Origins :: Runaway

An alarm clock woke her up off her stained mattress. It vibrated the nightstand it laid on. She had a purse with around ten thousand euros in it that she used to rent out a place in a run down area of France. Her plan was not to stay in Europe for too long as Zakhaev told her to head to America. Exhaustion and jet lag lingered ever close in her mind.

The man Zakhaev arranged to have her fly to France had left her an hour ago now that his job was done and Eden had an apartment. He had no clue what happened to Zakhaev as Eden did not feel like talking about. Due to the events that transpired to drive her from Mongolia, she was in the country illegally.

She stood herself up, smacking the top of the alarm clock, shutting it up for good. It was three o'clock in the morning and dew was still collecting outside. Learning the area was something she had done all of yesterday. She could not speak a lick of French but there were enough English speakers around the area that she did not have to rely on her poor Latin skills to decipher French words.

She looked at her pager and flip phone lying on the ground. She wanted to call her brothers and tell them all that happened, tell them that Zakhaev was dead and she did nothing to stop it. Her hand reached out for the cellphone so she could call one of them.

Her thumb punched in the buttons, her ears greeted with the faint monotone tones corresponding to each button. She had put in the full number that would allow her to talk to her oldest brother, James. The number stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, her thumb hovering over the green phone icon.

The number disappeared and the phone went back to sleep. She waited too long. Eden closed her eyes then stared out the window of her small rental room. There was a streetlight shining a brilliant orange through the flower petal curtains. She turned back and looked at her nightstand, turning on its light.

She could see her beauty, the one Zakhaev told her to embrace, behind all the wear and tear she carried around in her blue-green eyes. There were faint bags underneath her eyes and her skin looked a little malnourished.

After a quick shower session in her closet of a bathroom and freshening up in the sink next to her nightstand, she threw on a red blouse and some yoga pants, fastening on her shoes. She straightened out her unkempt wavy hair and stretched her body around, hearing the crack of bones.

She looked into the mirror again, this time looking far more presentable than she did. Anyone could see that she was clearly struggling with something internally, but she was far more approachable. She took her cellphone and kept five hundred euros in her purse and set the rest under her mattress, next to her duffel bag containing her combat suit.

She opened up her door, her running shoes only making noise when the wooden floorboard creaked under her one hundred nine pound body. She walked herself down the stairwell at the end of the hallway and left her motel. Where she was headed it did not matter. Her mind needed to get back in order, it was too violent for her liking.

The stone streets were a nice chill compared to the cold of the Mongolian mountains. Her eyes traced the disorderly yet elegantly placed lines that formed the shapes of these stone dwellings. Architecture was one thing among others like music or engineering that she found an affinity for in her time in the Garden. Her hands traced the buildings' forms as if she was drawing the world around her.

A bittersweet smile graced her face. She added embellishments to her liking, blending the gruff geometric shapes of the storefronts and their organic decors with color palettes of vivid blue, pink, and green. Trees were erected in the dead center of the roads, splitting them in two with some roadways becoming even impossible to drive through.

People were drawn walking and talking about, touring the world she had created. They waved their hands, smiling and greeting her with warm welcomes. They respected her, even more so than those who governed this town she so designed. Her name was known throughout the city and everyone respected the authority she had. There were children living their childhood to the fullest, drawing with chalk on the sidewalks and roadways, and running around after their mothers and or fathers.

In the parlor, which was teeming with life and good vibes, she saw a little girl blowing out the candles to a birthday cake. She was surrounded by friends and family, who had strung up decorations and festivities to her heart's desire.

There was not a single person in view with a frown on their face. One of the children in his apparent teens ran up to her. From her peripheral vision she could see the joy in his eyes, and it made her almost laugh.

"Eden!" The woman kept drawing, eliciting a hum to let him know she was listening. "What brings you to this part of town?"

"I'm just staying in town for a couple days. I'm headed to America." He let out a chuckle.

"America..." His voice lingered in the air indicating a sense of awe and dream. She nodded her head. It was how she felt about the country too. The Land of the Free, as it was called. She did not mind Europe at all, it was quite pleasant here. "You think it'll be better there?"

Odd question… The kid spoke as if he was not in a state of bliss. A genuine question of wonder. What was there to wonder about when you were living in the most lavish of cities? A utopia where everyone accepted each other for who they were and everyone knew each other like they knew the back of their hand.

"Maybe there's a chance for you there yet..."

She turned to the kid with a look of concern on her face. What did he just say? She turned her head back to what she had finished, only to see that it was all gone, replaced with the darkness of night and ominous stark orange street lamps, back to this abnormal normalcy she found herself in. A sigh escaped her lips. Her energy escaped with the breath of air that left her.

