OH MY GOD I just saw the two towers. IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOX1000000000000000 GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN"T FIND THE WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW GOOD IT WAS! IF U HAVEN"T SEEN IT, GO SEE IT SOON!!!!!!!! BEST BEST BEST MOVIE EVER!!! OK, I'm over that now… whew! Just had to get it out of my system, but seriously it was great! NE ways, on with stuff to do with the story now
I'm really really sorry it took so long to update, but it was the last week of school and all the teachers seemed to think that it was a great idea to have a test in every subject and throw in a few projects as well. It was so hectic! I'm sleep-deprived! Ok, I'll stop whining about that now. It's Christmas break and I'll be updating more! YAY! CHRISTMAS!!!! Sry, I'm kinda weird, but you'll get used to it eventually. Thanx for all the encouraging reviews! I feel so loved! ^_^ Ok, so I admit it, my character is very Mary-Sue like. Perfect with a tragic life. *sighs* oh well, I'm not a good enough writer to make her not so perfect and still like my story. I don't mind mary-sues that much as long as they're not too, too perfect. Well, I've just written one so, I guess I gotta like em! :) If you don't like mary-sues and think this story sucks, please just don't review and keep any nasty comments to yourself. On the other hand, it you DO like kinda mary-sue stories, then review!
I'll try along the way to make my character less mary-sue, but don't blame me if I don't get it right. I'm new to this mary-sue not mary-sue thing. Do people generally hate mary-sues by the way? Well, enough rantings and ravings about mary-sues and on with the next chappie!!
P.S. by the way, I don't think I explained enough about Aria's past and her current situation so I'm gonna elaborate on that in this chapter. I'm not sure if I can work it into the chapter that well though, so it might be a bit weird. DARN! I'V ALREADY GONE ON FOR ABOUT HALF THE PAGE!!!! YOU GUYS GOTTA WARN ME NOT TO RAMBLE ON LIKE THIS!!! WELL, NOW WITH THE NEXT CHAPPIE! ^_^
Chapter Two: Morning and Memories
I live behind a mask of lies
Which none may penetrate but myself
And each day brings a new sunrise
Lost on these eyes that see nothing else
But the harsh cruelties of the world
I drink in air of poisonous fumes
Tinged with hatred
Flavored with bitterness
I look upon a place unreal
Filled with monsters unimaginable
Of horrors unforgivable
I ask, "What is love?"
For no such thing could exist
In a place so covered
With anger
I tell you, "Fear is all that is,"
For only fear can survive
In a world such as this
And anger thrive
On the pain of others
"What is this place?" you ask.
This is the mind.
The only place such things may dwell.
Where thoughts unholy
Live on, strive forward.
For the mind,
Yes, the mind,
Cannot be influenced by anything
No, not anything
But yourself.
The words died out, only to be replaced by the voices again. Yes, the voices. Those which haunted her dreams; those which disrupted sleep, the only rest she could claim in this God-forsaken "home." There they were again.
"Where are Mommy and Daddy?"
"Harden your heart. To love is to ask for more pain."
"I know they're here somewhere. Where are they?"
"Don't love, don't make friends. It will only lead to more pain and suffering."
"Why did they hurt me?"
"Train. Focus your mind on training."
"I know they couldn't have meant it."
"Block out all else."
"They were probably just angry at someone."
"Focusing on this will be life from now."
"I know they would be really sorry if I asked them."
"Slowly shut your heart. Then no more pain will come."
"Mommy and Daddy have always been so nice!"
"You will be free. You can seek your revenge."
"What happened? I gotta find them!"
"Block out everyone, yes block them all out, yes, yes—"
Do not listen to them. Hear my words and obey. Keep on going like you were. Do not turn back. Do not look back.
And he said, "Do not fear, for we will all be waiting. We shall love you. We shall hold you as one of us. We shall—"
Obey me. Only me and none else. Listen!
"And love. For that is your destiny. That is everyone's destiny. And only then will you—"
The voices all began to run into each other, all talking at once. Everything was rumbling. The voices were swelling louder and louder. My head was going to explode!
"Stop! Stop!" I screamed.
But they just continued. It was driving me crazy. I wanted to die, to fall away into darkness, anything to make them stop!
