Chapter 28

As I enter the office once more, I notice the door across the way and decide to see where it leads. Inside sits a gaudy bedroom with fur rugs and bright tapestries scattered throughout. The owner had terrible tastes.

A mini living room sits to the left as soon as you enter. To the back lies a huge bed with curtains draping from the ceiling, a bizarre sight. Next to the bed is a small end table, and I search it for anything useful. A small leather journal is the only thing sitting in the drawer. I pull it out and slowly leaf through the pages, only to find it’s written in another language.

Deciding to hold onto it, I stuff it down my shirt and secure it, determined to keep it from Malik, the damn cheater. It must be important if it’s the only book in this manor. After a thorough look around the bedroom and finding nothing important to grab, I move back through the office and out the door, making my way towards the living room.

It’s the one place I have yet to explore, and the one I’m looking forward to the least. As I enter, all the nervous chatter instantly dies away. Feeling my face red with heat, I focus on my feet. The attention is too much and too suffocating. The shocked gazes of the talnarins are confusing and overwhelming. Just as I consider escaping back to solitude, a small hand grips my own.

I jerk my head back and find a young child about seven years old, staring up at me with a huge toothless grin. She has muddy brown hair that’s lumped together from days of neglect. She has streaks of dirt all across her face as well. What draws my attention the most though, is the unearthly yellow glow of her eyes. This is the first time I’ve seen a talnarin child and it’s a shocking sight. Innocence pours from her in waves, but much like the adults of her species, something else, something older, peeks out from within.

Confused as to why she’s seeking my attention, I simply stare in shock for a few tense moments. Unaccustomed to touch, I try to slip my hand free with no luck. Despite the little girl’s size, she easily keeps hold of my sweating hand. My nerves, already frayed, jump to attention the longer she remains silent. Then, without a word, she tugs my arm twice.

Unable to handle the unwanted touch any longer I say, “Let go. Now.” My voice comes out harsher than intended, and guilt leeches into me. She’s a child, I shouldn’t be so harsh. I open my mouth to correct myself when she tugs again. I snap my mouth closed and allow her to pull me forward.

As she guides me through the crowd, chatter slowly resumes once more. We pull to a stop, facing the far back wall where three people huddle around each other. I manage to finally pull my hand free and a small sigh of relief escapes me.

The little talnarin child plops back against the wall next to the huddling group. Upon closer inspection, I see the one centered in the middle of the group is the young human Ginger.

She looks worse for wear, but at least she’s conscious and safe. There are already bruises forming on her face and arms, with blood crusting the top of her forehead and bottom of her lip. Ginger leans heavily against a young man. He looks to be in his thirties. He gently holds her up while a woman, who appears about the same age as the man, tends to her wounds with a cloth. I look between the three of them and easily see the resemblance. Perhaps they are Ginger’s mother and father.

At my approach, they turn to look up at me with tired faces. The man looks at me hesitantly, while the woman looks outright hostile. It causes me to take a step back.

The woman stands up and places herself in front of the young girl. She stretches her thin arms out and grips the front of my shirt in her hands. Her grip is weak and her face is scrunched up in pain, but hostility still finds a way out. Her face is bruised and bloody as well, her form slightly hunched over. Just as I’m about to pry her hands free, a quiet voice whispers out, “No.”

Instantly the woman releases me and crouches back down to inspect Ginger carefully. The poor child whimpers in pain when the woman’s hands wander over her stomach. “If you had just left her be, she wouldn’t have suffered like this. It’s your fault she’s in so much pain. Had you kept quiet, they would have simply started their tests again, not beat her. You did this. You hurt my baby.” The woman’s voice cracks, her eyes focused on the child. The man next to her looks at me gently, and with pity. I can understand the anger and hostility, but the pity throws me.

After a few seconds, the woman’s words finally sink in. It was my fault then, what happened to the child. Had I just let the talnarins be, they wouldn’t have beat her. But I couldn’t just stand by and watch them drag her away. It’s not in me to do nothing when I see people, especially children, suffer.  What was I supposed to do, leave her to the mercy of those bastards? Besides, I wasn’t the only one who called out, was I? There was at least one other voice that begged them to stop, right? Or did I imagine everything?

Unsure of what to do, I stand there awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something more. As I watch, the man gently cups the woman’s face and gazes at her patiently.

With a sigh, she grips his hand before glancing at me. “This is your fault.” She pauses briefly before continuing. “But, you also saved her. You saved all of us. So, for that… thank you.” She gives me a hard look before bringing her full attention back to Ginger once more.

The man slowly stands to face me with a small smile on his face. “Thank you for defending our daughter. Thank you for not simply standing by and allowing those men to hurt her. You attempted to stop them and for that I will be forever grateful.” The father inhales a small breath. “We have been here for some time and not once had another tried to step in and save our child. Most simply looked the other way for fear of retribution. And to add to that, you used those powers to set us all free. I’m sorry we have no way to repay you for what you have done for us. The least I can offer you is for you to please sit with us and rest.” He gestures to the corner, watching me patiently. “Perhaps there will come a day when you can visit us in our village. Maybe then we can properly thank you. But for now, please join us.”

Still uncertain, I lower myself to the ground to sit between the talnarin child and Ginger’s father. As soon as my back rests against the wall, I curl my legs up and hug them close.

The other young talnarin child reaches over and gently grasps my hand in hers. I think to pull away, but restrain myself at the last second. She is probably just looking for comfort from another, seeing as the two adults divide all of their attention on their own child and not her.

It makes me wonder where this talnarin child’s parents are, and why she is alone. It breaks my heart to look around and see all the worn and hurting children in this room. Children far outweigh the number of adults present and it makes me question the motive behind this. The age range of taken children appear to be anywhere from six to early adulthood. Was it merely because abducting children took little effort compared to adults?

Perhaps they need children for the experiments. Yet, I wasn’t child when it happened to me, so maybe the testing here is different from what I endured. I pull in a breath in an attempt to gather my courage before asking, “Why did they take you?” Silence meets my ears and I watch as Ginger’s parents freeze.

After a short few seconds, the father searches my face before he sighs softly. “We don’t know. The only time they spoke was when they wished to taunt and torment us.” He gets a far off look in his eyes as he continues. “They never said why they did those tests or what use they had for us, either.”

As I look out upon the crowd of prisoners, I finally notice it. Most of the humans in the room display some sort of abnormality on their person. There are patches of discolored skin on a few, balding heads on others, and slightly malformed limbs on the rest. If one wasn’t looking closely, it’s easily overlooked.

This is how it looked in the beginning stages for those taken by Him too. Even Ginger’s father has discolored skin along his arms. Her mother’s leg is lumped on the side too. I hope it’s not too late for these people. I hope there’s a way to fix them all.

I don’t ask anything more, my mood somber. Instead, I content myself to sit and watch the interactions between these freed captives. Thoughts loop around inside my head, constantly questioning where these people go from here and what their future is like. Perhaps a normal life is no longer possible.

That thought merely breaks my heart as a small hand squeezes my own.