Angel Tears
Chapter 4 - Blind Child
Now I look back on my first meeting with Edward, I realised what a naïve person I was: perhaps the years alone had got to me - I don't know. Seeing him turn slowly towards me, the first movement in the silent garden, I froze to the spot. It sounds so silly saying it now - I had nothing to fear. Then it was as in a nightmare. I hadn't known what to expect, but my mind had not prepared me for what I saw.
It was one of those moments where you remember everything, like how everyone can remember where they were the day someone important dies, or when there is a momentous occasion on television. Though the parts in- between were a blur, I remembered the Angel, and Edward in every detail and I suppose I will never be able to forget.
I suppose the first thing I noticed was his height, yes that was it. He uncoiled from the ground, the black clothes hiding his true size until he was standing fully upright - a good 4 inches taller than myself. He had been deceptively small from the ground, and now I realised that if it came down to a confrontation I would definitely come off worse. I was suddenly aware of the pain in my ankle, and the beads of sweat on my face.
Staring down at the ground as he loomed over me, I dared to glance up and looked into eyes that were so dark as to seem not there at all. The whites of the eye were simple highlights to the enormous pupils, the dark circles round the eyes making them seem to blend effortlessly with the extraordinarily pale skin. The skin was so smooth and white, bearing no marks of age, yet hundreds of scars criss-crossed his face. Bleached of all colour, they made him look like a corpse -a victim of some terrible murder perhaps. His face destroyed any assumption that this was a tall child - it was the face of a man, ageless and somehow horrifying in its expressionless gaze. It was hard to see whether he was looking at me at all, the eyes did not show direction or emotion at first, but then he moved, quick and sudden.
Again, my first reaction was that this was a threat of some kind. I should have trusted Jonathan and known I was in no danger. Edward reached out, and I saw his hands for the first time. Blades of all sizes brushed my arm. His hands were jerry-rigged from what seemed like a random assortment of tools. Two of the fingers were knives, and the index finger had been fashioned out of a pair of large household scissors. I remember thinking "We had a pair of those back home." The little finger was a smaller pair of scissors, the lower blade moving down as his arm arced forward, the blades resting lightly on my shaking arm. Yes, I was afraid.
"Please."
His voice was barely a whisper, as if it hadn't been used for years. I didn't have time to think about what he wanted however, my brain went into overdrive.
Edward stepped forward, and as if in a dance I found myself stumbling backwards at the same pace. Then I realised that with those blades so close to my arm it wasn't such a good idea and stood as still as I could, my arms shaking and sweat running down the back of my neck. That was probably one of the smartest things I did that day.
Edward came closer, slowly, his hand reached out as if in a peace gesture. When he got close enough that I could see every detail of his face, the scars pulling taught as an expression of puzzlement flickered over his features, the skin stretching like a mask. He stood like that for a long time. Then he decided to continue, and again I heard that raspy voice, this time I could feel his breath, colder than anything living should be.
"How much time?"
I didn't have a clue what he meant. I suppose I was expecting something like: "What the hell are you doing in my garden!" and that would have been a perfectly normal thing for him to say - I was trespassing. This was not, however a normal person. He wasn't human, even I could grasp that much. Human-like but with a few differences, which explained why people had chased him back to the mansion. The blades felt even more heavy on my arm, and I felt obliged to give an answer.
"I-I don't understand."
He thought about this for a moment, then as if he had only just noticed, he withdrew his arm and put it by his side as if ashamed, and I saw concern in his face. I must have looked terrified.
"I'm sorry."
He meant it. He stopped again, and I realised that Edward hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, not since.well I doubted if he wanted to talk about that.
"How much time.since I came home?"
I realised that he wanted to know the year. So I found myself co-operating, delighting in my new-found usefulness.
"When did you come home?"
"Nineteen seventy.eight."
"Well, that means you have been here for over twenty years."
Edward looked at the floor, the scissors blades on his left hand snipped quickly, as if in agitation.
"Too long."
I had to agree. Living on my own for so long had done weird stuff to me. This was a whole new league of isolation and one that I couldn't begin to understand. I tried to continue the conversation, trying anything to break the clinging silence.
"My name is Mike. Please tell me what happened.how this came to be."
"M-Mike."
Edward tried out the name, his mouth stumbling over the unfamiliar word. He took a deep breath (I later found this was out of habit rather than necessity) and told me of his life - how his "father" (and Jonathan's father, I realised I would have to tell him soon) had created him from the many machines in his factory. I realised the cavernous room in the front of the mansion must be the factory, and my fears about that dark place were reduced. He told me of how his father had died before he could have his hands. Here he faltered, and I could see the staring on his face. I realised that his body was trying to cry, but the dark eyes had no tears to give.
"I destroyed them. My hands.I can only destroy: that's what he said."
I was startled by this, and interrupted him, the words tumbling out before I realised I didn't have the whole picture:
"Your father said that to you?"
"No. A boy, a long time ago."