"Stop it! Stop it!" I half-screamed, half-sobbed, clutching my head. Dazzling colors were bursting before my eyes. All was red, then orange, then yellow, then gold—
I woke up, screaming, "Stop!" I quickly sat down, hard. I was at the landing of the stairs of the third floor. I had sleepwalked again. One more step and I would have tumbled down the stairs. I had no clue how I'd even managed to make it to the landing of the third floor. Dammit! I thought angrily to myself, I forgot to lock the damned door last night! I had a bad habit of sleepwalking. It had started after my parents changed…when the voices began. They disrupted my sleep sometimes occasionally, sometimes every day, sometimes leaving me for months at a time, for which I was grateful. But they always came again, no matter what I did.
I stomped, purposely making as much noise as possible, back up the stairs. The house was as quiet as a graveyard. I had not woken my parents. I never did. They never seemed to hear my screams, as I had woken up screaming many a time from dreams. Johnny always stayed in their room. I don't know where he slept. The master bedroom, the last time I'd seen it (which was quite a long time ago), was not very large. Since the change with my parents, I had not been allowed in. Of course, I had tried, but the only thing it gained me was a few more invisible bruises. I constantly worried about this, but I could not do anything about it. From the times that I had seen him, which was also not often, he looked rather healthy. I was scared for him, of what my parents might do. For that, I tried to do whatever my parents set me to do. One wrong move, word, even thought could get little Johnny I trouble. It had happened once, long ago…
"Pick up the sword."
I was sitting on the hard wooden floor. I was so tired. Everything in the room was spinning. Loss of blood, I thought to myself, and I can't even see it! I was so, mortally tired. If I could just faint or something, just drift away. The weariness, oh, the bone-deep weariness was getting to me even quicker than the pain.
But I knew the pain would reach me eventually. It always did.
"Pick up the sword," the cold, toneless voice of my father repeated.
Still I sat, as if glued to the floor. My brain didn't seem to be functioning properly. I should have been picking up the arrow. I willed my arm to move, but it didn't. Of course body parts don't move just because you will it to, I thought to myself, disgusted by this weakness, you have to move it. I tried to raise my arm. I couldn't. Is it broken? I thought dazedly to myself. No, no it wasn't. I was just too weary, too tired to do anything other than sit there. Fog seemed to be clouding my brain. Move, my brain was commanding. But still I sat. Johnny, my conscience whispered. Damn Johnny, I thought in a sudden spurt of anger, does he even know what I go through each day to spare him pain? Why me? Why shouldn't he feel the pain too? I immediately regretted thinking such a thing. Dimly, in some inner reach of my mind, I realized that these were my true, deeper feelings. But my surface mind began reprimanding me at once. How can you think like that? Do you want Johnny to suffer? You know his health couldn't take that He would die. How can you be such a cruel monster? How can you even think that? I was feeling very guilty now, ashamed of my thoughts.
I had to get up, had to pick up the sword. But I was so tired! I couldn't seem to move. I still sat.
My father looked at me with cold eyes. "So you won't pick it up then?"
Pick it up! my mind screamed. I opened my mouth to reply, but the words didn't come.
"Very well," my father said, "Sarah?"
"My mother walked through the door. Johnny was with her.
"Johnny!" I gasped, my throat unsticking, voice hoarse and unrecognizable.
He smiled at me, that sweet, innocent smile of a typical child, angelic and radiant. I felt my heart melt. Any bad thoughts I might have harbored about him were dispelled. His eyes gazed into mine, full of trust, of adoration. I realized something then. He trusts me. He would probably follow me off a cliff if I asked him to. Oh gods… If they hurt him, how will I ever forgive myself. He's putting his life in my hands! Johnny had sky blue eyes, crystal clear that were as innocent as a newborn lamb's. His wavy hair was short and light blonde. His body was frail and weak. He was skinny for his age, short too. All of that was because of his sickness. He was born with a disease that made him very weak. But despite all that, he was always happy, always had a smile for everyone, a smile that could melt the ice of winter. All of the kids adored him, even the seniors from high school. He could charm anyone in a few seconds without even realizing it, with those huge blue eyes!
He looked neither like my mother or father. Then again, neither did I. My mother had short, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. Those eyes had usually been filled with warmth and kindness, like brown honey. Now they were cold and bleak, stark and unforgiving. My father also had brown hair, though his was lighter. His eyes, though, were green, like forests and meadows. Now they only contained emptiness and cruelty. Nope, neither Johnny or I ever looked like our parents in any way.
