The Beginning
I was five years old, still shocks me that the world fell apart like it did back then in that instant. No one wants to think about their childhood when it's been shrouded in so much pain.
It had always been bad, but no one had expected it to get worse. The thought was inconceivable. "It's not possible"- that's what everyone thought. But the world before Robert Collumns was a heaven compared to this.
The second Robert Collumns took control of Prophet City, though, everyone saw the potential for how it could be, or how it could have been.
To put it simply, we all suddenly saw that we all were in for a ride that we wouldn't enjoy and our thoughts became soaked in the past, amidst the "What ifs". Everyone had a wish, one thought, one thing they'd want to change about that day twenty-one years ago.
Robert Collumns- I could go on for decades about the trouble that monster has done, and it still wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't even cover a quarter of all that he has done. To me; to others; to the entirety of Prophet City- to the world, even. Only 5'4 and the man is in control of it all. Major "short-person" complex, that's my bet.
It hurts to think about the beginning, how this all started. I still jolt awake some nights, screaming in a cold sweat, my fingers grasping onto my arms, over the old scars, the taste of copper lingering in my mouth where I bit my lip or my tongue too hard and bled. One of the kids are always at my bedside when this happens, asking me if I was having a bad dream again. It's common to them; they're used to it by now. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.
They don't know much about it, even Deus, a friendly priest who helps me run this orphanage doesn't know much about my dreams or my past. Just that I'm troubled.
Though, that's putting it lightly.
I blocked out a lot of what happened that day. I still don't think I'm ready to handle it, but a lot of it comes back in my dreams. Every little detail is sharp, with perfect horrifying clarity.
But when I sit there, panting and sweating in my bed, the memories dissipate like smoke.
The known facts of that day, however, are ingrained into everyone's heads.
Robert Collumns had killed all of the official government that had previously ruled over Prophet City, all 34 elected public figures, and all before the sun had crept upon the new day. Before noon, he had already replaced all court officials, judges and police with his own supporters.
My parents both worked with the law, my father was a high-ranking, well-known and beloved judge, while my mother was a regular cop.
The only reason they never saw it coming was because they were taking that week off from their work, since it was my fifth birthday.
We had been at the park. The one, somewhere in the center of the city, the one with the huge statue of a male angel with giant wings unfurled and raised to the sky, every little detailed feather stretched out in the open air. There was a cloth floating around his nude form, making him modest. The whole thing was made out of silver, with gold and platinum inlays. Sometimes, if you were in the right spot, at the right time, the sun would be right above the angel's head, framed by its outstretched wings. It really was a beautiful sight- that statue, however, is a pile of rubble now. All the precious metals were looted from it, nothing but pieces of crumbling rock without a purpose.
We were having a picnic there in the park, in the shade of that huge statue, eating cake and some other treats.
I remember a sound from a little ways away, not knowing what it was, I was alarmed. I didn't know before that day what a gunshot sounded like.
Then… I remember my father collapsing on top of me. I protested until I heard my mother crying and screaming, along with feeling the warmth of the wet blood soaking through my little white sun dress.
It wasn't too long before my mother was killed as well, in the midst of trying to lead me to a safe place. I remember only bits and pieces after that.
The next memory is where I'm laid down on my stomach, in between my parents, my arms outstretched in front of me, trying to pull myself away.
Then- blood and pain so fierce, I passed out for a period of time.
When I woke, my arms were being sewn back onto my body.
The pain was excruciating, threatening to make me faint again, but what kept me up, was the sight of my parents' bodies, decapitated. I could only stare, transfixed and unable to move as I looked at lay before me.
Those bastards had taken their heads, but had generously left my arms.
I couldn't really use them for a year or two, forced to make-do, or try other methods on how to go through day-to-day activities. In this time, I learned to use my feet in place of my hands in some instances, while also learning impressive feats of balance.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still a horrid klutz at times, but it helped.
That wasn't all, though, they took my name along with my parents' heads.
From then on, I was only referred to as "Ashley, of the First Generation".
I'll admit, Collumns had a plan and it was a damned good one. Cruel, ruthless, but exceedingly brilliant- the man was a genius in some senses.
He killed nearly half of the native population of adults who hadn't supported his cause or views. The children were shipped off in masses to the other side of town to camps; all were renamed, traumatized by the events, and unable to even lift a finger against the monstrosity that had crept into our homes. We did as we were asked, we did what we were told. We nodded our heads and did what we could to survive.
Most of us weren't even fifteen yet. But, anyone older than fifteen was sent to a different camp.
I had family and friends before that had all happened.
Now I struggle to even remember their names or how they looked. It's too painful, too much.
I wish it wasn't, though. I wish I could find them all, or to be able to say their names, so that they won't be forgotten, lost to time.
Other things, though, I still remember them like it was yesterday- memories that I'd rather forget one day. I don't see that happening, though.
After a few years, the world, it seemed, had forgotten what it had fallen from, what it had once been. It wasn't much to begin with, but anything would be an improvement at this point.