Then he told me of his journey to the outside world, how he had left with the Avon Lady Peg, how she had adopted him and cared for him: and about Kim - That part seemed the most painful. He stopped frequently, but always found the strength to carry on. I waited, my mind struggling to cope with the information. During the pauses, I thought again about Jonathan, and how he had to watch without interfering. My admiration and anger grew - how could life be so unfair. This may sound arrogant, but I think in those moments I was for the first time truly selfless. I cared only for Edward, Jonathan and Kim, and their torturous fate.
As the last words of his story were lost in the mist of the garden, I looked up (I had looked at my feet in shame or anger, possibly both) and realised that tears were streaming down my face. Suddenly humiliated at this display of emotion - especially that which Edward himself was denied: I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Through the haze of tears I noticed darting shapes behind Edward, flitting through the trees and coming in close as if to touch, then whisking away.
I rubbed my eyes again, and peered closely at the bushes. I had a sinking feeling I knew what those shapes were. Edward noticed my reaction with increasing puzzlement. Keeping his arms firmly by his sides, he turned to look behind him, and again at me. Child-like confusion distorting his adult features.
I did not know what to tell him. I knew what the shapes were, but the strange thing about them was the way they behaved. From their colour, I could see they were spirits, much like Gareth and the children in my room. They were blue in colour (what I could see of them) and they were not solid, though sometimes they swirled close together and became less transparent.
They had seen me looking at them, and came closer, their eyes lighting up with delight. Edward continued to look right at them, but he saw nothing. Many of the spirits embraced him, some cried misty tears, others shouted with joy, their voices whispers on the air. I realised that these other spirits had stayed with Edward all these years, watching over him though his eyes were blind to them. So much pain and suffering, - no one could be heard - and no one could do anything about it - except maybe me. In that moment I felt a surge of power unlike anything I had felt before, my heart grew and emotion filled me up until I felt I could no longer speak for fear my soul would be released, it was so close to the surface.
The spirits crowded closer, Edward, following the movements of my eyes turned around constantly, the spirits trying to get his attention but failing, their desperate cries all forming on single plea:
"Tell him, tell him we are here!"
I realised that the moment had come, I had to tell Edward my reason for being here. He had never asked - maybe he took my presence for granted. Now I had to tell him everything, and when I was done, he wouldn't be so alone any more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry again for the late update! (I seem to spend many of these A/N's grovelling.) Please tell me what you think, constructive criticism welcome. ^_^ Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, much appreciated!
~Kuja7Dax1~
Chapter 4 - Blind Child
Now I look back on my first meeting with Edward, I realised what a naïve person I was: perhaps the years alone had got to me - I don't know. Seeing him turn slowly towards me, the first movement in the silent garden, I froze to the spot. It sounds so silly saying it now - I had nothing to fear. Then it was as in a nightmare. I hadn't known what to expect, but my mind had not prepared me for what I saw.
It was one of those moments where you remember everything, like how everyone can remember where they were the day someone important dies, or when there is a momentous occasion on television. Though the parts in- between were a blur, I remembered the Angel, and Edward in every detail and I suppose I will never be able to forget.
I suppose the first thing I noticed was his height, yes that was it. He uncoiled from the ground, the black clothes hiding his true size until he was standing fully upright - a good 4 inches taller than myself. He had been deceptively small from the ground, and now I realised that if it came down to a confrontation I would definitely come off worse. I was suddenly aware of the pain in my ankle, and the beads of sweat on my face.
Staring down at the ground as he loomed over me, I dared to glance up and looked into eyes that were so dark as to seem not there at all. The whites of the eye were simple highlights to the enormous pupils, the dark circles round the eyes making them seem to blend effortlessly with the extraordinarily pale skin. The skin was so smooth and white, bearing no marks of age, yet hundreds of scars criss-crossed his face. Bleached of all colour, they made him look like a corpse -a victim of some terrible murder perhaps. His face destroyed any assumption that this was a tall child - it was the face of a man, ageless and somehow horrifying in its expressionless gaze. It was hard to see whether he was looking at me at all, the eyes did not show direction or emotion at first, but then he moved, quick and sudden.
Again, my first reaction was that this was a threat of some kind. I should have trusted Jonathan and known I was in no danger. Edward reached out, and I saw his hands for the first time. Blades of all sizes brushed my arm. His hands were jerry-rigged from what seemed like a random assortment of tools. Two of the fingers were knives, and the index finger had been fashioned out of a pair of large household scissors. I remember thinking "We had a pair of those back home." The little finger was a smaller pair of scissors, the lower blade moving down as his arm arced forward, the blades resting lightly on my shaking arm. Yes, I was afraid.
"Please."
His voice was barely a whisper, as if it hadn't been used for years. I didn't have time to think about what he wanted however, my brain went into overdrive.
Edward stepped forward, and as if in a dance I found myself stumbling backwards at the same pace. Then I realised that with those blades so close to my arm it wasn't such a good idea and stood as still as I could, my arms shaking and sweat running down the back of my neck. That was probably one of the smartest things I did that day.