The fog thickened as the sun began to rise over the horizon. The town began to feel more and more not her own the more she thought about it. To say there was a chance would imply that she had been without hope. The hope that she would find what she had been missing, what she had been robbed of as a child and once more as a young adult… A family and a place to call her home. She was a free spirit who wanted the world but was denied the chance to even make the attempt.

A sudden urge overcame her right there and then, one that manifested itself first when she was being trafficked. A rebellious verve overtook her. It balled up in her throat and she just wanted to scream it out, to fight whatever figure of authority responsible for the life she found herself walking. She looked to the sky, hoping to find God or any being of the sort playing her life a pawn and lashing out at them in anger. Tears poured from her gentle green eyes. She wanted revenge, but to her, it was as if she was punching air. Maybe there is a chance for you yet...

"What is the problem, young lady?" She heard a voice, craning her head to face its owner. A frail old man in his apparent seventies wearing a leather Breton hat and a thick tan leather jacket. He had his keys out and looked to have been going inside the house when he saw her.

"I… I don't speak French, sorry." She responded in bad French.

"English?" He asked in a thick French accent. Eden felt like running away, but continued nonetheless.

"Yes sir."

"What's wrong?" He asked again.

"Nothing I..." She turned away from him, and attempted to walk away but he called out for her again.

"Sure does not look like it. Come on." Eden rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her mind screamed for her to just run away, but her legs began moving towards him. The closer she got, the more she felt like breaking down and crying. He invited her to sit down on the steps leading into his apartment, he too sitting next to her.

"What's wrong?" He asked again for the third time.

"I don't wanna' talk about it." She said, her voice quivering. He let out an inaudible chuckle.

"But you sat down with me… I think you should get it off your chest." His voice was gruff yet mellow. She closed her eyes, her tears becoming an ocean on the stone steps of this lonely road she found herself walking in the dead of morning. Her mouth moved to form words but she could not speak, shaking her head instead.

It was burned into her vision and it made her so mad. A cloud of his blood flowed through the air as gently as he spoke. Zakhaev's death was the summary of the years of torment and anguish she experienced before he found her out in the desert.

"They killed him..." She said through her sobs. The man's eyes widened. He knew of many gangs around town and no go areas. He moved to get and get a phone to call the police but she stopped him, wiping her eyes. "No… you don't understand."

Even she did not understand. Why would anyone even think of harming such a great man like him? "What?" He asked with a look of confusion on his face. Her sobbing stopped and her frowning face picked up until it appeared despondent.

"The Chinese killed him." There were so many things on her mind that she could not form into words.

"Take a deep breath."

She did as told, her mind becoming a little less fuzzy. Her eyes were red from tears and her cheeks were flushed with her blood. "He was like a father to me. He found me out alone in the desert and showed me kindness." The man kept silent, she was coming around. Her face scrunched up. "And they killed him..." He hugged her, taking her in. "It's not fair." She whimpered.

The two stayed like that for a long while, until she began again and her tears started to dry up. The two had moved inside where a few bags made themselves a hallway from the entrance and the man had made for her a cup of hot chocolate for which she thanked the man. He was supposed to sleep an hour ago, but this kid sitting in front of her got his full attention.

She told him of how insignificant her life was until Zakhaev found her. The way she spoke of the man, by all accounts he was a saint. In all the years the man walked the Earth, he had only met a few individuals with the dedication to humanity he possessed. She was a refugee seeking refuge in the West.

"Well Eden." He said with a sigh. "Let me tell you something about me… Maybe you can learn from it." He took off his leather hat and set it on the wooden table. "I've lived in this area for my entire life. This area… is not good. When I was… Twenty, twenty one…" He paused for a moment, gulping as he thought back on the memory. It was a tough one that he had to cope with, but he did nevertheless. "-You see, when I was born, my father walked out on us and so I became the- the master… the man of the house. My mother forced me to get a job before I could finish school so I could support my baby brother.

One night, my brother took money from the wrong people… He wanted to help me out." He shook his head, his jaws clenching as he looked at Eden's half finished drink, sitting in its pristine white coffee cup. He wished the memory was slightly warmer, like the drink settled in its container. "Six guys came into the house while I was at work and killed my mother and then him for trying to protect her."

He looked into her eyes and she could see the hurt which was relatable: loss. But even deeper than that, she saw it. Vengeance. "I bought a gun the next morning and loaded it with seven shots, one for all the men that robbed us, robbed me of them. One for myself. I could not imagine a life without my mother and brother and I was ready to end it.