I'm not saying that Prophet City was wonderful and perfect before Robert Collumns had taken over, but this man- no, this monster, transformed it into a living hell.
That's not a metaphor.
Robert Collumns, in the middle of this take-over, had opened doors to other worlds and dimensions.
I guess you could call my birthplace a sort of "limbo" now.
Sometimes, people from other worlds or dimensions just… appear in mine. Ever wondered where all those kids on the milk cartons really are?
They're here, because he bought them here.
Young children are his favorite citizens- Too young to fight back, too old to ignore the world around them, but still pure, innocent, and untouched. Blank slates- free to be imposed upon and molded. Perfect in every way for his plans.
It makes me sick, but the others from the First Generation, have become numb to the horrors around us. They've come to accept their fate with a dull and dead look in their eyes.
It's disturbing to me, how easily people give up. It makes me sick.
I'm not like that.
I refuse to accept this. This world is hell for me, and I'll never ignore the evil in it.
But, to appease our ruler, and to mollify my own goals, a year ago, I was allowed to run an orphanage, for unassigned or discarded persons. For children or people that Robert Collumns either saw as too much trouble to train or they wouldn't believe what he told them when he greeted them after pulling them from their worlds. Or… they just… popped into existence outside of the assigned "door" into Prophet City. No one knows how this happens- it's not supposed to, and it causes much more confusion than one might expect.
Either way, I've ended up with over twenty-five children on my doorstep, all of them under sixteen years old, all of them instill me with a maternal sense that I doubt Collumns could even begin to understand, or want to.
Half a year ago, Deus showed up on my doorstep, told me he came from some world called "Earth"… or something, least, that's what he told me. Had a wife and two kids and was in charge of a large body of people in a "church", but just phased into this world, outside of that door. I'm not sure why he appeared here, but he did, and he became our priest, whatever that means.
He told us a lot about his god, read to us about it, wrote about it. Told us so many stories, and thinks he's here for a reason. In his view, he told me that he thinks that if he got us to become "Christians" that it might help our predicament.
I don't have the heart to tell him that he was probably just a hiccup in the process. I think he knows, though, in some small way at least.
He's a good man, Deus. That's all I'm supposed to call him by, won't give me any other name. He's a bit older than me, and surely a man of impressively tall stature, compared to my 5'6 nature. Has wavy, maintained auburn hair and crystal blue eyes. Thin but a healthy build. All and all, he's a reasonable man, amicable as well, with good guidance in his ways. I envy his assuredness in his notion that he has a reason, a calling here.
Though I'm not sure on this thing…. "Christianity"…
We've both been trying to pull our own weight, really. He helps me take care of the children, and I appreciate that more than he'll ever know.
The children; I could never get tired of talking about them. Each of them are so special, unique and so sweet. The youngest, Grace Lavender, is only four years old, and is a bit of a little genius. She loves reading books, and she's not choosy on what she wants to go through. I'm not joking when I say that I've seen her read a dictionary out loud to her doll, Jezebel.
Her sister, Genevieve Lavender, is six years old (And three-quarters) and is the exact opposite of her sister. She's much more active and if she can't play one game, she'll play another, though she is quite capable of creating her own games. She has a hard time going to sleep, and so I was quite glad when we all found out that all she needed was for Grace to read something out loud. I kid you not- the younger sister reads the older one to sleep. It's adorable and it fills me with a kind of happiness that I just can't seem to explain.
That's only two of the twenty-five children that I guard with my life. They truly are a blessing to a person like me. Deus is a blessing as well, though, I'd wish that he'd stop trying to teach all of us about what it is that he believes in. There is still so much that man has to learn about the world that he now resides in, though it is hard, due to the fact that, somewhere out there, he still has a family. That's a good and bad thing, I suppose. It keeps him focused so that he might learn how to get back to them, but at the same time, he's always daydreaming. It's a double-edged sword. I don't envy him for it in any way.
I hope he does find his family again, though.
I've never heard of it happening before, though, a person being able to leave Prophet City back for their place of origin.
I hope it is possible, for his sake.
He was a bit of a mess when I first found him on my doorstep; he had apparently been yanked from his world only moments after his wife had given birth to their second child, a baby girl. But, luckily, it seemed like the children I watch over gave him some comfort, but at times, he still seems to be lost in his own little world. It's easy to tell when he's thinking about his home- his family back in some other world.
Now he helps me, and honestly, I don't know what I'd do without the man.
I just wish he wouldn't ask so many questions.
I can't just humor him with his every question about my scars, or my odd eye color, or the fact that Collumns somehow created doorways into other worlds. I don't want to know how big Prophet City is, and it's the only civilization that I know of in this place. I don't know how he and I speak the same language, or why it always seems like it is about to rain here now and days. The sky hasn't been clear for years. It's always overcast.
As I said, I don't want to put up with questions from him most times. Because, frankly, the man knows exactly how to ask the questions that would require a response that would include an emotional input from me, which is something I reserve for the children, really. It's rather annoying.
I'm not sure how to phrase it to get him to stop asking questions, and nothing seems to work, really.