Edward came closer, slowly, his hand reached out as if in a peace gesture. When he got close enough that I could see every detail of his face, the scars pulling taught as an expression of puzzlement flickered over his features, the skin stretching like a mask. He stood like that for a long time. Then he decided to continue, and again I heard that raspy voice, this time I could feel his breath, colder than anything living should be.
"How much time?"
I didn't have a clue what he meant. I suppose I was expecting something like: "What the hell are you doing in my garden!" and that would have been a perfectly normal thing for him to say - I was trespassing. This was not, however a normal person. He wasn't human, even I could grasp that much. Human-like but with a few differences, which explained why people had chased him back to the mansion. The blades felt even more heavy on my arm, and I felt obliged to give an answer.
"I-I don't understand."
He thought about this for a moment, then as if he had only just noticed, he withdrew his arm and put it by his side as if ashamed, and I saw concern in his face. I must have looked terrified.
"I'm sorry."
He meant it. He stopped again, and I realised that Edward hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, not since.well I doubted if he wanted to talk about that.
"How much time.since I came home?"
I realised that he wanted to know the year. So I found myself co-operating, delighting in my new-found usefulness.
"When did you come home?"
"Nineteen seventy.eight."
"Well, that means you have been here for over twenty years."
Edward looked at the floor, the scissors blades on his left hand snipped quickly, as if in agitation.
"Too long."
I had to agree. Living on my own for so long had done weird stuff to me. This was a whole new league of isolation and one that I couldn't begin to understand. I tried to continue the conversation, trying anything to break the clinging silence.
"My name is Mike. Please tell me what happened.how this came to be."
"M-Mike."
Edward tried out the name, his mouth stumbling over the unfamiliar word. He took a deep breath (I later found this was out of habit rather than necessity) and told me of his life - how his "father" (and Jonathan's father, I realised I would have to tell him soon) had created him from the many machines in his factory. I realised the cavernous room in the front of the mansion must be the factory, and my fears about that dark place were reduced. He told me of how his father had died before he could have his hands. Here he faltered, and I could see the staring on his face. I realised that his body was trying to cry, but the dark eyes had no tears to give.
"I destroyed them. My hands.I can only destroy: that's what he said."
I was startled by this, and interrupted him, the words tumbling out before I realised I didn't have the whole picture:
"Your father said that to you?"
"No. A boy, a long time ago."
Then he told me of his journey to the outside world, how he had left with the Avon Lady Peg, how she had adopted him and cared for him: and about Kim - That part seemed the most painful. He stopped frequently, but always found the strength to carry on. I waited, my mind struggling to cope with the information. During the pauses, I thought again about Jonathan, and how he had to watch without interfering. My admiration and anger grew - how could life be so unfair. This may sound arrogant, but I think in those moments I was for the first time truly selfless. I cared only for Edward, Jonathan and Kim, and their torturous fate.
As the last words of his story were lost in the mist of the garden, I looked up (I had looked at my feet in shame or anger, possibly both) and realised that tears were streaming down my face. Suddenly humiliated at this display of emotion - especially that which Edward himself was denied: I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Through the haze of tears I noticed darting shapes behind Edward, flitting through the trees and coming in close as if to touch, then whisking away.
I rubbed my eyes again, and peered closely at the bushes. I had a sinking feeling I knew what those shapes were. Edward noticed my reaction with increasing puzzlement. Keeping his arms firmly by his sides, he turned to look behind him, and again at me. Child-like confusion distorting his adult features.
I did not know what to tell him. I knew what the shapes were, but the strange thing about them was the way they behaved. From their colour, I could see they were spirits, much like Gareth and the children in my room. They were blue in colour (what I could see of them) and they were not solid, though sometimes they swirled close together and became less transparent.
They had seen me looking at them, and came closer, their eyes lighting up with delight. Edward continued to look right at them, but he saw nothing. Many of the spirits embraced him, some cried misty tears, others shouted with joy, their voices whispers on the air. I realised that these other spirits had stayed with Edward all these years, watching over him though his eyes were blind to them. So much pain and suffering, - no one could be heard - and no one could do anything about it - except maybe me. In that moment I felt a surge of power unlike anything I had felt before, my heart grew and emotion filled me up until I felt I could no longer speak for fear my soul would be released, it was so close to the surface.
The spirits crowded closer, Edward, following the movements of my eyes turned around constantly, the spirits trying to get his attention but failing, their desperate cries all forming on single plea:
"Tell him, tell him we are here!"
I realised that the moment had come, I had to tell Edward my reason for being here. He had never asked - maybe he took my presence for granted. Now I had to tell him everything, and when I was done, he wouldn't be so alone any more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry again for the late update! (I seem to spend many of these A/N's grovelling.) Please tell me what you think, constructive criticism welcome. ^_^ Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, much appreciated!
~Kuja7Dax1~