But as I went to give them a piece of my mind, a police officer stopped me. He said 'What is it you're doing? Don't you know they will bury you before you even get to shoot? You want justice?' I nodded my head ready to kill those men but he just shook his head. 'No. You want vengeance. Well I will tell you this. Your vengeance is bittersweet. Killing those men won't bring your family back.' Still… I shot those men dead and shot myself." He pulled back the collar on his shirt, revealing a scar that trailed up his jaw. "I went to prison for five, six years… I was suicidal. Then that officer… He offered me another way. That was when I became a police officer, so that no one in this town should ever feel what I felt." He let out a sigh. "Well… What do I mean by this? I see it in your eyes. You are angry." That was an understatement. He shook his head. "Your anger is misplaced my dear. You have every right to want revenge for what they did to him. Especially since he was a modern day saint to you. But revenge is bittersweet. The pain of what you lost will still cover your eyes up until you figure out that revenge will not help you cope. Just as my brother and mother became a part of me, your father will become a part of you. And I see in your eyes you don't realize it yet, but what he did for you, you will want to do for others."

She was to become a saint? A protector of the innocent, a repairer of the broken like he was? Never... not in this state.

"You said he wanted you to head to America?" He chuckled a bit, changing the mood a little. "Funny thing is that I'm headed there today. That is what those bags are for. Los Angeles actually… You should get some rest, Eden. Then we'll pick up your stuff from your apartment and be on our way."

Los Angeles

The two had arrived in America some hours ago and were fatigued as all hell. The man she now knew as Mister Shanel had moved in with his younger cousin's daughter for a few days. She was married and lived a relatively good life and held a good job. He bought out an apartment for Eden on the other side of the town. He wanted her to stay with them for a while however.

She sat down staring at her dinner. There was an entrée of meatloaf, as much buttered garlic bread as one could have in a lifetime, and stylized tomato sauce. This woman's two sons were both ready to dig into their dish of pasta, meatloaf, and vegetables. They were twelve and fifteen respectively, and as expected had the patience of such children. Jonathan, the younger, and Aaron were their names. Shanel scolded the two for their impatience when it came to food.

Eden watched Daniel come in with Adele, who had wiped her hands clean of the mess she made while cooking for them. They all sat down at the table and prepared for their familial communion. Mister Shanel, being the oldest person in the house, said his grace before everyone dined on their food.

It was pleasing to her, to be part of something she had been robbed of for so long once more. After her older brother James went away to college, these types of gatherings seemed to evade her. And whoever invaded the Garden made sure to put an end to that. The thought of it sparked those same violent, recurring feeling to linger in her mind.

She let out an inaudible sigh as she picked up her toasted garlic bread in the sauce, and crunching down on it. The taste was a buttery-savory but with the sweetness of the bread to compliment it. It was quite enjoyable, the texture being a tad bit different than the naan bread she was used to baking.

Her saliva drew some trails from the bread. It was sticky when slightly damp. It was odd, practicing good table etiquette without Zakhaev there to harp on her. She wanted to ask if she was doing good, but remembered he was dead. Her lips wrapped over her teeth as she pushed back the thought until this dinner was over.

There was a glass of adulterated wine standing next to her. She had never before consumed wine with alcohol and so this was a new experience, despite it being dialed down to almost nonalcoholic levels. She took a sip of it, there being a slight tinge where her heart was beating. The drink itself tasted splendid, but the immediate effects were less than satisfactory. She took the knife and cut into the meatloaf but her ears were drawn to the sound of her name.

It was Mister Shanel. She picked her head up, staring at him looking for answers to a question she did not ask. "Eden. Mind introducing yourself to eh… Adele?" She nodded her head, laying down her knife. A smile crossed her face as she met the brown eyes of this woman.

"My name's Eden, ma'am." Despite being from China and Mongolia, her accent sounded rather City-Southern.

"Well Eden, where're you from?"

She could feel them coming, the questions that would eventually lead to her having to think about it again. "Mongolia..." That was a lie no matter how she looked at it. Being on the border did not make her a citizen, but she frequented the many villages surrounding the Garden, and truthfully, she was born in China. At least that was what she was told.

"What's it like there?" Daniel asked. Eden shrugged, not knowing where to start.

"Nice place. I lived up in the mountains. The sun there was breathtaking... So far I have yet to see a sunrise or sunset as beautiful as the ones I saw there." He nodded his head. He could relate to the nostalgia that the natural beauty of one's home brought.

"I feel ya'. Lived in the rural parts of Texas and I can tell you. There ain't nothing as beautiful as a natural sunrise." She smiled at that. Eden had seen many pictures of the beautiful green expanses that America had to offer. The wife changed the topic.

"How old did you say you were?" She asked.