The children are catching on, though. And that's something I don't know how to process. It's good that they're starting to adopt his questions into their heads, because some day, they can find out those questions on their own, but for right now, all they're doing is asking me these questions.
I'll give them some semblance of an answer, though, since they're just kids. It wouldn't do any good to give them silence to their questions.
I'm not saying my answers are true, though.... unless I suddenly find out that I really was born with silver eyes... which I know isn't true- my eyes were originally blue; I'll explain that later.
This is my family, for right now, we're getting along just fine... but things are about to change for the worse, I can feel in some deep recess in my body.
I can only hope that what is to come will not take away the last motivations I have left to live in this godforsaken world.
CHAPTER ONE
Spots of Blood
Our little story starts in the center of Prophet City. The orphanage is on the edge of the outskirts of the city, but I have to go in deeper to get basic items for the children, Deus, and myself. All I need to get are a few groceries, and then go back to the orphanage as quickly as I can, dodging glances from other citizens as I go.
If the name "Ashley" is called, I don't hear it, and with the blood rushing in my ears, I try to walk as fast as I can without making a spectacle of myself.
I'm afraid of being spotted. I'm afraid of being hauled in, in front of that tyrant bastard. I'm sure if he sees me again this month, it won't be nearly as easy to pull myself back from as last time. My own mortality becomes too apparent when I'm in his grasp.
To explain that statement, after I was put into that camp- after I was renamed, and parentless, along with the fact that my arms were little more than useless for a time, only allowing me to wriggle my fingers. Anything other than that was too strenuous for my recovering limbs. I still managed to be a thorn in his side, though. I didn't want him to think that he had won everyone over. I refused to let him think that he had everyone bent over backwards to accommodate his every command. I refused to let my fear and trauma control me.
Obviously this never ended well for me.
This led to the fact that my irises are silver now, and the fact that I have three black dots in a row, under my left eyebrow, and three white dots in the same formation, above my brow both are painful tattoos I earned long before I could really strengthen my pain tolerance. This is why my body is covered in a mesh of scars that intersect and cross over each other. All I can say to this is that I am glad that I was young enough to heal quickly enough from it all. If it wasn't for that, I'd probably be dead.
All and all, the man hates me now, and I have enough sense to know that I should keep mostly in hiding from him. I was honestly surprised when he agreed to let me even open this odd little orphanage.
I all but ran when I had retrieved what I needed from the store, when I ran across a body, collapsed in an alley across the street. It wasn't anything new, there were always some reason for there to be bodies just... strewn about the city, though something struck me about this one- Something vaguely familiar about it.
I grew worried and I grew cautious, but I needed to be sure of a sneaking suspicion in my head.
So, I crossed the street and headed for the alley, to check the body that I could now see was face-down in a copious puddle of its own dried blood, though I could not see a wound from what I could see in its current position. It was female, with a hat pulled tightly over its head- some kind of stocking cap and a form-fitting business suit, almost as if she had accidentally pulled on a suit that was two sizes too small for her. I didn't want to say it… but the woman looked like she worked the streets.
My hand reached out, trembled slightly before pulling the hat away from the woman's head, and a rush of blond curls spilled out from it. The hair gave her away immediately.
It was Mary. A woman from my generation, though she had been two years older than me. The last time I had talked to her was months ago, when I had argued with her over the state of Prophet City in some stupid little ...grocery store but she was scared... too scared to even think of gaining a view apart from Robert Collumns'. I don't blame her at all, but I couldn't bear talking to someone who tried to empathize with that man and turn a blind eye to their own world. Especially one who had let herself become so lowly. It was just too much to watch her go through life the way she did.
Now she's dead, and I'm sitting there next to the body, my knees stained in her drying blood, it cakes my jeans, the feeling of the fabric soaking up her blood sent chills over my body. I wish I had talked to her again before this. Our last conversation ended with me calling her a sheep and a whore to this new world.
I turned her over slowly, trying to find the cause of her death... and perhaps to make sure that it was really her. But there it was- dark blue eyes and a small up-turned nose along with ruby-red lips and porcelain skin. It was her alright. With a face that immediately told me of how she had felt in her last moments. Lips stretched away from teeth and her eyes were wide, in shock or fear. She had died in agonizing pain.
She had been stabbed in the chest- repeatedly.
I looked around for a moment, and then suddenly spotted something on the dark gray brick wall next to the body. A paper was plastered there, this is how it read:
Attention citizens,
It has come to my attention that some of the First Generations are not as happy with our city as I'd like.
So I'd like your help in rounding them up for an execution. There will be a sizable monetary reward for each that are turned in, as well as a few other gifts and rewards for your loyalty.
That bastard was really starting to work my last nerve.
So that's it. You cause him too much trouble, and he gets you killed.
That's just how it works now and days, and somehow, my old friend got the short end of the stick. She was just trying to survive this hellhole, and they killed her. Wonderful. If they can kill a girl like Mary, they'd have no qualms about killing me. I'm sort of... well-known for going against Robert Collumns' rules.
