The spring wind chopped through my hair under the eaves of a large fir tree, coaxing my tired eyes to bask in sleep amidst a calm symphony of chirping birds and ambient wildlife not to far away. Hidden, but visible all the same.
I could feel them watching. Or rather, a close approximation of observation only known to animals. An idle curiosity, or maybe even a calling. It was a wondrous thing, to be free in such a vast forest. I could only imagine the reigns that would govern such a call. Something beyond me or anyone else.
Fatigue settled into my legs and arms as I lazily examined the clouds above. Some resembled that of townhouses I had become acquainted to through the Village of Meniti not to far from our home. Others shifted between prairie roamers and undergrowth critters, their ephemeral shapes matching my indignation at my Father's parting words.
'When I return, I'll make due on my promise, Yovi. Keep watch over your mother.'
He had never promised me anything, to my knowledge. My father had always been a man of action. If he couldn't achieve something with words, then he would enforce those ideals with equal action. That was where my respect in him lay. I could trust in the fact that he would always follow through.
So what had he promised me? Maybe it wasn't meant to be taken literally. He had the habit of speaking his mind without properly analyzing the context beforehand, after all. I figured it had something to do along those lines.
Before my fatigue could settle into idle rest, I stood against the grainy wood of the Fir tree that acted as ample support, allowing my tired limbs to reconstitute themselves to standing after what seemed like hours of pensive thought on the mossy floor below.
The Prairie was as beautiful today as any other. Churning fields of grass stretched ever onward before being eclipsed by the far off horizon, the echoes of civilization perched atop a far eastern point. Meniti. It was where my father had gone to barter this year's harvest away. A veritable smorgasbord of oat and grain that would supply our family with the necessary funds to extend our peaceful lives until it came time to harvest again.
Taking steps to coax my tired legs from their slumber, the grass beneath my feet felt soft yet firm. Just like it always had. Day after day, I would come here, a ritual that served as a poignant reminder of my disregard. My training had stifled, my mind had become cloudy from misuse, and my legs hurt. I was a tad peckish as well.
Mother would be serving lunch by this time. Even if she called me, I wouldn't hear her. It was a complicit understanding between us that I would return when the sun reached it's apex in the sky. She always worried incessantly about my hunger. I wouldn't say she nagged, but that description wasn't far off, either. She could be grating if she wanted to be.
Tracing the path I had taken countless times before, enamored by the beauty of the Grasslands that never overstayed it's welcome in my mind, I reminded myself that there was still work to be done, and imbued my body with Trace, the power that surged within me hastening my thoughts and steps. It was akin to a feeling of being rejuvenated by a hearty meal, only greatly compounded by the flow of Chroma that surged inside.
My slow walk turned into a sprint as I galloped across the fields of marshy undergrowth, leaping over streams and ditches that had caused me to stumble in the past. I was growing, that was for certain. But my growth was hindered by the fact that I had no Idea what I was doing. My training was reliant on instinct alone, and through that, I had reached a plateau.
Father said I needed to be patient, that only time would serve to harden my skills. But calling them skills was like calling a bird's ability to fly a learned trait. It was instinctual at it's roots, but there were things I could only learn from a prodigious mentor. I needed to be pushed from the nest so I could grow on my own, but my parents either didn't trust in me or cared deeply enough about my wellbeing to refute that possibility in it's entirety.
Every impact with the earth below sent waves of pain coursing through my legs and hips, before being alleviated almost as quickly as it's onset. Using Trace to empower my body, the toll of my exercise never seemed to overstay it's welcome. Again, Instinct. I had no idea why that was the case, but I felt as if it made sense all the same.
My family's cottage careened into view as I hurdled over what seemed like the hundredth stretch of uneven plains, bringing with it a sense of relief. Soon, I'd be treated to a bevy of exotic dishes from Mother that neither originated or resembled common Lativan cuisine. Eating at the many restaurants and kitchens within Meniti alluded to that idea. I could feel my stomach grumble already.
Now within earshot of my Father's impromptu property line, denoted by a cross-stream of willowing spring water that chugged idly across the ground, a faint moaning broke me from my melodious stupor. A sound I have never heard of before, or even thought possible. Coming from within the confines of my quaint home.
A shiver ran through my back as I took a more steady trot towards the entryway, the sounds growing louder alongside a raucous concoction of smashing and breaking. A foreign sensation echoed deep within my mind, something I couldn't place but became terrified of the longer I stood there.
Deeper inside, a couplet of foreign voices peaked that notion to a higher extreme.
"Won't you shut her up? And give me the prybar, this son of a bitch ain't budgin'." It said, piercing the deepest extremities of my soul like a torrent of emotion. Even against my better judgement, against the growing sense of horror that filled my lungs with mirth, I stepped through the doorway.
Into hell.
Laying just beyond the hearth that still blazed with a kindled flame, was my Mother. Her lower half was gruesomely exposed, dark bruises running up and down her naked legs. The autumnal blouse she wore, once a beautiful signet of her personality, was now marred with rips and tears. I forced myself to peer into her face, seeing eyes that steeled over into pits of dark malaise.
Her eyes met mine, and my heart shattered like I never thought it could.
"M-moth-"
Before I could finish, a sudden impact threw my body across the rugged stone carapace that acted as our home's foundation.
"What the hell, now we've gotta deal with a kid. You said she'd be alone." Through blurry vision, I could see that the voices belonged to a pair of rugged looking men, their physique sinewy and grotesque, built only for combat.
