Chapter 12: Storytelling
I been had and I been held
With the ghosts at bay
I been oaked and I been doped
And carried away
I been charred and I been scarred
On my own face
But i never thought I'd see you as I did today
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
As they carried me away
I been clubbed and I been snubbed
By the dogs of LA
And I been burned and I been learned
In the same city
I been whored and I been gored
I been less and I been more
But I never thought I'd see you
As I did today
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
As they carried me away
You were stuck in the badlands
Acting like a bad bad man
I been photographed and painted up
And I been in love only once
And I feared the best and loved the worst
And insisted that I go first
And watch your eyes as they poured
And I never really loved you more
And I never thought I'd see you
As I did today
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
Till the angels hung around
As they carried you away
And they put you in the ground
When the angels hung around
And the angels hung around
As they carried me away
Slipping back into consciousness, it takes me no time at all to remember where I am. I've been here for so long, it seems, that I am used to the winding pattern the cracks make on the ceiling. It is a familiar sight, no longer as frightening as it once was. Averna holds her vigil at the window as usual. She has grown even more distant recently, but I do not question why because I figure she will tell me if she wants. Pushing myself up, careful of the bandages that still wind around my slashed but rapidly healing body as a precaution, I slowly stand and make my way to the window to sit by Averna. Not acknowledging each other outwardly we both sit in silence, staring at the world that is dangled in front of our noses, so close and yet unreachable. The second day I was awake, Averna informed me of the rules, and with a glint of malice in her eyes she enlightened me on exactly what would happen if either of us tried to escape. The last person to attempt it wound up drawn and quartered…quite possibly the worst death I've ever heard of. It is this knowledge that keeps us inside the bar-free window.
I've lost track of just how long I have been here. I lost count after I slept for days at a time when I first got here. It has been long enough for my broken arm to mend, and Averna removed the cast a few days ago, so I suppose it has been about six weeks. Not that it matters how long I've been here. Averna was very clear on that; that is about all she has been clear on. Often, I find myself lost in thoughts, and they inevitably lead me back to Tessa. Somehow, I know that she is safe and happy where she is, and this puts me at ease about whatever is to come. As long as Tessa is happy it doesn't matter what happens to me. Life with Ellone and everyone else will be good for her. She'll have people who love her and can care for her, and most importantly they can tell her who she is, who I am…was. If it means Tessa will be happy and safe, I'd give up anything, including my life.
It is on this thought that Averna comes to life beside me, her eyes wide and her breath coming in short gasps, as though someone is choking her. Waiting for her to come back to the present, I take in the scenery: trees as far as you can see…which is not far. It quickly becomes clear to me, though, that this is not the same as all the times Averna has awakened from her trance gasping. Her hand reaches out and grabs my arm, her lips moving as she tries to speak, and then her eyes roll back in her head and she falls unconscious on the window seat. Scared by this, I try to wake her, and when she remains in the dream world that all too often takes her from me, I resign myself to solitude and arrange her in a more comfortable position on the cushion. Just as I finish, I hear a noise outside the door.
Standing, I slowly back myself to the wall, lowering myself until my knees are tucked under my chin, my arms wrapped around my legs. The doorknob wiggles and I can feel tears prick my eyes. Although I am unsure of why, fear has descended and surrounds me. Nobody has been to the room since I was brought here, nobody has even been in the vicinity of the room, and the memory of what they have done to me…what they did to Keisha…it is enough to make me wish I could just disappear before whatever is on the other side of the wall enters. The door opens and in walks Killian, a frown on his face, along with his dark sunglasses that cover the terror that are his eyes.
"You might as well stand and come over here, Charm. They've neutralized Averna and I know you have nothing to defend yourself with. Now, be a good girl and come to me. We both know how much I hate having to get rough with you. It is below me." His voice sends a shiver down my spine, but I do not move.
Footsteps make me look up as Killian towers over me, dark glasses still covering up his eyes so that I cannot see if he is really even looking at me. He shakes his head and crouches down in front of me, a harsh smirk on his face as he reaches out and grabs my chin in his hand. I can feel the anger building up inside of me; anger at being helpless, anger at what has been done to me, anger at this man, so much anger that I cannot contain it all. Drawing in a deep breath, I spit in Killian's face.
"That was stupid, Charm. I am the only one here who does not wish to see you in pieces, so if I were you I'd stay on my good side." He reaches a hand up and wipes his face. "Even your friend over there would rather see you diced into pieces and have her freedom than have to sit in here with you. She might be here to protect you from some of the more pitiful residents of this place, but don't think for a second that she gives a shit what happens to you in the end. Especially if she could gain her freedom, because that is all that matters to her anymore."