I grabbed my groceries, and ran all the way back to the orphanage. If I left the house again after this, I'd have to wear something that would conceal my identity. Damn it all. Damn it all. I'm sick of hiding and dodging glances.
I can't even really allow myself to cry over this after all that had come before it.
It's almost like it didn't process in my head.
I wish it could, but I had enough to worry about. I have twenty-five children, plus Deus to occupy my skull for the moment.
As I entered the house, I could hear Deus orating some verses, probably from that book again, the "Bible", as well as children playing. My heart was still pounding from discovering Mary. I almost didn't hear anything else but my own body frantically trying to calm down.
No, I wasn't sad about her death, I was frightened.
Not for myself, but for the fact that I have basically twenty-six people depending on me. If I die, there isn't a soul in the city who would help them that I could think of. I need to figure out a way to safely introduce them to this world in case something happens to me, but I hope that doesn't need to happen. But it's true, no one would help them in this current state.
Although, I can't even muster it into my body to be regretful for anything that I have done to deserve this, all I wanted was to have done more.
There isn't much a five year old can do to a grown man. There isn't much a ten year old can do to a grown man either. When I was sixteen, I was allowed to leave the camps. Most of my generation, however, stayed in the camps for four more years. I don't blame them one bit, if it hadn't been for the situation and my anger and drive for revenge, I would have stayed as well.
There was nothing left for me in those camps. There were too many reasons for me to leave. It was… too much to be directly under that man's thumb.
I chew on this thought for a while as I stocked the kitchen with what I bought, though it didn't help me, after finishing my tasking with the groceries, I was still in quite a state, trying to figure out what to do.
I decided on taking a bath to calm my nerves.
A couple children shot past me on my way to the bathroom, and I scolded them for running, but cast a gruff smile in their direction. It was all I could manage today, but they understood. I'm sure they even understood the bloodstains on my jeans. After a year, I guess these children got used to me. They got used to my weird little behaviors and quirks, and I'm sure they've grown to accept this life. There's nothing else for them anyways.
The small group walked away slowly, and I could hear them speed up again once they were out of view, though it wasn't worth the trouble of chasing them down and scolding them again.
I continued on to the bathroom and closed the door behind myself. The mirror was a little dirty and foggy, so I rubbed at it slightly with my forearm, my skin covered in the fabric from my jacket, and as a reflection came to view, I brushed the messy black bangs away from my silver eyes and looked at myself for a moment, then noticed the smear of blood on my cheek. I must have touched it with one of my hands; they were probably bloodstained too… It was a wonder that the children didn't fear me. I question that sometimes, though, I never get many answers on it. I don't understand how they can look at me without fear sometimes. I suppose that is the beauty of children, though. Always trying to strip away the fear and the evil from a person to try and see what lies beneath. It was a blessing and a curse, though, because I'm sure that they didn't understand many of the nuances of my daily life, or why I had to hide when I went out.
I touched the mirror for a moment, and then shook my head, remembering too late that my fingers were smudged with drying blood, and then wiped it away from the mirror with a nearby towel before shedding my jacket, then my shirt.
I turned away from the mirror before I peeled away my bra. Then I took off my shoes and socks, and my pants, and anything I had left to preserve modesty. Free of every stitch, I started up the bath while I combed out my black hair until it spilled down over my shoulders and to my waist without any knots before I pulled it back into a bun while I slipped quietly into the comforting warm water.
It felt good against my grimy skin, and I felt myself relaxing. My eyelids started to droop and I felt myself slide deeper into the water. At last, the surface of the water was above my head and I was calmly holding my breath. For a moment, I was content, and then the door was opened, and suddenly my body was being pulled out of the tub of water and unceremoniously dumped onto the ground by a very panicked-looking Deus. Great.
I'm not even going to ask what the man is so worried about. He usually takes care of that for me.
"What the hell are you doing?" I heard him ask, and without even moving to speak, he continued on. Here comes the speech. "Why on earth are you so covered in this dirt and… is that blood? Ashley, what have you been doing today?!" Yeah, no one knows my real name anymore, as I said before, I don't… I can't bear to have it known right now. Either way, the man looks pretty worked up, then after a few moments, he finally seemed to remember that I was naked.
"Honestly, I worry when you go out- Sometimes it feels like I don't know if you're even coming back!" He spouted while he tossed a towel at me and turned away, and then seemed shocked when I crawled back into the bathtub, towel around myself while I laid back into the water. I still didn't answer, but that's only because I know he's not done talking.
"Ashley... Some of the children… said you looked… sad before you went into the bathroom… and… you were completely submerged in the water when I came in… and you're not talking… Are you depressed?" The man asked as he sat down, his back against the tub, facing away from me. I suppose that was more comfortable. I didn't really care if he saw my body or not- there were worse things in the world.
