Chapter 1

I hadn’t thought things through.

I’m not sure how long I can continue to move either. My wounds, once a distant pain with the adrenaline pumping, bring fresh tears to my eyes. No place on my body is free from abuse. My body aches in places I didn’t know could hurt, and my muscles weaken as blood oozes from my open gashes. With the pain, comes the flashes of my past, which may be the worst blow of all.

Just like that, I'm back in the pit, watching the horrible nightmare play in my head. As much as I try, I can't hold back the memory. 

I stoop as close to the soiled dirt as I can. Whimpers escape my closed lips as the strikes cross my back, legs, and arms. Every mark against my worn flesh makes me wince. Tears fall. I can’t bring myself to look my abuser, I can’t stomach the sight of the person who’s inflicting my current pain. My mind rebels against the impossibility of today. This never should have happened, it’s all my fault. I made them this way. All because I went home. I should have run and not looked back. I try to fool myself into thinking it would never have ever been that simple.

My mind needs rest. It’s all too much for me to see and feel. If I can just close my eyes and sleep, it will be all over, like a bad dream. Then when I stir awake, my parents will be standing over me with a cup of warm milk to chase away the lingering nightmare. They’ll greet me with warm smiles filled with love. They will look the same as they always had before, not what they have become now.

Reality crashes down upon my weak frame with another blow to my back. I hear the distant laughter and my thoughts shift. I curse Them all. They did this. Everything is Their fault. If They didn’t exist, I would be free. If They didn’t steal us all, none of this would be happening.

Rage builds like a hot fire in my gut. I start to feed the flame inside in the only way I know how. But before I can release more of my fury, another lash against my back leaves me gasping for air. The pain is immense and overwhelming. That one will scar. It’s an odd thing for a cut to scar; I wonder why it does that. How deep does the wound need to go before it’s etched into the skin for all to see? Why do boys and men brag about such things? It’s strange.

The laughter has subsided and I realize the abuse has stopped. Too faint to lift my head, I stretch my neck to the left where the horrid and deformed creatures once stood. Now, the four grotesque, forms lay broken in the dirt, whose bodies have long gone cold. I can no longer recollect why they look familiar. I can no longer recall why I get the sense I should be feeling something for them, either. Instead, I feel blissfully empty at last.

I’m yanked to my feet and, unable to hold myself up, I sag under the hand pinching my arm. Suddenly the dirt walls disappear and I’m being dragged to my personal Hellvian. My already quivering body convulses in terror as the familiar walls of my prison surround me. I should have known my sweet relief, my beloved emptiness, wouldn’t last long. No matter what I do, that numbness remains just out of reach.

We make a sharp turn to the left and I squeak in panic. I don’t want to go back there. Shit, I can’t. My mind isn’t ready yet. I always get time in the cell before going back. All too soon, I’m once again strapped to the metal table in the middle of the room. The equipment around me beeps and hums in a terrifying lullaby, warning me of what’s to come.

With a snap, I’m free of the memory.

I gasp and stumble to my knees, shaking my head frantically as if the action alone could bury my past. Trying to slow my breathing and calm my thoughts, I breathe in for five seconds, hold for three, and release for seven seconds. I do this repeatedly, until my breathing finally steadies. Instead, I push my focus toward creating a plan of survival. Damn it, Alanna, don’t think about it anymore. It’s done. I’m free. Settling my mind on the task at hand, helps keep me from wandering into the darkness of my memories. I just need to focus. What’s the plan? What first?

The most important thing right now is finding food. It’s been two days since I left and I’ve only had a few run-ins with edible berries. It’s not nearly enough to tide me over and I’ll soon wither away to nothing. Without my bow, I can’t easily hunt either. I suppose the best bet is to find a human village, but I’m lost in unknown territory. It’s my biggest problem right now, and I can’t think about anything else or I’ll break down. That’s not something I can afford. One thing at a time, Alanna.

I look towards the sky, searching for the sun’s position. It’s only late morning, and that leaves plenty of daylight for walking. Unseen wildlife rustle the fallen leaves in the distance, and calls sound off in the forest.

Unsure of where to start, I march forward. Anywhere but behind me is a good enough direction for me. My pace is slow thanks to the long breaks I’m forced to take. I walk for most of the morning, frequently checking the position of the sun.

Exhaustion causes me to falter so I veer to the left, stumbling toward a large rock resting amongst fallen leaves. Sitting down gingerly, I steady my breathing and keep my eyes peeled for anything or anyone. All that’s visible is the slightly twisted trunks of the dol trees and their ever-growing limbs, reaching for the sun. At this time of year, their leaves are golden orange and brown, already starting to fall to the forest floor.

