III. Moonlight
You are seven when you try to escape for the first time. The moon is full and the stars are falling and your little heart aches for the feeling of grass under your feet and wind in your hair. You don't even make it out of the tower. They find you in the entrance hall, searching for a window without bars after you couldn't open the front door.
That night they beat you up for the first time – to make you learn respect. Later in bed you hold your aching stomach and the shame burns hotter than the tears on your wounded face. And the whole time the noise of the waves of the lake outside rings like laughter in your ears.
IV. To be Strong
For one year you don't show any emotions. You don't cry or laugh, you don't argue or fight. When you turn eight you start real lessons. You can decide which classes you want to take, but you don't get exited like anyone else. For one year you are defeated.
Life is easier that way. The other children ask you to learn with them. The teachers give you more advanced tasks. The templars don't look at you with a murderous glint in their eyes, every second ready to stop you from whatever you're doing.
You realize then that's exactly what they want you to be: a lifeless shell, always obeying their orders, never disagreeing, never wanting to decide on your own. Your first smile hurts the muscles you didn't use for so long. And it feels so good to run through the hallways, a wide grin on your lips.
You're back. And – seeing their angry faces – you swear to never let them defeat you again.
tbc