"Except to heaven, she is nought;
Except for angels, lone;
Except to some wide-wandering bee,
A flower superflous blown;
Except for winds, provincial;
Except by butterflies,
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the acre lies.
The smallest housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the lawn,
And somebody has lost the face
That made existence home!"
"Arrêt, Henri! Stop this madness!"
Cowering in the corner, Silas could only whimper. His knees scraped along the cold floor as he tried to crawl away from the screams of his mother. Jagged cuts opened up along his knees, but in the eyes of a seven year old, anything was better than the awful screaming and the smell of liquor radiating from his father.
"Madness?" the man screamed back. "Madness, you call it! Ever since that diable blanc came into this world, there has been nothing but madness! "
The sound of hand against cheek cracked through the air. "How dare you! He is our son!"
"He is the son of the Devil!"
Silas' eyes swept the room, searching. "Belle? Belle, venez!" he called softly.
A small dog peeked from under a table, her ears pressed against her white-furred head. She made a move to obey the command, creeping out from under the table and towards Silas, but retreated again when the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall and towards the living room.
Terror seized Silas as a huge figure stormed into the room, watery blye eyes narrowed in hatred and lip curled up into a sneer of contempt. His father strode towards him, snatching a belt off the nearby chair.
"Come here, you worthless curr!"
Recoiling against the wall, Silas began to tremble. "I didn't do anything, father! Please!"
Stars exploded in front of his eyes as a swift kick connected with his ribcage, forcing Silas to his hands and knees. Two more kicks left the boy gasping for air and bleeding, fingers uselessly digging into the wood floor.
"You didn't?" the man snarled, raising the belt. "Did you do outside and play with those children next door?"
Silas choked back his tears. "Y-yes, father, b-but..."
"MONGREL!"
The belt came down with a crack; once, twice, three times. Screams echoed through the room. Silas realized they were his own. Fire seemed to cross over his back and the world around him blurred. Over and over the belt came down, making the air sing with its power.
"What did I tell you, you stupid monster?"
"Never be s-seen, father!"
"What else?"
"Never be h-heard, father!"
The blows stopped. His father's angry breathing sent the smell of whiskey into the air. "What are you supposed to be?"
Silas felt his throat close. "I...I..."
CRACK!
The belt slammed upon his raw flesh. "SAY IT, damn you! SAY IT!"
"I'm invisible!" the child wailed. "Invisible!"
The roar from his father shook the house. "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU STAY THAT WAY?"
CRACK!
"Diable!"
The ability to speak left Silas as the belt cut into his raw flesh. Blood pooled to the surface of his skin, trickling down his bruised sides. What was the point of living? He knew once, didn't he...?
CRACK!
"Demon!"
Was he even alive?
CRACK!
"Fantôme!"
Silas felt tears sting his eyes. If it wasn't the children in the streets that pointed and laughed, then it was his father with the belt in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other.
CRACK!
"Inutile!"
Again and again came the names. Again and again came the belt. Silas felt his knees begin to give way. Was this the third time or the fourth, this week?
CRACK!
"I'll kill you, bastard child!"
"Belle!" Silas cried, common sense having fled long ago. "Belle! Aidez-moi, svp!"
The father snarled as the small ball of fur shot out from under the table. The dog bit into the man's leg, growling through a mouthful of fabric and skin. The blows stopped and Silas scrambled away from the drunk man, trying to get to the door.
Escape, his mind howled, escape...
A yelp of pain caused the young boy to turn as he stood. His father had grabbed the dog, blood flowing across the floor from puncture marks. Silas screamed, running back towards his father.
"BELLE!"
The small dog hit the wall before Silas could reach her, body laying limp on the floor. Sinking to the ground, tears flowed down his pale face as he touched his pet, stroking her soft, bloodied muzzle.
Protector...friend...
"Henri! Why!" his mother cried from the doorway of the room.
"Your cursed spawn set the bitch on me! The bitch got what she de-"
Silas was on his feet in seconds, fist connecting with his father's face. Crimson dripped from the mans' nose and before Silas could think, his fathers' hands were around Silas' throat, squeezing.
"Fiend!" he hissed, spitting in the boy's face. "Hideous monstre!"
Air... there was no air...
"STOP!"
The woman lunged towards her husband, striking with the fury only a mother could possess. Surprised at first, Silas' father let go, turning on his wife. Silas fell to the ground as his father broke the whiskey bottle against the wall, watching in a daze as the jagged glass sunk into his mother's chest, over and over.
His father kept stabbing. "Viper! Go to hell with your demon and his bitch!"
Sabines' body fell with a thump and the murder weapon fell to the ground beside her. Silas stared, his mind and eyes filled with pools of red. His father stared back at him, then began to laugh. He laughed and laughed until the sound became a wild cackle, fading into a drunken giggle.
"Rot with your witch and your bitch," the man slurred, stumbling towards the bedroom. "Witch, bitch, demon..."
The door slammed, leaving the boy in silence and blood. Silas looked around, unblinking. Finally, he reached out towards the ball of lifeless fur that had once been his dog, holding her in his arms and rocking gently.
"Belle," Silas whispered. "Mon petite Belle... je t'aime. I will never forget you."
Rising to his feet, Silas set his pet's body next to that of his mother, giving her soft fur one last stroke. "Bonne nuit."
Tears faded away as a coldness settled in his chest. Silas gazed at his mother, then slowly turned his eyes to the fireplace. A dagger, used for opening letters, shone bright with promise upon the mantle. His feet moved his body and his hand closed around the handle, the coldness of the metal matching that in his heart.
Tonight, it would serve a better purpose than opening letters.
"Silas..."
Such a perfect tool. The door to the bedroom opened and Silas glided inside. Unseen...unheard...invisible...
A ghost.
"Silas?"
His father lay on the bed, covered in blood and liquor. The man snored through his broken nose, oblivious to the glint of metal that rose into the air above his chest.
"Please..."
The man woke with a yell as the blade plunged into his flesh. Silas had poor aim then; his young hand shook as it stabbed over and over. Suddenly, the eyes of his father glazed, empy. Silas stopped. The dagger dropped from his hand.
"...Wake up."
Cold. Everything was cold. Taking a step away from the body, Silas suddenly spun as a hand grabbed his shoulder, striking at the invisible intruder.
"OW!"
Silas sat up straight at the yowl of pain. "Wh...what..."
Sophie rubbed her arm, scowling from the driver's seat of the car. "I think we're here," she said, glaring at him and pointing at the gate.
The dream began to fade as his waking mind took over, pushing the images as far from memory as possible. Silas closed his eyes. The past was never more than a night's sleep away...
"Are you okay?"
He tried to laugh, though it came out hollow. "It was only a dream. But you're right... we're here. Let me go wake our dear hostess."
She watched him step out of the car, frowning. "You must have been having one hell of a dream..."
The fact that she wasn't angry at him was surprising enough. Silas couldn't handle the concern, and walked across the gravel without a reply. If he accepted her sympathy... if he acknowledged the pain... if he spoke, everything would come out.
Everything.
Hell, little sprite? That, he thought darkly, doesn't even begin to cover it.
