Memories

I was jerked awake when I heard a soft shuffling behind my door, my eyes open and my mind attentive in moments. One of the things I had learnt from living on the streets, you wake up – straight away. If you didn’t, many bad things could happen, like being taken in by the city guards or being attacked by any of the other orphans who had managed to live past the first year on the streets.

You had to learn to be quick on your feet and alert at the slightest sound. That’s why I always stayed dressed – not that I exactly had a whole wardrobe to choose between.

My eyes narrowed and focussed on the sound behind my door. It was a soft thudding, barely audible, but my ears were attuned to hearing soft sounds.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as I could, I moved to grab the heaviest looking thing I could find, a delicate and intricately painted vase that rested on the cupboard beside my bed.

I picked it up, feeling the weight of it in my hands and trying to hold it in a way that would make it easy to use it as a defensive weapon. It was tall and thick set at the base, meaning it could easily knock out anyone who was coming to attack.

My eyes flicked around to find an escape. How could I have done this to myself? I had been living on the streets for over three years now, and I had never let myself be cornered. It was my number one rule - always have an exit strategy.

 I looked outside the window at the sun, which was just coming over the horizon to peek at the town that lay beneath it.

Dawn, I thought. What time had Gareth said he was coming to get me?

The door rattled this time and I watched as the handle turned slowly.

I backed myself up against the wall right next to the window so if needed, I would jump out of it. I was desperately hoping it wasn’t going to come to that. I had done it before, only once, and never wanted to repeat it again. It had been horribly painful.

I held up the vase, ready to strike just as the door opened and a man appeared, his head bowed down, looking at his feet.

As soon as he looked up, I lowered the vase, feeling silly.

Blake raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes scanning over the way I was positioned and what I was holding.

“That wouldn’t have helped you,” he said in a casual tone as he entered the room. He was dressed in black pants and shirt, his dark hair ruffled as thought he only just gotten out of bed himself.

I lowered my eyes and placed the vase back in its place, sitting down on the bed.

“Always trying to attack me, aren’t you,” Blake added in a sarcastic way. Even though his tone was sarcastic, his face was utterly serious and I blushed in embarrassment at my actions. “What were you going to do with it? Throw it?”

He threw a white fluffy thing at me as if to illustrate his point, and I almost screamed out loud as I jumped back, and flattened myself against the wall again.

He looked at me questioningly and walked over to pick it up.

“It’s only a towel.”

I looked at him feeling my cheeks redden further. I was on edge and jumping at anything. I was never on edge; unless the city guards were patrolling my normal hang outs, in which case I was always on the move.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Blake handed me the towel and walked over to the door.

“You coming?” he inquired, looking back over his shoulder at me.

I nodded and followed him slowly out the door.

The halls were confusing to me and I had no idea where in town I was. The few windows that lined the long paths lit up the dark, gloomy corridors. We passed what felt like several hundred doors, the majority of them closed. The hard, wooden panels shutting me out from the mysterious world inside.

So many questions bubbled on my lips, but just one glance at Blake’s back, showed his rigid and grumpy demeanour was back. I didn’t want to annoy him further, so I asked the least threatening question I could think of.

“Where is Gareth?” I queried to his back, as the distance between us grew. I had to jog to catch up to him.

“He was busy so Darius assigned me to your preparation,” he conceded icily. I could hear the frustration in his voice. He didn’t want to have to deal with me - that much was obvious.

“Right.”

I was almost disappointed to have to deal with Blake today instead of Gareth. At least his personality would have been more manageable.

“Try not to look so disappointed,” Blake murmured gruffly, looking over at my face. Even though he sounded like it didn’t hurt him, I saw a flash of an emotion flit through his eyes. Too quick for me to catch, it was gone before I had really noticed it.

“Well maybe you should try not to look so grumpy,” I countered, mumbling it under my breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” I squeaked, embarrassed to have been caught out.

Blake cast me a haughty glare before turning and marching through a large, empty room.

We weaved through long corridors and slipped through many secret passageways. By the time we had finally reached the baths I was more confused at my actual location inside the building than I was outside the building. I knew by the smell of the air we were in the western side of the city. I could smell the salt in the breeze that wafted in on the sea spray, but other than that, I was lost. It made me panic. I was never lost. I knew the city like the back of my hand, to be lost was to be in danger.

Blake gave me a wry smile as he pushed open the door for me to enter.

“Wait here,” he said quietly before striding out of the door.

I looked around at the large room I was now standing in. The large walls were made of white tiles that seemed to sparkle with cleanliness. The floor was also white tile but was slightly wet from all the steam that hung around like fog early in the morning.

Several baths were spaced out at intervals along the farthest wall from me, their white tubs waiting for someone to fill them up.