"No. I'm just tired. It's been a long day, and it's not even over yet." I respond quietly before grabbing the small bar of soap on the edge of the tub and gently start to run it over my skin. The film of dirt that rested there was cleaned away rather quickly as I worked the soap over my arms, then dipped them into the water, watching as the dirt clouded the liquid for a moment before settling. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine." I hear myself trying to assuage his fears. No, I'm not suicidal in the least, I know that much. I don't mention that I found an old friend murdered, or the fact that I'm going to have to go into hiding, since my life is more or less in danger now.
I should have gotten more groceries.
"You know, you can talk to me, Ashley… I won't judge you." Deus spoke quietly; his tone was dead-serious. I'm sure I could tell him everything, and that he wasn't lying that he wouldn't judge me.
But I'm pretty certain that it would scare him. He's frightened enough by this world. I wouldn't make that adjustment harder for him. Who knows if he'll ever get out of here- so I'd rather keep him and the children in the dark for a while longer…
"I kno- My words are cut short as I hear one of the children calling out my name, and I rise from the tub, drying my body off with a different towel, hoping that I could get back to cleaning myself after I tended to whatever I was being called for. Wrapping the new towel around myself, I lock eyes with Deus for a moment, and somehow, I think he knows that I'm keeping information from him and the children… I think he has an inkling of an idea of what I might have gone through.
I walk out of the room and head towards where I heard my name. I find one of the children near the door, looking at it uncertainly. I felt my hackles rising and my heart started thundering in my chest. Perhaps it was just paranoia, but after all this time, I have a sixth sense about when my luck's about to hit rock bottom. Children are a good indicator of it as well. Normally they just come get me if someone's at the door, they've never called me while they're standing there, like some little miniature guards.
"Sarah, take the rest of the children, go into the back rooms, alright?" I asked quietly to the little girl that had stood there and waited for me, offering a bit of a kinder smile, and absentmindedly, I hope that I remembered to clean that spot of blood off of my cheek, then lick a finger to rub at it, just in case.
The girl nods at me, firing one last look at the door before gathering up the rest for me, doing as I asked. As I said- They know me well enough at this point. That wasn't a request, and she knew that I was on edge. They're good kids and know when not to push me. I fucking love those little brats, and I mean that in the most endearing way possible.
While the children relocate, I spy through the little hole in the door at my would-be-guest, only to find one of Robert Collumns' men outside my door. He was wearing one of those all-black uniforms, with a white stripe on his right arm which meant he was one of the upper class of the officers. Wonderful, great, all I need now is a summons to Robert Collumns' place. That would really make my day perfect. Really.
I swore quietly under my breath at my own sarcastic thoughts then sigh as I watch him knock on my front door.
I walked back the way I came, back to the bathroom and swore again before I spoke as I passed by the room and went into the bedroom, changing quickly into any clothes that were within reach. "Deus, get my gun from the armory- get the one I got for you, too, and come with me." I spoke in an urgent, hushed tone while I circle back towards the front door, listening as I heard the man knock and listening as I heard Deus rummaging through one of the closets near my room, which I had nicknamed the "armory", he got my gun, and I heard him lifting his from its place on the wall, coming back towards me.
Deus followed me quietly back towards the door as I heard the man's voice on the other side of the door, muffled. Another knock and he speaks again, this time I understood.
"Hope Chain, AKA "Ashley of the First Generation", please step outside, I wish to speak to you." His voice was calm and even; though, there was an underlying tone that I understood. If I didn't comply, he wouldn't be too upset if he had to force his way in and pull me out himself.
"Hope Chain?" Deus asks quietly, his voice was sharp and distrusting, and I waved him off, checking my gun then cocked the hammer. I wasn't in a mood for this today. I nearly felt like firing the gun right now.
"Come back later? I'm in the middle of reading the children a story before they take a nap." I call out through the door, and I hear him knocking again-is he deaf?
"I'm sorry, but I can't come back later, I'm a busy man, please step outside, this shouldn't take too long." My hackles are rising again, and I motion Deus to one side, out of sight should one come in through the front door, then I just barely crack the door open and flash a smile at the man, only to have a gun pressed against the tender flesh of my throat. "Please, step outside. No weapons." The statement was commanded of me with an assured grin, and my gun clattered to the floor after I released the hammer and made sure it was safe again. Then I came out of my house, closing the door behind me, looking the man in the eyes with no ounce of fear, I would not allow this man to see how on edge I was today. He wasn't allowed that privilege.
He led me to the side of the building and searched me, patting me down silently before turning me around and putting me at gunpoint again. I'm sad to say this, but I'm so used to my life being threatened that it barely fazes me anymore. He was a quiet man, but direct, and I suppose I was thankful for that, as opposed to having to endure the officers that believed themselves to be chosen by Robert Collumns due to their entitlement of the job. They were truly stupid. I usually tended to cause more trouble with those types, though; I didn't really know who it caused more trouble for, them or me.
"He wished to speak to you in a couple weeks and commanded me to send you this message." The man spoke as he dug out a piece of paper from his nearly pure-black outfit while he continued to hold me at gunpoint as I quietly read it to myself, almost acting oblivious of the gun inches from my body. I tried to imagine I was somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful, some place where I felt safe.
I then mentally cursed again.
