Shades of Love

Chapter 9

9

June 2004

The girl hurried down the hall, her slippers sliding on the floor as she turned the corner.

She was late, and when children were late for morning inspection and their daily prayer services, they would have to deal with the punishment of their elders.

Though she wasn’t a child anymore. Now, at sixteen, she was nearly a woman.

Opening the door, she skidded to a stop, all eyes on her as she walked into the room as if she weren’t late at all.

“I told you she wouldn’t make it on time,” a girl her age muttered to a friend, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder.

The other one snickered in response, giving her a cruel sneer. “Why does she think she’s special? She’s no different than the rest of us.”

She didn’t understand why the other girls hated her so much. She’d tried to be kind, but still, she was always on the outside looking in. She didn’t think she was special at all.

Ugly, freakish—that’s what everyone called her, and what she’d come to believe of herself. What did they see that she didn’t? She was treated the same—rather, she was treated worse than the rest of them. She didn’t even have a name.

She held her head high as she walked past them, taking her seat at the end of the long bench, then tucking her hands in her lap as she looked up at the dais. She always dreaded this time of day. Not that she minded the long silences that ensued during their several-hours-long prayer sessions. At least no one could make fun of her then. What she hated was having to succumb to the cruel inspection of the leader of the cult, day after day.

The side door opened and they all sat a little straighter when he walked in the room, his billowing robes like black wings floating behind him.

Black. She hated black. Though all the members of the sect wore the same black tunics day after day, their esteemed leader had a new set of robes for every day of the week.

Sundays were her favorite. On that day he wore pristine white, looking more like their leader and less like the formidable evil villain that he was portraying right now.

The white didn’t make his sermons any less frightening, though. And it certainly didn’t soften any of the punishments he doled out.

One of the older women stood and faced them. “Rise, my young ones,” she said. “Address His Greatness.”

They all said, in unison, their voices meek and tuneless, “Good day, my lord.”

He answered with a sweet smile. As he approached the bench they all stood dutifully. The older women stood behind them, waiting for one of them to step out of line so they could be punished. No one dared move, barely breathing as he started at the far end to inspect each girl as he did every week. She felt as if they were being evaluated for something, though no one ever told them why he did this inspection or about what the outcome would be.

But when one child did not meet his expectations, well, they never saw her or him again.

The girl kept her eyes lowered to the floor, tucking her flaxen hair again and again behind her ear, attempting to watch from the corner of her eye as he moved slowly down the line, muttering comments too softly to hear to his advisor that followed him everywhere.

From memory, she knew of his tall, lean frame, his hair the color of midnight, with graying at the temples.

She thought of the shrewdness in his gaze when he would look at her face, the brilliance of his blue eyes as they stared at her for a moment.

In those depths, there was no warmth, no emotions which would make her think that he saw the other children and orphans—much less her—as anything other than his subjects. Or rather, objects to bend to his every whim.

The shuffling of his robes on the uneven stone floors grew nearer and her heart raced with anticipation that this would soon be over and she could go back to her duties, another week gone by that ensured her safety.

They weren’t allowed to discuss this inspection and if they were overheard doing so, it was a week without food.

No one wished for a week without food.

Finally, his shiny shoes came into view and she ceased to breathe, feeling the coldness of his touch on her chin as he beckoned for her to meet his gaze.

There was something weird and sinister in the depth of his eyes—a hatred and a longing which could level mountains—and she couldn’t quite explain why it was directed at her or what it was. As if she were looking into a painting but was unable to understand the reflection. But she strived as she wanted to please him, to make him proud of her.

“Freak,” he said, his words like a whisper. “Who would have thought.”

Freak. Her stomach sank.

Did that mean she’d displeased him? Did that mean she would be torn away, taken where the other girls went, never to be seen again? She wanted to ask what that meant, but again, talking to him without permission would lead to far worse consequences than a going without food for a week.

He let out a breath, no emotions on his face as he dropped his hand, regarding her in awkward silence to the point she wanted to say something just to get a stir out of him.