I was the only person in the large room and was glad that every room I seemed to be taken to was large and spacious. I could not remember the last time I had stayed inside a building for so long. The idea of being put in a tiny, cramped room like the jail cells sent spasms of fear along my skin, raising the hairs along my arms.

I ran my hand slowly along the edge of the closest bath. The cool porcelain felt amazing against my throbbing, sore palms. The more I thought about them and the missing skin, the more they ached. The coldness of the bath soothed the raw skin and soaked into the hot, damaged areas of my hand.

Blake returned with a pile of clean clothes and filled up a bath for me before leaving again with the instructions of bathing.

I peered down into the steaming water uncertain whether I wanted to do this. It had been many months since I had taken a bath, which probably meant I stunk, badly. I did take hygiene seriously though, always taking the time to wash certain areas, but full on baths were a luxury. The last time I had experienced a hot bath was before I left the orphanage, many years before. I closed my eyes as a spasm of sadness pierced my chest. I had to stop thinking about it.

I stripped off my torn rags and let them fall to the floor. Stepping into the warm water, it lapped at my legs, the warmth seeping into my skin.

Unexpectedly, I enjoyed the feeling, and was soon relishing washing all the dirt and grime off that was stuck to my skin. Some spots wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard I scrubbed at them. I was close to making the skin bleed when I realised that they weren’t dirt stains, but bruises. One particularly large one blossomed along the length of my palm and just on the underside of my arm. I had no idea how it had gotten there, but it was remarkable. The purple colouring intermingled with the yellow puce that made it look slightly off putting. After that I did my best to ignore it.

The soap burned and stung the raw flesh on my hands and knees, which I tried my best to disregard. I had learnt long ago, the more you focused on the pain, the more excruciating and obvious it would become.

 I washed my hair several times with a soap that smelled remarkably like oranges, but still despite the cleaning ability of the soap, some of the tangles would not come out. I lavished the feel of the warmth on my skin and was definitely unwilling to get out. I had to empty the tub many times to make sure I was truly clean, the water turning a horrid, dirt brown each time. It was sickening to think so much grime had coated my skin and hair.

By the time my skin was starting to wrinkle, I decided that maybe the time had come to hop out. I grabbed the fluffy towel and wrapped it around my body, surprised at how many times I could pull it around myself. The towel was soft and warm, the steam clinging to the outer edges making it slightly damp, but what did it matter? It was only going to get wetter.

A fogged up mirror was perched at the end of the long room, leaning against the white wall. I eyed it cautiously, wondering if I should look into it but decided against it. Why torture myself more? I hadn’t looked in a mirror since leaving the orphanage. I’d wanted to remember myself as the bright eyed, skinny, but healthy, girl who had left.

I grabbed my dirty clothes and threw them in the bin that sat at one end of the room after putting on the new, clean ones. They fit me reasonably well, the white shirt fitting to my body and the black pants loose, but comfortable. A pair of small brown boots sat on the floor, having come out of my new clothes pile. I pulled them on, relieved to feel the supple leather that moulded to my feet. Leather was something that I could never afford, generally having to go without shoes. It was a wonderful feeling, but yet at the same time, slightly claustrophobic. I knew the shoes would not last long even if they were so beautifully made.

The mirror was still taunting me and unable to resist, I edged towards it. My hand was shaking when I wiped away the steam that clung like a mask onto the mirror, to reveal my reflection.

I almost jumped backwards in shock.

I hardly recognised the person I saw. A pair of wide electric blue eyes stared back at me, framed by a thin, flushed face from the heat of the bath. Her dark hair fell beside her face, damp and lifeless, still containing knots that made it look unattractive. In all, her hair was beautiful, a long curtain that swept down her back but the clumps of knots and tangles ruined the almost perfection.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath preparing myself for the worst bit.

My eyes fluttered open and I studied my body, lifting up the shirt to see the damage.

The body in the mirror was skeletal, her ribs sticking out like jutting teeth. Scars littered my body, some from fights with other orphans, but most from my capture by the city guard. Shock tingled through my body, closely followed by horror.

I wrapped my arms around my body and closed my eyes, sinking onto the wet floor sobbing, overwhelmed by the memories. They battered against my mind, dragging my into the darkness and reminding me of the horrors I had experienced.

My breath became short and choppy as I fought against the panic and fear that was beginning to consume my thoughts. The tendrils of despair curled within me, eating me up. Flashes of memories flickered to life - the searing pain of the iron on my skin, the sting of the whip, the cold bite of the metal cuffs - each memory worse than the last and pulling me deeper into the dark abyss.

My body curled into a ball as the tears poured from my eyes and sobs wracked through my skeletal frame, jarring my body. 

The dam had broken.