"What does your boss want with me? Is anybody ever going to tell me what is going on? Why does it appear best for everyone that I be a corpse?" It takes me by surprise when Killian throws his head back and laughs, and I am even more surprised that it is a genuine laugh.
"Poor Charm. You really don't know, do you? It isn't about you, not really. This is about what you are…what you were born as, it matters very little to us who you are. It does not matter what you have done with your life or how good or despicable of a person you are, your existence alone is the problem." He lets go of my chin and stands up.
"Well…what about you? Why are you here? And Averna…what is her story?" My need for information overrides my fear for a moment.
"I am here because I was in the way. My existence was a thorn in her side. But unlike you, my existence did not cause her pain, just annoyed her, and the annoyance was easily removed once I was conquered. As for Averna…" he glances at the body lying motionless on the window seat. "Well, that is a story she will have to tell you because it was before I was a slave to her whims."
"So what did you come here for? Are you taking me somewhere?" Am I only capable of asking questions?
With a speed I stupidly did not think he possessed, he has a hold on both my arms and has picked me up from my crouching position against the wall, my feet barely touching the ground. Before I can even utter a protest, he has dragged me out the door and is pulling me down a hall. My body is objecting with every step he forces me to take, my wounds screaming as he forces me to move in ways that I should not be moving while I am still healing. For some reason, my voice has fled me, so I cannot even speak out against the way he is hauling me behind him. The pain builds up inside me and just as I get to the point where I think I may disintegrate from the inside out because of it, he opens another door and shoves me through before him, closing the door and locking me in the pitch black room.
The dark prevents me from seeing what comes next; prevents me from attempting to protect myself. Something hard, a gloved fist, smashes into my gut, causing me to double over from the electric pain shooting up my spine and exploding in my brain. The laughter that follows registers in my brain only for a millisecond before the pain once again takes control. The first hit was a surprise, the second one not so much, and by the time I count five, my body has decided for me that I am not going to fight back. My limbs will not move in any way, not even to defend my beaten body. Besides, I don't have any weapon to defend myself with. Resigning myself to this fate that seems to be slowly suffocating me, I begin to stop feeling what is going on; stop seeing it, stop hearing it, stop tasting the blood in my mouth. Long ago I stopped numbering the blows my body is taking, the last number being eight. The last line of defense the body has, I once read in a book in Trabia, is to shut down and send conscious thought somewhere else. The body is still awake, still alert and responding, but the mind has fled the situation.
"Oh, no you don't, Charm. You aren't escaping me." The sinister voice whispers into my thoughts, and the first part of my body I become aware of is my ear as whoever it is tickles it with her breath for a second before biting it, sharp teeth drawing blood as they puncture my flesh. I let out a shriek, and suddenly my body is alive again, fists trying to punch the being next to me, legs kicking out wildly at nothing but air. Once again there is laughter as I struggle and flail against the grip my unseen foe has on me. The being drops me away from herself and giggles as my flailing body hits the uneven ground, causing me to wheeze for air.
"Take her away. She's pathetic." With the dismissal, I feel arms gather me and then the distinct stride of Killian as he carries me out of the dark room. The light that shines against my eyelids tells me that we have left that black hole of a room, and Killian carefully carries me back to the room he took me from in the first place where Averna waits. After putting me back on the slab, he touches my face almost sweetly and then I listen as his steps retreat to the door and there is the ominous click of the lock sliding into place. Laboring, I open my eyes and look down at myself. The clothes I was brought here in are now covered in blood from my re-opened wounds, and a few new ones, and ripped in several places. I cannot sit up because of the pain, and so I stay on my back and close my eyes. Time in this place always seems to stand still, so I have no real idea how long it has been, but I feel Averna standing over me.
"Damn bastards used it on me." Of course, I have no idea what she is talking about, and I have honestly lost the curiosity I once had. I could not care less what she is talking about. All I care about is getting the hell out of here, whether it is through escape or death, I do not care. Averna gently begins to peel away the blood soaked clothes I am wearing and tenderly unwinds the bandages that now encase open wounds. There is no understanding her.
After Averna once again wraps me in binding she puts her arms around my neck and leans down to give me a slight hug. Pulling away, she helps me stand, and then assists me in dressing in clothing that I am unsure of the origin. The old gray sweater has a stretched neck, and therefore it keeps falling off my shoulder. After pushing it up a few times, I give up and leave it. The pants I am wearing now are old jeans that are just a little too big. This is remedied by tying a shred of my old shirt with minimal blood stains through the belt loops, effectively holding the jeans in place on my waist. At least this clothing will offer me a bit more protection against the cold that creeps in at sunset, and it will be padding against the future blows that will undoubtedly come. I'm beginning to wonder if I will ever be allowed to fully heal, or if every time I get close they will take me into that dark room and work me over again. At least I have Averna to atch me up again.
