Giver33
No one said a damned word to me for the first two hours we made camp inside our cave. The rain poured down so hard that I tugged the donkey into the cave and refused to put her out again. Moon didn't seem pleased with her dark surroundings, but once I shoved a bit of food I'd found earlier into her face, she tolerated the situation.
She seemed to accept her fate better than I did. Each passing moment frustrated me, brought me closer and closer to inevitable anger. Already I felt it burning inside of my heart, charring my insides as everyone went about their business while I sat like a dumb beast. They had no idea that they ignored a musical genius. Later, as they sat and talked amongst themselves, I would show them what they had overlooked: Ugly, grotesque…a mere shell of flesh on the outside that masked the true beauty within. I would show them I was worthy of their attention—and of their praise. I would show them. I would show all of them.
"Don't put your hands in front of the fire for too long," The Shadow warned as I sat with my fingers outstretched, stroking the heat. Gusts of chilled air battled a wall of fiery warmth and failed to brush my flesh. I felt as though I had entered a cocoon of warmth, made untouchable by the fire I had built. "You'll burn the sensitivity from your fingertips."
"I won't," I answered glumly.
"What is it?" he questioned, crouching down beside me. He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You're very quiet. It's not like you to sit idle for long. Would you care to tell me what troubles you?"
"Nothing," I answered, though I wanted to tell him it was everything.
"I see. You don't want to tell me, is that it?"
I made the mistake of looking past him at the children who were laughing together. A girl around my age caught me staring and immediately looked away. I felt ashamed, but I didn't look away.
"Talk to them," he said.
"Why?" I asked. Why won't they speak to me, I wanted to question. Why must they look past me as if I'm not here? But I knew the answer already.
My uncle forced me to my feet and introduced me to the children around my age, but no one looked in my direction or offered a smile. It was as though I wasn't merely scarred and masked; I was invisible, undeserving of acknowledgement by the total strangers who needed our shelter.
No one cared that my parents had supposedly died in a fire while saving me. No one cared that they'd perished and a child with half a face survived. No one cared if I sat beside the fire and waited for someone to look at me and realize I was human. No one thought of me as human. I wasn't really there.
The situation had worsened. Now they were fully aware of me but they still refused to see me. I could feel them avoid me at all costs, carefully walking around me. The girl poured salt on the floor, a precious commodity lost to her superstition of evil not crossing the line she'd made to protect herself.
I wanted to cry out. The pain of rejection threatened to make me physically ill.
The oldest in their tribe of vagrants pulled my uncle aside and voiced his concerns for their arrangements in the cave. He glanced at his younger sister, his eyes hooded and wary.
"Is the dog tame?" he questioned, eyeing Girl with suspicion.
"She's not my dog," my uncle replied. He looked at me and Girl as we sat together in silence. Her head rested on my knee, her eyes shut and body at ease. I loved her most in those moments of trust when she could sleep with her head on me. It amazed me that an animal, that anything at all in the world, could rest beside me. Deep inside I felt turbulent and uneasy.
The man frowned. "It just follows you?"
"No, not me. I don't think she much cares if I'm around or not." He gestured toward me and smiled. "It's his dog. As I've said, this is my nephew Erik. The dog listens only to him. He has a way with animals, a very unique gift, indeed."
The man didn't glance in my direction. "I think it's best that you tie him up. I worry for my sister's wellbeing while we travel and I would hate for something to happen to her while we share your company."
"Her. It's a she-dog," my uncle corrected. "He calls her Girl, and she's quite gentle, I assure you. I know she's not much to look at, but she's a good dog."
The man paused, but he didn't look at Girl. "We have a bit of spare rope with us." He trained his gaze just above my head. It was then that I realized he wasn't referring to the dog.
I bolted to my feet and Girl growled, startled by my sudden movement. "Don't let him do it," I begged, hurling myself to my uncle's side. "Don't, please don't."
He put his hand on my shoulder. "She's tamed and very well trained," my uncle said firmly. "And I watch over the boy. You've no need to fear."
He remained unconvinced, his arms crossed and his expression like stone. With a grunt, he turned away as though he couldn't bear to look at me a moment longer, although he'd barely looked at me in the first place.