"Twenty one…" It was a lie. Her voice was just a tad bit softer than usual and Mister Shanel could read it. He knew the truth about her upbringing, about how terrible it was and the sufferings she endured. She never mentioned it to anyone, but there was a very soft, almost invisible strangulation scar around her neck as a reminder of her turmoiled life.

"Do you have any colleges in mind?" Eden shook her head, a gentle smile at the thought. She was insanely smart, at least that was what Zakhaev told her, especially in the field of what he called 'practical engineering'. But college was the last thing on her mind right now.

"No. Too much going on in my life… I-" She shook her head. "It's the last thing on my mind right now." Adele nodded in an empathic understanding. "If I went to college though, I'd probably major in mechanical engineering… maybe law and become a police officer too," She reasoned, sparing a quick glance at Shanel. He let out a soft chuckle.

"I'm in that boat completely." Daniel said. "Did not go to college. Decided to try and make my own business instead."

"What's it in?"

"Welding. We do all sorts of jobs from underwater to high atmosphere." He said with a smile on his face. "Plan to expand the business from Cali to across the nation. We've bought out some offices in Arizona..." Eden nodded her head. She knew a thing or two about welding as she had welded things in the Garden. "I also own a dojo on the side but my wife runs that one."

That got her interested. A dojo? Eden knew of the many martial arts, but never bothered learning them. She was far above adept at the fighting style Zakhaev taught her, which was meant to be used with swords. "A dojo? Like a martial arts dojo." He nodded, seeing her delight at something she knew like the back of the hand.

"I can tell you love martial arts?" She nodded her head.

"A lot. It was one of the few fun things I did in Mongolia." This was very true. Eden enjoyed engineering things together, cooking, and making songs, but all of them paled in comparison to the thrill a good sword fight brought her. She was good enough to best even her own master a number of times at his own fighting style. The only thing that rivalled the experience was flying at high speeds and altitudes with her all terrain combat suit. "Mostly swordplay."

"What belt level?" Eden turned her head to a new voice. It was one of the children, he seemed eager to know yet cautious to ask. Eden shook her head.

"We didn't use belt levels. Our instructor had his own art."

"Do you know Taekwondo?" He asked. She shook her head, not in the slightest. The kid made a slight frown face. A smile crossed the girl's face. That was how the night went, the kids asking her a bunch of martial art questions given that they were black belts in Taekwondo, and the grownups occasionally butting into their conversation from their own to ask more questions. It felt good.

Eden had grown to be almost like an older sister to the two boys, proving herself to be a great help around the house. She even managed to keep the boys from getting themselves into trouble by entertaining them. A week had passed and Mister Shanel finished his job in Los Angeles, going back to Europe. Eden inherited the apartment he had rented out for her.

She was preparing to move out, having her bags packed and ready to go. They had her number in case they ever wanted to talk to her, which she expected the kids no doubt would.

Her feet touched the carpeted mat as steam poured out of the bathroom. It was her last day in this house and so she would cherish it. She turned on the lights where the sinks were situated and lathered herself up. Her hair was still a tad bit damp, but it looked well done otherwise. That was when she heard it. A slight rustle coming from her room not too far down the hallway. She quickly threw on a fresh T-shirt and some short shorts and gently walked to her room.

She turned the corner to see the boys pulling her jian from her travel suitcase.

"Hey!"

The boys dropped the sword, it clanging against the wooden floor. "We're sorry." Aaron said, attempting to drag his younger brother out of the room. Eden blocked the doorway with a less than satisfactory look on her face. There was a nervous energy radiating from their faces as they gave cautious smiles. Finally, she decided to let them pass, shaking her head. A sigh escaped her lips as she put the sword back in her travel bag, staring at her folded up combat suit.

It took her out of the comfort zone created by the presence of this family and back into the dark spots of her mind. She pulled free her phone and forced herself to dial her eldest brother's phone number. Hearing the sound of the phone paging brought tears to eyes. Her feelings of anger pushed her away from the new family she found through Mister Shanel. She did not want to hurt them like how she was going to do James. He picked up his phone and she began to speak.

"Hey James? Yeah it's me… Eden." She could hear his voice on the phone. It was a delight to her ears, giving her a brief relief from her thoughts. The reflection of the sky which her Jian was staring at hit her eyes, causing her to tear up. The sword, which she refused to leave behind, was a symbol of her pain and anguish.

"What's wrong?" It took her a minute or two, and James could tell the girl on the other end was breaking down.

"He's dead… Zakhaev's-" She shook her head. "I can't- I'm sorry." Eden pressed the red button on her cellphone, canceling the ongoing call. James tried calling her back, but she refused to pick up. She reached into her travel bag and pulled the cross Zakhaev gave her, staring it down with seething teeth and a flushed face. Once more, she sat in her lonesome, bottling up her emotions.