Hope Chain,
I hope this reaches you in good time. I will require another visit from you in the near future. I've heard that you've been causing problems again, and I suppose I have to rectify this. How much longer do you intend on rebelling until you see that I merely exercise the same power that a parent would over a child?
I will admit something, you're not the only one, and I'm getting rather tired of it.
This city needs discipline.
But I've done things for you that you shouldn't take for granted. I could have said "no" to your proposal to open up a little orphanage. Keep that in mind.
R. Collumns
Damn it.
CHAPTER TWO
Board Games
"So does this mean that I'm omitted from that handbill I saw on the wall?" I asked, feeling around for some kind of lenience, gesturing to the letter slowly, only to feel the cold metal of the gun press against my throat and then smoothly slid up my skin, to under my chin. I heard a small bark of laughter. I was wrong, I had misjudged, he obviously was one of the followers that believed that he was chosen for this job. His obnoxious behavior was only starting, and I was already feeling like I needed to cause trouble.
"No, he wanted this to be fun. If you survive, you are required to have an audience with him." I heard the reply, and I saw the man smile, but I was taken back when I saw that his eyes were silver like mine… curious. Normally Robert Collumns didn't experiment on his followers like this. It was rather interesting to me to see this man with the same eyes that I had.
At least they hadn't come to kill me outright today.
"Alright; Now, is there anything else that you came for? I can go and set up the children to be able to take care of themselves for a moment if something else is needed of me." I offered, trying to force myself to be nice for the sake of the children that resided in this orphanage. If I didn't offer, or if I wasn't as polite as could be, it would only cause trouble to the children. Over the years, I'd get varying responses from this, though, mostly they just departed, and I was hoping this case would follow the trend.
If only I could be that lucky.
"Actually, it has been a long travel from Collumns' grand house, and I'm quite famished and thirsty. I'd be quite pleased if I could sate those needs before I depart." The man stated with a greedy smile- as if he really was hungry and thirsty, it was just some ruse, just something to show how they can do whatever they want, and I can protest and cause trouble, but I can't stop them. Obviously, they must have known that I just went to the store today. This has happened once before. They eat as much as they can, to make sure that I have to get more sooner than later, hoping the world will bring me to their ruler. An ironic twist of fate, it would be, if I was brought to my doom by the people I was trying to protect.
"I have more than enough to share, come inside and take your fill." I commented while I led the way back as soon as I feel the gun's touch drift from my skin. I couldn't even afford to be sarcastic at this point due to the situation. I have to think of the children's wellbeing. To keep them safe, I will go along with this insanity and let these people into my home. To eat my family's food, so that I will have to go shopping for more food, while trying to keep myself from being taken away to be executed- all for their entertainment.
As I entered with Robert Collumns' man trailing behind me, I called out for Deus and told him to keep the children entertained in the back rooms until I could tell him that it's alright to let them out. I believe that I heard some type of affirmative answer from Deus, and then led the man to the kitchen and gestured to the space, allowing him free reign and proceeded to watch him gorge himself on as much food as he could take and took a few steps back, standing in the entrance of the kitchen, trying to keep myself calm and quell the anger that was rising inside of me.
It was a sickening sight to watch.
He finally departed after eating about half of what I had just bought from the store and I sighed then yelled to Deus that it was alright to come out. The kitchen, however, was a mess from that man- he ate like a pig. There was discarded food and waste all over the counters and tables. Still, I was merely happy that he didn't eat everything, it could have been worse.
I made a small meal for all of the kids and then took Deus aside, knowing that we needed to talk. This had been a long time coming, really. We walked in silence to another room and I paused to see if he wanted to say anything just yet. The man was quiet, but had a murderous expression on his face before he finally started, thinking his words over carefully before saying them out loud.
"Are you finally going to tell me why that man called you "Hope Chain", because I want answers- Who are you, anyways?" The man spat at me. I couldn't blame him; this is a lot for one person to take. He has been taken from his home and family, his entire world and dragged into this one with no known way back, and the person he depends on for some kind of stability has just been discovered to have another name that he had no idea existed. I figured that it was time to realize that I could tell someone the truth for once. It was only fair, considering the circumstances.
"My name is Hope Chain, but I haven't been called by that name for around twenty years at least... I was renamed as "Ashley, of the First Generation." I began, my voice soft and slow as I tried to figure out an easy way to explain this all; then led Deus to one of the backrooms, to one of the chess tables. We sat across from each other, the board game between us like something foreshadowing what was yet to come of this world between Deus and I.
"Why were you renamed?" Deus asked, his brows furrowing and his tone was serious and edged with concern. I was certain that he could already ponder the answer. I knew he was a smarter person than I was by far. Though, as a precaution to make sure that we were on the same page, I explained it.
"It was a tactic. Robert Collumns thought it would make the children more… pliable to his plans. It allowed him to instill the feeling he wanted- that he could change any variable that he wanted about us… even our own given names." I answered gravely as I toyed with the white king chess piece. I waited for a moment, but no questions came.