My uncle shifted his weight, clearly uneasy with the situation, but unwilling to resort to a direct confrontation. "We want no trouble. In a day or two we'll be on a train, as long as the weather holds and we're able to travel. Please, for all of our sakes, let's just share the space and the warmth."
"What have you to lose?" the man mumbled.
"Pardon me?"
"I said what do you have to lose?"
"I didn't realize this was competition."
The man stared at him for a moment. Behind him, the rest of his vagrant family members had taken interest in the conversation, their eyes large, expressions filled with anticipation.
I didn't want it to come to this, to raised voices and possible violence. I'd experienced enough in my lifetime and wanted nothing more to do with it. All I wanted was to sit around the fire, play the violin, and pretend I was only a boy. Being pulled from the pack and scrutinized for my shortcomings made me acutely aware that I didn't belong here or anywhere.
"With all due respect—"
There was no respect, at least not for me. I bolted from the cave, heedless of the rain and the cold. All I could think to do was run, run until I could no longer breathe, run until the darkness swallowed me up. Ashamed, angered, bewildered…I couldn't decide what I felt.
Before I had gained much ground, I tripped over a fallen branch and slammed face-first into the ground. The mask covering my scars slipped. Fabric ripped, and hot tears mixed with the cold rain upon my cheeks.
Little by little, I became aware of physical pain. My knees and hands were scraped raw, my face bruised and tender from the impact with rocks and wood. The rain whipped me, tore at my back. It soaked through my clothes and dripped down my sides, down healed wounds I swore I felt opening again. I was nothing but a beaten dog cast out in the rain, an animal no one wanted to look at.
On bloodied knees and scraped hands, I crawled into the darkness, my cries of anguish muffled by the mud caking my teeth and tongue. I wondered if I'd freeze to death or fall off an unseen ledge of rock. I wondered if I could escape the world I hated, the world that hated me.
Teeth clamped down on my pant leg and a low growl followed me. Wolves, I thought. A pack had found me. Without the energy or desire to fight them, I lay still and buried my face in my arms. My only hope was that they killed me swiftly. I didn't care if they dismembered me and fed me to their pups.
The beast sniffed at my legs and up my back until its wet nose pressed to the exposed flesh of my neck. I stiffened, braced myself for the vice of jaws to rip into my spine and tear me apart.
Suddenly, I wasn't at all prepared for a pack of wolves to feast on my carcass. I didn't want anyone or anything to devour me. I feared death, feared what I imagined was an absolute darkness worse than the life I'd known before.
"Get away!" I shouted, springing to my knees, arms flailing around in desperation.
Girl dashed away in surprise, then doubled back and jumped on me, knocking me to the muddy earth once more. She whined and licked at my face and hair, her paws holding me down like a mother dog tending its pup.
In the darkness I grasped hold of her wet fur and buried my face in her warm, wet coat. I wept against her, wishing she hadn't found me, but eternally grateful of her boundless loyalty. She licked my face, my hideous face, and nuzzled me with affection I would never find in human form. I was certain that no matter how long I lived, no one would treat me as she did that night, unafraid of weather or danger. She came and found me.
"I don't want to return," I said stubbornly.
She didn't force me to move. She sat beside me, her head against mine, waiting for my command.
"I want to run away from here," I told her. "I want to go…"
But I had no intended destination, no way of finding a new home. No one would take me in, and I wasn't yet prepared to lie and steal in order to sustain myself. I needed something, someone, and I knew who it was: My uncle, who was alone in the cave with those terrible, wandering fools.
"He needs us," I said.
Girl stood and wagged her rump, thankful that I'd come to my senses. She led me back to the cave where my uncle stood at the mouth and waited for me. He merely looked at me when I slunk back inside, my head bowed.
I thought perhaps this time I would go unnoticed, but gasps followed my arrival. I took my place in the rear of the cave where the shadows remained deep but the air still warmed by the fire. My stomach growled, though I had no desire to near the fire. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my dog. It was for the best.
"My God," one of them said as I turned away and felt the familiar sting of tears in my eyes. There would be no violin playing, no moment of proving them wrong. Even if I'd wanted to play, my fingers had gone painfully numb from the cold and my hands were stiff and swollen from my fall. Disgraced and disgusting, I held my breath and waited for the urge to sob to finally pass.
In between breaths, the man's words echoed through the cave.
"He's completely mad."