"Why are you helping me now? I thought you hated me." Averna looks at me through guarded violet eyes before answering.
"We are not so unalike, you and I. They want you the same as they wanted me. Their reasons might ultimately differ, but the bottom line is that you are here against your will just the same as I am. You are at the mercy of their whims, as am I. It is not you that I hate, that I am angry at; it is them. That does not mean I like you, though. You are just better than them. They are all her pawns, and that is what she would like me to be as well, but I refuse. And she cannot force me like all the others, because they already took the one thing that meant the most to me a long time ago. Their bargaining tool, and they destroyed it because they knew not what they held." She is silent again, and I think that she is done talking, that she has retreated back into her mind, into a trance like she so often does. I am wrong.
"They wanted me because of the powers I possess, just like they want you for your power. Except mine is not one they can extract: Your power is, and there is where our differences begin."
"My power? What power is that?" Hyne, I'm confused.
"Poor child…you poor Charm. You really know nothing of your origin, do you?" She sighs before continuing, "I suppose I should inform you, then. You are not like everyone else. There used to be others like you, a clan called Amuleto that lived in Southern Trabia, but an unknown sorceress wiped them out along with my people and a people called the Azul. Of my kind there was a handful that survived: My mother, my father and his two brothers, five young girls and three young boys. Of all of the Azul, who lived near what is now Balamb, there were nine survivors, four women and five men. The Amuleto were hit the hardest, as they had held the majority among the three groups, and they were left with the fewest…only eight of them survived…four boys and four girls. They were our ancestors. You are the last pure Amuleto, a fourth generation survivor, I am now the last full Psychique that exists, and your friend is the last of the Azul, also a fourth generation survivor."
"My friend—" She interrupts me.
"Yes, your friend. The blonde. Anyway, over time people forgot most of the stories about our people, and now we are known by different names, by the translations of our clan names into modern language. I am called Psychic, your friend, Blue, and as you know, they call you Charm. They use our clan's name as our name as a way of showing that we are somehow sub-human, somehow below them, and therefore deserve every bit of torture and abuse they can dish out."
"But…I still don't know what powers I have that others don't have."
"Yes, that is because so many people can use a part of your power that nobody would really notice the difference. You have not been coached in your power, so, not surprisingly, it is weak. As a matter of fact, your power is so weak that the segment you can use can also be used by common humans and even I and Blue can use it. Your ability to cure and heal goes so much further than a mere Curaga, but you have never been taught like you should have. The fact that you could use such high levels of healing magic at such a young age is the only real sign of your otherwise dormant power, and it is not nearly odd enough to warrant anyone looking into unless, of course, you knew what to look for."
"You mean…my power is my healing ability?"
"Yes. I can read minds, see future events, speak telepathically, and move objects with my mind, and if I reach a deep enough trance I can escape my body and be free for a while. Blue has her blue magic, although she has not even scratched the surface of what she can do with it. You can heal and cure…at the peak of their civilization the Amuleto could bring people back from the dead, heal diseases, and they were a people that did not grow old because they could even heal their time beaten bodies." She pauses for a moment to let this sink in.
"My people had an alliance with your clan, so we could also live for long stretches of time without aging. There is no difference in the way we look, we all look just like every other human. The difference was the marking each clan would choose to wear." Averna pulls her hair up off her neck and shrugs her leather jacket down, exposing a violet marking on the back of her neck. It is a simple left eye made of a few lines, with two lines underneath, one short and one long. "This is the mark of the Psychique. Your people had their mark on their left shoulder blade in black, and the Azul had their marking on their left foot in blue."
"But…I don't have a mark on my shoulder blade. Is that significant?"
"Of course you don't have a marking. It was custom to wait until the fifteenth birthday to give the mark. The question I have, is, do you want the mark now?"
The question catches me a bit by surprise. It is one I should have been anticipating, I suppose, but I wasn't. Averna and I have never done anything more than coexist in this room together. Most of the time we don't even talk to one another, and I don't know what is making her warm up to me now. Thinking it over, I try to imagine what symbol the clan I came from would have had, but nothing comes to mind but the tattoo on the back of Averna's neck.
"What did our symbol look like? The Amuleto symbol?" I question her.
Averna strides over to the table that holds the water pitcher and sketches something with a piece of charcoal I have never seen before. Looking over her shoulder, I feel something shoot through me when I see the symbol, a feeling of recognition. It is a spiral with a vertical line going through the center, connected to the beginning of the spiral, and on the other side of the vertical line is a small horizontal line. When she finishes, she looks up at me and begins to explain it.