"You disobeyed us," my mother spoke, a cold fire lighting her eyes, "and for that, he shall be punished." Without another word, she slapped Johnny, hard across the face. The blow knocked him backwards, his skinny arms and legs flailing. He sat up, a red welt beginning to rise where she had hit him. His eyes were surprised and in pain. Then my father hit him with the flat of the blade he was holding, his lips parting in a cruel grin, distorted. Johnny was knocked backwards once again. His eyes were now fearful. My mother took up a blade and cut his arm. Red blood spilled onto the floor. Johnny screamed in pain. It was a horrible scream, one which would haunt my nightmares for many years to come. He scrambled onto his feet, trying to run. He was cornered, though, with blows of swords raining on him.
He was screaming, "Mommy, Daddy, stop it! Ari, help me! Help, Ari! Ari! Ari!"
My mind was screaming at me to help him, to run over there and shield him from the blows that were cutting him, drenching the floor in crimson blood. I was still trying to move. No, this isn't right, my mind shouted. I could feel the strength in my bones. I was still tired, but not enough that I couldn't stand. Something was holding me to the floor. I was frozen, held in place! The invisible nets! I suddenly realized.
The invisible nets were something designed by my parents for the training course I went through every day. They were ordinary nets, strong and tough, but coated with something that made them invisible. Usually, you didn't know it had fallen over you until you realized that you couldn't move. Stupid, stupid! I cursed myself. How could I have forgotten about the invisible nets? They were all over, triggered by a touch, extremely sensitive. When you stumbled into one, you had to get it off very carefully. If you just tried to blunder through it, you would probably give yourself tons of cuts. They were made out of some sort of material that was soft and flexible, but still cut as sharply as a blade. Johnny's screams were growing louder, more anguished. He was still screaming, "Ari, help me!" as if I could somehow save the day. My heart constricted, feeling every ounce of pain he felt.
I carefully and expertly detached myself from the net and sprang forward, intent on doing anything and everything I could to stop my parents from hurting Johnny any further. But before I could take more than two steps, I triggered another invisible net. I stared at the other side of the room, where my parents were abusing poor Johnny, in despair. They must have rigged the whole place with invisible nets! At that moment, I felt like crying. I would never get there in time to stop them from seriously damaging, or even killing—my blood ran cold at the thought, Johnny. I fought for control; weeping would not help, neither would panicking.
Drawing in a deep breath, I steeled myself, knowing what I must do. Before my brain could persuade me to do something else, before I could lose my nerve, I charged. I ran across the room, triggering four more invisible nets as I did. Not having time to get any off, I just rushed forward. I could feel the nets cutting into my skin like fire. Pain lacerated up my arms, my legs, my body, my face. Every nerve within my body seemed to be afire with pain. I bit back a scream. If I had not been used to pain from all the beatings, I probably would have passed out. But seeing how I was used to it, I kept on running forward, trying desperately to ignore the pain, to focus on Johnny. I knew that if I didn't have a focus, I would lose control and succumb to pain. That would leave Johnny to the beating.
So I ran. Ironically, even now, my feet made no sound. The training that had been beaten into me stayed even now. Finally, I reached Johnny. I flung my body on top of his, shielding him from the blows of my parents. He was whimpering in pain, his eyes closed. My heart was breaking for him, for the pain he must have been feeling. He was only five. My parents didn't seem to notice that I was there now, that they were now beating me and not him. I glanced backwards once (my back was towards them) and saw a hungry and malicious flame burning in their eyes and wicked grins on their faces. I felt chilled. Those expressions held no sanity! Only lust for pain. Blows were raining on my back like arrows of flame. I made not a sound, knowing that if I did, it would only worsen. I had learned silence long ago. Silence did not stop my expressions, though.
I could feel my face contorting with pain. Biting back screams, I concentrated on Johnny. He had opened his eyes and was looking on in horror. He could see what our parents were doing, the expressions on their faces. "Don't look, Johnny!" I managed to gasp out. He obeyed, but unfortunately, his eyes turned to me.
"Ari! They're hurting you! Tell them to stop! I don't want you hurted!" he told me in a whisper. Tears began running down his face. Oh, dear, sweet Johnny! Here he was, with cuts all over him, and he was crying for me! He hadn't cried when they had beaten him, but now he was crying because I was hurting. My heart swelled up with emotion. My little brother!
"Oh, Johnny!" was all I could gasp out. I was shielding him from the blows, but I was beginning to feel their effect. My legs were beginning to give way. The pain kept on coming, no matter how hard I tried to block it out. No, you must stand! I told myself fiercely. You're the only thing between them and Johnny. What will happen to him if you fall? But I couldn't fight it anymore. Fog was clouding my brain.