On my third rotation around the forest, I spot a small inkberry bush stocked with ripe fruit to the left, half hidden behind a large dol tree. The small green bush—which reaches no higher than my shins—is littered with small black berries.

I ease up as fast as I can and reach for the berries. Ecstatic at finally finding food again, I hastily snatch a few and shove them in my mouth. I barely stop to chew before I’m shoving more berries in. After my fourth mouthful, I pause my frantic eating to pull my thoughts together. I have no idea when I might find more food so I need to be conservative with my portions.

Resigned to only feeling a slight ease in the hunger pains, I tuck my shirt into my pants to act as a small pack. After the rest of the berries are safely nestled between my stomach and shirt, I resume my rest on the rock.

A short time later, it becomes apparent something is wrong. My hands feel clammy, and sweat is beading above my brow. My stomach is churning and it’s not from the hunger pains this time. The wave of nausea is sudden and strong.

Next thing I know, I am emptying my meager stomach contents on the forest floor. On my hands and knees, my stomach continues to twist painfully. Shit, those weren’t inkberries after all. What a stupid mistake I made. Nightberries, while almost identical to the inkberries, have one small noticeable difference to them. In my rush for food, I failed to notice the shiny coating and instead ate poisonous fruit.

Eventually the vomiting ends and the cramps ease. I untuck my shirt and watch as the small black berries roll away. Slowly lowering myself to the ground, I curl into a ball. The ordeal left me weaker and more exhausted than before. While I would like nothing more than to sleep the rest of the day away, I need to find somewhere less open and exposed. Harnessing the small amount of energy I have left, I crawl for another fifty paces until I spot a small patch of dol trees clumped closely together. While not ideal, it’s the best I have to work with right now and I’m in no position to complain.

I wedge myself in the tight space and lean against the bark. My last thought before falling asleep is how much I hate Them for doing this to me and how much I hate the Gods for letting this happen.

****

By some miracle in the form of poisonous berries, I managed to finally sleep through the night. I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than a few hours at a time. It’s bad enough my days are haunted with the past, but so are my dreams. Nights are the worst. The darkness torments me and the shadows of the night taunt me. There’s no escape from it. This constant fear and exhaustion is chipping away at me, bit by bit. I feel as if I’m losing my mind. Constantly looking over my shoulder for danger makes me feel as though there’s no place left on this planet, Bylir, that’s safe for me. It’s never ending.

This is not at all like the adventures I’d planned as a kid. I always thought it would be filled with joy and elation, not fear and sorrow. Those books I used to read built life up to be something wonderful and magical. It was all an elegant and elaborate lie, told by people with no personal experience in the matter.

I had always enjoyed getting lost in my books. Being transported to another world, another realm, filled with great adventures, was my favorite thing to do. They were a way out, an escape from a safe and boring reality.

The reality that my life may never turn out to be one of great adventures and unknowns, used to strike hard and fast. In some ways, my temporary escape into books was actually worse. It could never be eternal escape. Yet reading on was all I could think about doing. With a life like I used to have, most couldn’t afford the time it took to invest in novels, nor could they afford the sweet and tempting escape it provided. To the villagers, this was just another reason to label me the Village Oddity. 

Village life was at times harsh and unforgiving. Every day was the same routine over and over, a vicious cycle of monotony. Expectations were strongly in place for everything that was said or done in the village. The need to please those around me was often overwhelming, suffocating, and exasperating. There was always a fear of failure and taking chances. I was afraid if I took a chance and dropped everything in my life in search of an adventure, I would only stand to lose everything instead. I felt trapped in a life I never wanted.

This endless cycle of doubt and hesitation only left me feeling like a cornered venhir, edgy and restless. It often led to impatience and frustration. Without an outlet for release, I lashed out at the ones I loved the most, my family.

It left an ever-widening gap between us all. Every year the mounting tension steadily grew and consumed us slowly. This instigated arguments, resentment, and reckless acts of my part. The need for an adventure, this restlessness, this suffocation, and this discord, perhaps spurred on my stupidity. Or perhaps my curiosity combined with my awful luck, is the reason why my life was brutally cut down all that time ago.

If there was a way to go back to those ignorant and restless days, I would give anything to do so. I want nothing more than to relive those simple days just for another chance to see my family again. I regret everything that happened, and yet now it is far too late. Nothing I do will change that fact. My thoughts are swirling out of control. My rage and guilt consume me.

My memories stir to life.