"This is the symbol of your clan. Its job, like the symbols for each clan, was to increase your power. In the Amuleto's case, it would increase your healing power. And this symbol…" She trails off as she sketches another image in charcoal, four touching spirals. "This is Blue's symbol. It represents learning, wisdom and humility. My mark is the all seeing eye, of course. So what do you say…do you want your mark? You are beyond the customary age, after all."
Looking up into Averna's face and trying to digest what she has told me, I weigh my options. I do want the mark of my clan, if only to feel a bit closer to my family; a little closer to my ancestors. But I'm still unsure of this new, friendly side of Averna.
"Huh, that's funny." Averna is watching me closely as she says this.
"What?"
"Well, you don't trust me. Which is completely logical, since I've given you no reason to trust me. But from the moment I met you all of your thoughts have been irrational and jumbled."
"So...why is that funny?"
"It just seems odd that your first torture session would put you back in a rational state of mind."
"I suppose that does seem odd. But I was raised largely in a military academy, and I've been trained for this kind of stuff since I was ten."
Averna raises her eyebrows and slowly nods asa she appraises me. "Now, there is a thought I never picked up on. I should have been disecting your brain instead of sitting on the windowsill trying to mentally escape."
"Um...okay." Averna smiles, and it changes everything about her. I've only seen her with a frown, a scowl, but a smile makes her look younger, less troubled.
"Do you want the mark or not? I promise I'm not being devious, or working for them in any way." Her glare returns as she directs it at the door. "They have nothing left to make me do their bidding." Snapping out of what I'm sure are dark memories, she returns her amethyst eyes to me. "So?"
What the hell, if it may help us in the end, I'll do it. Plus, it will help me feel a little closer to the roots I knew I had but had never known anything about. "Okay." Besides, after the pain I have experienced recently, this should not be so bad.
"I don't know about that. This is a different kind of pain…one you inflict on yourself willingly." Averna once again read my mind. She instructs me to remove the shirt and sit in the chair with my upper body resting on the slab I use as a bed. I do as she tells me and she proceeds to call a needle and ink to her using her powers; where it came from, I do not know. "If it is something that I know exists nearby, I can make it materialize." That answers that question. She goes to work carving the symbol into my shoulder blade, and I realize how right she was. There was no way I could have prepared myself for this pain, but I endure it silently. When she finishes, she wraps a bandage over this new, permanent mark on my back and hands me my shirt. Carefully pulling it on, I feel as though I have just now learned my name. It is like being small again and learning what everything is called and what it is for. I can feel the power of the mark rushing through my veins, a warm comforting presence.
Averna once again goes to her window seat, silent as a blade of grass, and falls into a trance, but this time I know that it's her way of truly escaping this place; her way of keeping ahold of what she has left of her sanity. It is obvious to me that she has been here a long time, longer than I can begin to comprehend. She is a second generation survivor of the sorceress while I am a fourth generation; she still remembers the history of the old clans and what happened, probably told to her by her parents. Somehow, she has endured things that most people cannot even imagine, things I've only begun to get a taste of in my recent torture session.
Knowing why they want me, that they want my ability to heal, does nothing to ease my mind, though. Nobody here seems to be aware of Tessa's existence, but I know it is only a matter of time before they find out about her and want her as well; they would torture her, and she is so small and fragile they would kill her with one blow. Or worse, they would use her to get my complete cooperation. Sinking into the cushion of the window seat next to Averna, I let tears fall for my lost identity, my mysterious capability, and my distant daughter. Reaching out a hand, I place it against the window, my forehead following to rest against the cool glass. Looking out at the trees that appear to surround this place, I close my eyes and let my body relax, falling asleep against the window that stands between me and the guise of freedom.
Author's Note: Okay. The symbols in this chapter are based on actual symbols. If you want a better idea of what they look like, they can be found by going to Google and looking up the Eye of Horus (Averna's symbol; although technically the left eye is usually referred to as the Eye of Thoth, and rules intuition and magic and reflects lunar energy, telepathy and clairvoyance, traces enemies in dreams and visions), Choku Rei (Selphie's symbol; a New Age healing practice called Reiki uses this power symbol to increase energies available to the healer), and Adinkra Ram's Horns (Blue's symbol; Adinkra are symbols used to decorate colorful fabric by designers in Ghana and the ram's horns represents wisdom, strength, humility and learning). As you can see, all of the symbols really do relate to the powers they have...Look it up and tell me what you think. Anyway, tell me how this chapter goes over. The song at the beginning is called The Angels Hung Around by Rilo Kiley.
Edited 11.30.08