Stand! Stand!
But I was falling, falling….
Stand! The thought was weaker now, though. I could feel myself starting to black out. Wow, I'm actually passing out! That's a first. I had never passed out before during these "training sessions."
Johnny…
No, I had to stay awake! I had to protect Johnny!
But I couldn't hold on anymore… I would fall…
Then, the blows stopped, right before I collapsed. They always did. My parents always seemed to know when I couldn't stand anymore. Usually, I hated this for that meant that I could not go to the dark blackness that was waiting for me, the peace. It meant that I had to stay awake to feel each cut, each bruise. But, for once I was grateful. This time, it meant that Johnny would be safe.
My legs gave out in relief. Johnny hugged me tightly. I felt his wet cheek against mine. "You is hurted," he told me, "Ari, I don't want you to be hurted. Make the hurt go away." I nearly wept. Dear, sweet little Johnny. How I loved him! But then he was pulled out of my grasp by my parents. They jerked him roughly away, ignoring his whimpers of pain.
"Don't hurt him," I gasped out, "Please, I beg of you. Do not hurt him."
"I hope this had taught you a lesson," my father told me, with no emotion in his voice. "Never disobey us again. Your brother has paid today and so have you. We will not hesitate to repeat this process."
I heard both of them leave, dragging Johnny along. Johnny was still whimpering in pain. What will happen to him? How will he heal? But I could not answer those questions. Well, at least there is proof of what happened to him. I thought bitterly. I dragged myself across the floor and into the bathroom, crawling. I felt the pain lacerating through every part of my body. I pulled myself up, holding onto the bathroom counter. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Pale gray eyes stared back at me. My hair was a bit disheveled, but that was the only sign of what had just occurred.
Just great, I thought bitterly, slumping to the bathroom floor, trying to catch my breath. Even standing up had cost me. Oh, the pain… Surely I would go mad with the pain! It was unbearable. I knew in the morning that I would still be able to go to school, though. I always did. The pain was always dampened in the morning. Never gone, but lessened. I don't know how that happened, but then again, I didn't know how everything stayed invisible either. Oh Johnny, how I wish you could live in a normal household, grow up as a normal child. Not be burdened with such harsh realties. Tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to stop them from spilling, but they did. They splattered on the cold, stone floor of the bathroom. Then they came faster and faster, until I was sobbing my heart out.
Outside, the stars shone down on the peaceful neighborhood in Massachusetts, unaware that their light shone down upon a home where a girl lay sobbing on a bathroom floor, too much in pain to do anything else…
That had occurred when I was thirteen. Now I was fifteen, a freshman in high school, and Johnny was seven. I never disobeyed or hesitated again.
I continued up the stairs, finally reaching my room. My room was actually normal, with a bed, closet, drawer, bookshelf, desk, and other essential things. That was only because I had to invite friends over occasionally to give the appearance of a normal, everyday teenager. My parents had ordered me to do keep a normal appearance everywhere. So, at least I had a room and a bed. Glancing at my clock, it read 7:15. No more time to sleep. Sighing, I went into the bathroom and began preparing for school.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I'm finally done! That was different from the way I was planning it to be. I was planning to write about school in this chapter cuz I wasn't expecting the memory to be that long, but oh well. School and stuff will be the next chappie! I wrote a really long memory cuz I wanted to establish the character more, to give a deeper look into Aria's past life in order for you to understand her better. I STILL don't think I talked enough about her past, but I don't want to bore y'all to death, so I'll just have to work in details as I go along. I don't think I would be able to stand another chappie just about the past anyways!
I hope you guys understand Aria a little better now! AS I GO ALONG, YOU'LL SEE THAT I'LL ASK YOU GUYS A LOT OF QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR OPINION SO PLEASE READ ALL MY RAMBLING AT THE BEGINNING AND END OF EACH CHAPTER!!!!!! TODAY, I WANNA KNOW: IS WESTRON THE SAME AS ENGLISH? AND WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE TITLE OF THIS STORY? WHAT WOULD BE A BETTER TITLE? ANY SUGGESTIONS? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW AND ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!! There was one at the beginning too, about mary-sues. SO REVIEW, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS CHAPPIE, AND PLEASE DON'T FLAME!! THANX! Wow, I ramble a lot don't I? sorry ^_^
P.S. Italics mean either thoughts (sometimes Aria's) or to emphasize a word.
I think you can figure out which depending on the text.
~Lady of Dreams~