wanna be late for dinner, do we?" Samara quickly nodded her head and began to skip after him. "No, we don't!" she replied cheerfully.
By the time they got back, night had already fallen, and Samara was eager to finish dinner and take her place on the steps to gaze at the beautiful night sky. Breathing in the fresh air, the heavenly aroma of her mother's cooking filled her nostrils, and she eagerly ran in to eat, leaving her father still standing in the doorway, chuckling softly to himself. Her mother was in the kitchen, waiting for the ham to finish cooking. When she looked up and saw Samara's face, a gentle smile appeared on hers. She loved Samara as if she were the Imperial Dragon Crown, yet that didn't stop her from merely watching as Samara was beaten for a mistake she didn't do.
"It's about time you got back, Samara! I'm soooo hungry, but mama wouldn't let me eat till you and daddy got back!" Samara turned to glance at her little sister, Alma, who was sitting at the table, an exasperated look on her face. Samara merely chuckled at her sister's impatience as she took a seat next to her. Alma looked almost exactly like Samara and it wasn't uncommon for people to confuse the two for twins. The only way to tell them apart was by Alma's signature red dress, which she wore every day.
Dinner was always a joyous time for the family. Samara and her father would always tell each other jokes, provoking fits of laughter from the whole family except Alma, who would stare at the two of them with confusion, provoking even more and louder fits of laughter. When everyone had their fill of the delicious meal, everyone would go their separate ways, with Alma going to her room, father and mother cleaning the dishes, and Samara to her spot on the porch.
She was right in assuming that the stars would be beautiful that night. Every star that hung in the sky glittered like a single septim, painting an image in Samara's mind of some god-like entity dropping a bag of gold, creating the sight before her. Her stargazing was disturbed by shouts of anger and pain. She could tell it was coming from inside and the voices were familiar to her. They belonged to her mother and father. Already standing, she rushed in to see what was the matter.
She reached the living room only to see her mother cowering in the corner, fear and anger clearly in her eyes, a fresh bruise on her left eye. A figure was standing over her, its hands balled into fists. "You don't tell me what to do, you whore…" The voice was slurred but Samara knew at once who it belonged to. "Father…" She softly whispered. He whirled around at once, staggering slightly as he did so. "Samara? Wha… What are you still doing awake?" He could barely speak, and Samara could smell the alcohol on his breath from her place in the doorway.
She slowly began to walk towards him, and he towards her. She barely got close to him before he struck her across the face. She fell to the floor with a cry. Her father now loomed over her, glaring at her with anger. "You're supposed to be in bed! You miserable child, can't you do anything right?" He shouted this at the top of his lungs, causing Samara to flinch in fear. His voice was like a bear's roar, and it frightened her to the very core. Slowly lifting his leg, he delivered a swift kick into her abdomen, causing fresh tears to stream from her eyes. Her vision was beginning to cloud as she looked at her mother, who was still cowering in the corner.
When her vision was finally swallowed by darkness, she could hear a faint voice calling out to her. "The time for revenge has come. Awaken, my child." The voice was but a whisper, but she could hear it perfectly. Suddenly, she could see again, but something was different. She felt as if she was but a bystander in her own body, merely watching as she rose without her willing it. Her father looked at her with contempt, raising his hand to strike her once more. "You'll never learn, will you? Fine… Then I'll keep punishing you until you do!" His hand nearly reached her face when an unknown force prevented it from doing so.
Confusion crept into his eyes as he withdrew his arm. He slowly backed away from his daughter, muttering under his breath in disbelief. Samara watched as her body continued to act without her control. Whatever was in possession of her rose it's arm and to everyone's disbelief and horror, an empty wine bottle rose from the floor, rising to hover in front of Samara. Her father's eyes were now occupied by fear, and he stared in disbelief at his daughter. "What… What in the Nine are you?!" His voice quivered as he spoke. Samara, or rather the entity in possession of her, grinned at this.
With a single twitch of her hand, the bottle launched itself at her father. It collided with his forehead, shattering into small shards, some embedding themselves into his flesh. Small droplets of blood began to fall to the floor, lining the cracks in the wood. As he looked at his daughter in horror, blood began to seep into his eyes. Crimson tears began to cascade down his cheeks, and he now fell to the floor, sobbing violently. As he looked up, Samara began to slowly walk towards him, making barely a sound. His mind told him to move, but his body sat motionless on the floor.