During the silence, I swapped the king piece for a simple pawn, placing the chess piece where the king was and vice versa, then I looked up at Deus. The look in his eyes spoke of his wordless understanding. I was speaking what I wanted to, through these little game pieces. Too afraid to say it out loud, I instilled meanings into these little pieces. I wanted Robert Collumns to loose control of this city, and for someone more... human to take over.
"What happened to this city?" He asked, confusion leaking through his voice as his fingers grasped at a black knight, studying it, only to put it back down after a moment and run a hand through his scruffy hair. I made a mental note to remember to give him a haircut soon. I wasn't great at it, but the kids didn't seem to mind any mistakes I ever made, and I was good at trimming my own hair, so I guess I was the orphanage's barber in a sense. I thought about that as I rummaged through my thoughts, continuing with the explanation.
"Robert happened. He took over the city. He… killed anyone who disagreed with his views. Took all of the children for himself to hopefully remold them into…. Perfect citizens… But I don't think he was pleased with my generation, since he just pretty much just put a price tag on all of our heads..." I explained, my voice was cold, void of emotion. I tried not to attach any thought to what I said. I didn't want to think about it. I wasn't giving him a complete answer though, and I knew it. Details were intentionally skipped. I would answer his questions, but there was a limit to it.
"What happened to you?" He asked in a hushed tone, his head lowered slightly, I couldn't see his face. I didn't really know how to read that, and I was suddenly unsure of how this man might see me right now, after I've only told him the smallest of portions about my history in my life.
"Doesn't matter." I answered quickly, suddenly very uncomfortable. I rose to leave, but the man latched onto my hand and looked me in the eyes with his assured crystal blue gaze. I sat back down, sighing. How could I possibly tell him what has happened? Where would I begin? How much do I tell him? I've never spoken of it, and now, faced with the choice of telling him, I had no idea just how much to let him in on.
"Just tell me as much as you're comfortable with." He flashed a smile, as if knowing my mental anguish, I guess it was supposed to calm me down, but it didn't help much. Perhaps it even did some harm. I didn't know what to do, and faced with the situation, I went with a gut instinct and blurted out a tidbit of information.
"He killed my parents." I injected the statement into the conversation then gulped, unsure of where to go with this talk. I was feeling so edgy right now, I just wanted to get up and leave. A few moments ago, I had been so certain in my move to let Deus know the truth, but now I wondered if I was even able to handle the act of explaining it to him. I felt his hand on mine, another comforting move that had no effect on my inner turmoil. What do I do now? What do I say now? Did he expect me to continue to talk? I figured that it might be right to continue on with my little explanation, and so I did, growing a little more confident with every spoken word.
"I can't… I won't forgive him or forget about it… so… I openly oppose him." The statement that I had spoken drew me to think on my actions in the last two decades. I was suddenly starting to wonder if it was smart to continue on in this fashion. When I was on my own, I had nothing to loose, and it was easy to laugh about the fact that I was a thorn in his side, but now I had children and a man who depended on me. What if I died or was killed? I really needed to have a night to myself and try and think things through at some point. Maybe I could figure out some way to keep opposing Robert Collumns, but find some way to keep the children safe.
"Is that where… all of the scars are from and those tattoos above your eyes? And the way you act sometimes?" He asked quietly, his eyes flicking up to glance at me for a moment, and then he reached across the board, placing the king and the pawn in their proper spots again. For some reason, that brought a frown to my face, though I said nothing, I nodded in response to his questions as I pondered what would happen if Robert Collumns was taken out of power and then found his way back into it. Would he see it as an attack and punish Prophet City as a whole for the situation? I found it rather alarming when I knew the answer had to be "yes".
"So what's going on now?" The questions he asked always seemed to have double meanings- he wanted to know too much about everything, really. He wanted to know about the city, and he wanted to know about what just happened outside. The man wanted to know too much, and perhaps keeping him in the dark would keep him safe, but it would also keep him unprepared if something where to happen. So, I continued to talk, trying to explain things in the simplest way that I could.
"The First Generation apparently isn't to Robert Collumns' liking, so he put a reward on it, saying that you could profit from turning in a First Generation- who knows how much money I'm worth... But if I can evade being caught for a few weeks, I have to meet with him again." I explained simply, trying not to think about it too much. I was basically telling this man that if I didn't get caught and sold off, or killed; I still had to meet up with the man who seemed to be the very root of my problems.
"What happens when he asks you to meet with him?" Deus asked, and the room went silent for a moment- that concern was edging his voice again, and I sighed, not wanting to answer that question. Of course, I had to at some point, but I wished that I could put off that answer for an eternity. I wasn't interested in explaining all of this, but since I had already started, I needed to finish it.
"He'll probably cut something else away from me or alter my body again… though; he's running out of things to chop off, so he's probably just going to make additions or changes… maybe he'll make me more of a freak than I already am." I muttered and watched as Deus looked to my hands, where each of my fingers held a ring of scars around each individual knuckle, around my wrists. There was no hiding it, I looked like that character… that monster from that book Deus had told me about… I think it was Frankenstein, I felt like a monster that had been taken apart and put back together. Then his gaze seemed to wander over my body. I could practically see him trying to speculate all that's been done to me.