His voice was low, pointed, almost a growl. “What is that?”

She held her breath as he brushed her ice-blonde veil of hair to the back of her shoulders, hair that they were required to keep waist length and down when they were not performing their duties. In a rush, she suddenly realized what he was talking about and wanted to sink into the floor. She could feel the tiny dove pendant now, pressing into the hollow of her throat.

Why do you have to be so stupid, Girl! She usually only wore it in her room, at night, during her quiet time. It helped her to remember that once, long ago, someone on this earth had loved her. Normally she remembered to take it off, but she had been in such a hurry today that she forgot. How could she have been so stupid?

Flustered, she watched as his advisor peered at her, a frown on his face. “It’s a necklace, my lord.”

“A necklace,” he repeated, his eyes transfixed on the small silver chain around her neck. “Do we allow them to wear jewelry?”

“N-no,” the advisor replied.

Before she could do anything, the lord reached in and ripped the necklace from her neck, the chain biting into her skin as it was pulled free.

She winced as he palmed it, the apples of her cheeks burning when she realized she’d never see it again.

“Sell it.” He scowled. “No. It’s not worth anything. Toss it away.”

How had he known that? Had he even looked at it for longer than a second? That thought skittered through her mind as her stare burned into his closed fist.

Resisting the urge to lunge for his closed fist, and fighting back the tears of physical pain and emotional hurt, she watched as he handed it to his advisor, who tucked it into his pocket, the last memory of her mother now in his possession. Her mother, whom she’d never known. No. All she’d ever known was what the woman who cared for her had said: Her father had died long before she was born. Her mother had died in childbirth, and had wanted her to have the necklace. That was all.

Her mother wouldn’t have given it to her unless she’d loved her. That necklace was the only thing the girl had to tell herself that she was more than just a lowly freak.

And now it was gone.

Her master regarded her, peering down the edge of his nose at her like she was an insect that needed to be squashed. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of something even stronger than hatred, if that was possible.

Her heart sunk as he motioned for one of the women to come forward.

“Five days in the tower,” he stated firmly, smoothing his robes out. “Anyone who attempts to help her will be cast out.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” The woman bobbed her head, then gripped her arm so tightly that the girl knew she’d have bruises on it later. But that was insignificant. A thousand days in the tower seemed insignificant to what she’d just lost.

Tears fell freely from her eyes as she was escorted out of the room, down the familiar hall that no one wanted to go.

“How could you be so foolish?” The woman seethed as she forced her down the hall and into the dark, long corridor which lead to the tower.

The huge spiders on the webs, which hung from the ceiling and veiled the rocky walls in soft-gray, looked down at her with their black beaded eyes and she wondered if they were plotting to eat her. But she knew animals were less likely to hurt her than the human beings who inhabited the monastery. “I’m sorry.”

“You know the rules, yet you choose to break them repeatedly. Do you not want to belong?”

“I wanted to belong.” She gasped inward, and before the woman notice her slip, she quickly corrected herself, “I want.”

“Then you should follow the rules, Freak.”

She managed not to stumble when the woman pushed her into a room where the smell of dust and wax hung heavy in the air. “I’ll try.”

The woman pursed her lips as she stood in the doorway, the heavy, old, and rusty key already in her hand. “Perhaps this will be your breaking point then. Repeat the Blessing of Darkness one-thousand times, and maybe God will forgive you.”

She bowed her head, falling to her knees dutifully as she started to murmur the prayer which she should repeat for the next five days—but wouldn’t—and winced as the door shut firmly, the key grating in the lock.

Five days in solitude, with no connection to the outside world. No food, no sunshine, nothing. It was enough to break one’s spirit, but she refused to bend.

They did not know who she was and what she knew about herself. They did not know that she was smarter than she appeared. She didn’t want to belong anymore.

Now, she wished to be free. She wished to be happy.

I will be. She promised herself. One day soon.

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