As Samara watched in horror at what this being was doing to her father, tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She wanted to stop all this, to save her father, but no matter what she wanted, this being would not listen. It merely ignored her pleas and continued on with it's sadistic agenda. The demonic being now loomed over Samara's father, grinning like a madman. He now looked upon her with a look that would make most believe he was one of Sheogorath's demented worshipers. Suddenly, blinding pain engulfed his senses.
He could now feel as the tiny shards of glass that had lodged themselves in his forehead began to slowly cut through his flesh, traveling towards his brain. He could feel each agonizing slither, but it didn't matter. His mind was already destroyed. As the shards reached his skull, he looked up to his daughter, his eyes a faded blue. The last image he saw was the beautiful face of Samara, grinning like an imp, tears cascading down her cheeks from her eyes. His eyes. The glass shards finally pushed through the dense material of his skull and bore into his brain. He fell to the ground, blood beginning to seep from his ears.
The true Samara was now on the verge of insanity, and was shouting at the demon to leave. But, it didn't listen. "You cannot deny your true feelings. Banish all thoughts of love you still have for this wretched group you call a family. I will set you free from this shackled life. I will make you realize…" The voice said this with a loving tone, but it still filled Samara with fear. "Realize what?!" she shouted at the being, but no responsecame. Instead, the demonic entity turned towards Samara's mother.
"I will make you experience the most horrible of tortures. You could have stopped it all, but you hid away like a coward. You turned your back on your own flesh and blood, on your own child! I cannot forgive what you have done to MY child!" It was Samara's voice, but horribly distorted. Her mother now clung to a chair like a frightened animal, eyes wild with panic. Closing it's eyes, the vengeful entity began to speak in an ancient tongue. Samara's mother was confused, but soon a pain began to eat away at her. As time went by, it grew worse, spreading through out her body like a fire. No, it wasn't her body, but her very soul. Something was eating her soul! She began to scream, but to no avail. No amount of screaming would do her any good as the house was far away from the rest of the city. Soon, her screaming began to die down, and finally, she barely whimpered.
She could feel as the last of her soul was devoured, and a single tear slid down her cheek. "You will not rest. Your soul will forever be tortured in the void, where I will oversee it. It is what you deserve. A lifetime of torture for one who allowed it to happen to her daughter." The voice was cold and laced with venom. Samara watched as her mother's eyes slowly closed, and for a split second, she felt nothing but happiness. This quickly faded, however, when she realized that the demon was slowly walking towards the stairs that lead to Alma's room. At once she began to protest and beg the entity.
"Please, not Alma! She has never done anything to me! There is no reason to punish her… So please, please! Spare her…" For a moment the demon halted it's steps. Samara awaited in painful suspense for the voice to respond. "…Very well. But know this. She is a shackle, just like those two were. She will remain bound to you, hindering your progress. Is that what you really want?" "I don't care… Just please, let her live." As she spoke those words, she could feel as the demon left her body, and she began to regain control. Just when she finally was herself again, she turned to look at the horrifying sight before her. The blood-ridden bodies that were once her mother and father. She couldn't take it. Her vision faded and she collapsed to the floor.
Samara awoke with a shout, cold sweat covering her forehead. She looked around and realized that she was in the living quarters of the Sanctuary, Wesk still sleeping in the bed beside her. She slowly wiped her sweat covered face and sighed. A dream… No, a nightmare. She had relived it all… And this time, the voice was not a part of the dream. She could still hear it in her head, as clear as day. It whispered dark teachings into her ears, and she tried to block it out. But no matter how she tried, it would not leave. Samara's mind was starting to fail her, and she was losing the battle. She didn't know how long she could keep it up…
Suddenly, a dark cloaked figure broke into the room. "Quickly! Everyone to the main hall!" He shouted, making sure his voice was heard. Wesk began to stir from his dreams and looked over to see Samara, sitting on her bed with a exhausted look on her face. "What's the matter, didn't get enough sleep?" Samara glanced at him and quickly smiled. "Yeah, bad dream. But I'll be fine, don't worry. We should get going, though. You heard that guy." Wesk nodded and quickly leapt off his bed. Lifting Samara onto his back, the pair silently began to walk towards the main hall.
