Broken Anathema » Places

         During the drive back home we hardly exchanged a word. I felt stark exhaustion wash over me, but somehow I could not close my eyes, for fear the images would return behind shut eyelids. Medwin's hand clutched mine reassuringly. Sometimes he'd glance at me to make sure I was okay but nothing further. When we finally reached my house, he half-carried me, half-helped upstairs in my room.
"I'll go downstairs and bring you something warm to drink." he said and he left me to change in my own nightgown.
It didn't seem as though I'd be able to stop the trembling anytime soon, so I folded my knees and wrapped my arms around them, my head resting atop them. That's how he found me when he returned, his red hair falling in his eyes. Medwin sat next to me on my bed, as he had done a dozen times before.
"Here." he said, handing me a hot mug. I breathed in and I sensed a faint smell of chocolate. I muttered a 'Thank you' and took a slow sip.
For a while, we were all alone in silence, the only sound disturbing it being the constant rattling of my teeth. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer, as I had predicted.
"Thalia...what happened back there?" he asked, taking away the mug from my trembling hands.He put it on my desk then returned his gaze to me.When I didn't answer, he sighed somewhat angrily."You call me, telling me to come over to your house, yet all I get is a note about someone else's address and you telling me to get Alec's car and come find you there. Before I am able to comprehend what it is that I am doing, I am already driving there.What do I see?" his hands clench into tight fists." You and Alec, beaten bloody and you gagged, being hauled over inside a car by some stranger. If I might say so myself, it didn't look very friendly."
"Medwin-"
His voice raises."And if all that wasn't enough to make me sick with worry, I decide to follow behind. The man drives you out of the city, takes you to the bridge, and from what my feeble mind could conceive, was about to murder Alec and perhaps you, before I miraculously intervened and saved you both. I don't know who that guy was. I don't know what your relationship with him was, but I know that he is dangerous. I think I deserve an explanation."
So, in the darkness of my room, I talked to him. The words flew from my mouth, reluctantly at first, sticky with hesitation and fear and shame, then flooded my mind with fear and desperation and need. Medwin was a good listener. He didn't interrupt, didn't gasp at the horrid parts, didn't frown when tears started falling from my eyes. As time passed, I found myself wrapped in his arms, my hand clutching his shirt to keep him close. Medwin was stroking my hair soothingly. Crying makes one prone to falling asleep, but I had nightmares that night, like every other night, only worse. Every time I woke up, he was there to reassure me, to hold me and give me his hand when I needed it. I lay on his chest and his eyes interlocked mine and I felt secure and safe. I think I finally managed to have a peaceful sleep when the first shafts of light began to enter through the blinds. I don't remember much after that. Just that he was there, chasing all my demons away.

         Caydryn couldn't remember where he was, nor who he was. All he was aware of was painful pulling sensation in his mind. If he had hands, he would be holding his head. But he didn’t have a head anymore either. Memories were escaping his mind, all of them. Emotions were floating away. The lyrics of his first lullaby abandoned him. What was left of his conscience was being torn into shards and they were being drawn agonizingly somewhere else.
He had no idea how long it lasted. Time is not a factor in pain. Torment feels everlasting to those who suffer it. But as everything does, it ended. For then, it all surged back. Memory after memory flooded back into his mind, and he cried out, for the amount of years he lived were all coming to him in milliseconds. Now he did have a head and he was clutching it tightly. Fear feels everlasting as well. But when it died down, he realized he had the ability to think. His first thought: Where am I? He opened his eyes beneath his fingers and was assaulted by the light of the room. He squeezed his eyes shut again, as the pain in his mind intensified. He was aware he wasn't alone. He was also aware he was naked, on a cold floor, and silence was heavy in the air, as if his company were waiting for him.
He speculated as to where he could be. His last memories were the last feeble moments on his death bed. But he no longer felt feeble. In fact, he didn't remember feeling like this for many years. This was youth.
It was wrong.
Braving the light, he opened his eyes and lay down his hands. At first, he was blinded, but he refused to close his eyes. Slowly, slowly his eyesight returned, albeit blurry, bringing with it his surroundings. He was in a damp room, with only one shuttered window. There was one chair in the corner, its two back legs pathetically twisted out of shape. There were two people standing silently in front of him. A man and a girl. Black and white. Before he could examine them thoroughly, he saw a neat pile of clothes next to him. He still felt the necessity of warmth, even in all his confusion. Quickly, he dressed himself, keeping care never to turn his back to the strangers. In the back of his mind, a little voice told him he ought to be ashamed to be seen naked, but he was too preoccupied by whether his onlookers wanted to harm him, than to worry about what they thought of him. That done, he straightened up.
Although knowing appearances were deceiving, the man seemed the most dangerous, and fixed his eyes on him first. His memories gave him a name immediately, but he couldn't remember who this man was. Alabaster. His presence was ominous.
Now he gazed upon the girl. Her face was veiled, but everything about her was familiar. Her height, the way her hair still looked beautiful in tangles, the way she held her hands to her breast, the exact shade of her wings... Hatred rose up within him, as torrents and torrents of memories wreaked havoc in his mind, all showing him that she was his foe, a cursed enemy, someone who wanted to watch him suffer.
He darted at her furiously. He didn't even have time to wonder again at his strength and steadiness before he grabbed a hold on her. She gasped, and cowered, but his hands clasped around her neck. She didn't struggle, but fell limp at his touch. He wanted to see her face as she died; her eyes dim as they realized tormenting him was the cost of her life. He pulled the veil off. Her eyes were wide and filled with water. None of that made him sympathize with the bitch.
But it was her grey eyes that reminded him that he should be enchanted. He should have been embracing her, not killing her. His hands shouldn't be able to murder her.
It meant he was free.
Immediately, he dropped her. He was tied to her no longer. He would not do anything more to do with her, not even kill her. If he killed her, she would forever be a part of him. And that was everything he didn't want. He stepped back from her trembling form and turned to Alabaster. She was clearly of no import to him, as he had not tried stop Caydryn.
"Why have you brought me here?" His voice was soft and calm. Caydryn thanked his gods that it did not betray his confusion, his wonder, his horror. Caydryn was a Faerie King, and he would not appear weak to Alabaster. Memories came again, stories of a dark he-monster with no capabilities of mercy. Alabaster wasn't here to welcome him home; he was here to get a profit. Whether that profit was him, or something completely else, he didn't know.

         Jaxin's eyes were blank, as if they were made of glass. Somewhere, far away, he could hear Faye's voice, calling to him. And yet, there he was still, with the battle cries all around him and the dried blood on his hands, the souls of the innocent slipping right through his fingers.
The lives he had taken.
"Brother." he heard her say again. Faye, he thought, it is only Faye. Slowly, tantalisingly, he detached himself from the massacre and the screams, the pain flowing all around him. Jaxin's eyes became clear with colour again as he blinked at her. It was only for a brief moment, however, before he embraced her in his arms.
"I am so glad you stayed out of this..." he whispered, careful not to press too tightly on her own dark wings. "You are not meant for the sights of death and agony, Faye." Absent-mindedly he noticed the red patches of blood on her dress. "What happened to you, my Sister? Were you...please tell me you were not injured? We must call on Feardia for this. I could heal you myself if the wound is not fatal...come, Sister. Let me see."