"It's ok; he won't target you or the children." I reassured him with a small smile. "You guys aren't an issue to him, so he's not interested in wasting his time on trying to cause trouble." I continued, offering him a little bit of a wider smile, though he shook his head fiercely, he looked angry, but I continued on. "Even if I'm killed, I doubt he'll have a reason to bother anyone in this house." He put a hand over mine again and smiled grimly and shook his head, I couldn't understand him at that moment, and his expression was unreadable.
"That's not what I'm worried about." His voice struck me oddly then, and I looked up at him to find Deus staring at me in a manner I wasn't used to. I was surprised by the what I saw clearly displayed on his face.
He was seriously angry.
"You act like you don't matter, like it's fine if you die! There are twenty-five children in this house who think you matter, that would be devastated if you died. I was expecting that you were keeping things from us, and perhaps even suppressing your actual personality… but this takes the cake!" He spat venomously, and I sighed before running a fingertip over one of the white pawns before making a move, I didn't answer him. My silence spoke for me, and I watched as he leaned back in his chair, sighing and rubbing his face.
"You have problems." He commented, and I nodded simply, a wry smile gracing my lips for a moment before it drifted back into a weary frown. We both leaned back in our chairs; he looked up at the ceiling while I stretched a little before popping my neck. A couple of silent moments passed before he spoke again.
"So, how long?" He asked, slightly more relaxed. I wasn't sure what he was referring to this time, and at my confused glance, he continued. "How long do you have to stay in hiding before you can show your face outside of this house?" He asked simply, as if we were just talking about a trivial matter.
I must have frowned more, because he frowned and shook his head, I think he got the gist of the fact that there seemed to be no time limit on this one. We were silent again for a time before he spoke up again. "Maybe you should get one of the kids to teach you how to play chess in the meantime." He commented with a sly smile, interrupted when a white pawn struck the side of his temple. I had two more in my hand, but I slowly placed them back on the board, not interested in really throwing game pieces around.
"That's not how you play chess." He commented, rubbing the side of his head where the piece had struck him, like it had actually hurt.
"Yeah, but I don't think I'm so hopeless that I'd need one of the young ones to teach me." I retorted sharply and then rolled my eyes slightly before grinning. The right corner of Deus' mouth quietly curved into a smile in response. "Deus… if anything should happen… keep the children with you… even… if you find a door back to your own world- If I'm not here… I need to know that they'll be safe." I spoke in a hushed tone, the grin slipping away from my tired face. I honestly just wanted to crawl into a bed right now and disregard everything else.
"You can trust me, I wouldn't leave them all alone- What do you take me for?" He questioned, seeming baffled that I even thought I had to ask. Perhaps this was the most reassuring thing I had heard all day, because in that moment, I felt myself calm down entirely and I knew I could trust him to take care of the children while I went to rest. I desperately needed to sleep.
"I just needed to be certain… thank you… I think I'm going to head to bed early… I can't seem to keep my eyes open." I commented as I rose from my seat and smiled before leaving the room and passing through the kitchen on my way to the bedroom, some of the children that were still eating or snacking at the very least had noticed me. I kept repeating that I was going to sleep, which seemed to shock them with how early it was, since the sun was still visible on the horizon, but then a few of the younger kids came with as I headed up to the bedroom, which was a large room with 10 actual beds, three mattresses strewn across the floor, and a lone blanket and pillow.
The last two items were mine. I liked it that way, though. Sometimes the kids had nightmares and they woke me up. I'd just walk over and sleep next to them- problem solved, they were reassured that they were safe and could go back to sleep with little to no problems. Though, when I had nightmares, I was more liable to find the least populated corner of the room and move there. I needed my space in those instances, but I'd usually wake to at least ten kids sleeping around me in the morning when that occurs.
As it was, I was already moving to that little dusty corner of the room, but before I had a chance to protest, two of the children had already set up nearby, muttered a sleepy but cheerful "Good night" and promptly went to sleep. I figured there was no use and curled up in my blanket and dozed off, hoping that any dreams that I might have would be peaceful.
I dreamt about the day I lost my parents again, and the fear and anger consumed my unconscious. I woke in a cold sweat, panting and trembling, with Deus pressing a cold, wet rag to my forehead. The man actually looked like he was genuinely concerned and I had to feel a little bit better by knowing that this man was on my side.
"Did you dream about me kicking your ass in chess?" He asked, and I had to smile, though I muttered "Bastard" under my breath. He bid me a "good night" and then headed off when it seemed like I had calmed down. I was thankful that he was here, and I started to feel tired again.
Within moments I was asleep again, though it was a dreamless sleep, or so I had thought. I had been so certain that I would wake without an issue, but I was mistaken.
I woke to fifteen little faces staring at me in the morning and concluded that I needed to figure out how to stop screaming when I have nightmares. This just could not keep happening. It wasn't good for them or for me.