"A woman's gotta have a kid. Who the hell cares, just finish him off." The one standing adjacent to our kitchen spoke, barely offering a look in edgewise as he rummaged through the cabinetry that held our most expensive cookware, stashing the items he thought deserving into a large satchel held in his left hand.
The Attacker that assumedly blindsided me huffed indignantly, his jaw tightening as he walked with confident steps towards me. I could barely stand, barely move, even with Trace supporting my frame. Maybe if I hadn't pushed myself so hard to get here, I would have energy to spare. Energy to fight.
Because, in that instant, all I wanted to do was fight. To make them pay for what they did to my Mother. She was suffering a pain I couldn't imagine, but instinctively understood of it's depth all the same.
"You shouldn't've come home, little one." The Man that now towered over me spoke in a hushed whisper, more so to himself than to me, as he brough his foot down against my sternum. I screamed in pain as my chest shattered under the grown adult's full weight he pressed down onto me. My vision blurred even more, tears flooding the remnants of sight I had managed to uphold up until that point.
He pressed down harder, seemingly being burgeoned on by the crunching that emanated from my collapsing breastbone. Harder and harder he pushed, and with every ounce of strength he supplied to his leg, the pain multiplied.
"Damnit, just die already. Just die." The Man mumbled, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he did so. His stance suffered as a result, giving me just a moment of slight reprieve before he forcefully applied his weight back onto my shattered ribs.
"Get it over with and come help me, this bag's heavy." The Voice from deeper within shouted, annoyance peaking his grim tone with a slight tinge of exertion.
"Shut it, will you. Killing a kid ain't no field of daisies."
"Look at the mom while you say that, huh? Now hurry, we don't have all day."
Being spurned on by his companion, the Man sighed deeply before lifting his foot off of it's hold on my upper chest, moving to my side before crouching alongside my right flank. Even as my soul yearned to fight back, my body was completely useless. My whimpers were met with ambivalence, as he brought his hands to my face.
"It'll be over soon, kid."
I could feel it. As radiant as the golden aura of the sun. An impending doom that forsook all that came before it and all that would come after.
This is what death felt like.
The sensation of the Man's grimly cold hands wrapped around the sides of my skull, bracing towards a twisting motion that would swiftly take my life.
Until, suddenly, his grasp disappeared. In it's place were the sounds of screaming, intermingled with thuds and loud gurgles as if someone had been subsumed in a deep pool of liquid, gasping for air. My eyes were useless, the world around me a bleak mirage of fading lights and distant shadows. But my ears captured all. The shrill desperation of a woman's fury unleashed, my attacker gargling before the sound died out in a whimper.
"You Bitch!" From a distance, the Man's companion called, followed by a series of cankerous steps hurdling closer and closer. A meaty wallop, metal hitting flesh, and then a loud thump. All was silent now, except for harsh breathing that I assumed belonged to the Man that had called out. My heart plummeted.
"Fuck. Fuck!" He cried, the sounds of his massive footsteps wringing my ears like wet sand, before the approximation of his presence echoed further and further away. Straining my ears, hoping to detect where he had gone, I had realized that the house was now empty. A ghastly silence purveyed the space, leaving me with my thoughts and the pain that slowly evaporated with time and Chroma. It would not heal, but it could alleviate. That was more than enough to stave off the incoming approach of collapse my psyche had treaded upon for what seemed like an eternity.
The longer I applied Trace to my body, the more my sight returned to me. Cloudy blocks dissipated into a retched scene I wished I was still inebriated enough to be hidden from.
Blood. Scattered chaotically across hardwood flooring and the Oak trunks that acted as the Cottage's walls. The trim they were shaved to form on it's inward face gleamed sanguine with the dark liquid, a veritable bloodbath mixed with the wreckage of our furnishings and valuables.
Gathering just a bit more strength, I managed to pull myself up, using the wall behind me as support, every movement causing flashes of white-hot pain to drill into my chest. The tears I shed blurred my vision, but I could still see the corpse of my Mother just a few meters away, her mouth coated with the Attackers blood and flesh.
She had ripped his jugular out with her own teeth, her mark now reduced to a crumpled marionette of muscle and grimy clothing.
In that moment, the physical pain that assaulted me gave way to one much more vile and intrusive. The realization that my Mother, the only Mother I would have in this world, gave her life to save mine.
"M-Mama?" I called, as useless as words were at this point. Instinctual.
Naively hoping to hear a response, and getting none in return, the pain escalated. Chroma could nurture the body, but not the soul. And no panacea would cure the bile that now rose within me.
I hobbled closer to her, yearning for the same melodic cooing of her voice that always calmed me when the nights seemed too dark, when the pain seemed too gargantuan. Resting my head against her chest, yearning for the semblance of movement where her heart was, and feeling nothing in return, I began to weep.
A sound I didn't think possible exploded from my hanging mouth, a yearnful cry mixed with the abandonment of my entire World. Just moments ago I had wistfully pondered her cooking, the cornucopia of flavor every one of her dishes seemed to elicit. Now, I would never partake.
Every thought, every memory, compounded my sorrow multiplicatively. And like a parasite feeding on my sadness, the memories flooded in with rapturous abandonment.
'Don't forget to clean your hair, Yovi. No chance a girl would take a bedridden boy over a well-groomedman.' She said, the playful smile on her face evoking moans of anguish.
'What do you mean it wasn't funny? I thought it was pretty good myself.' She joked, her sense of snide humor non-existent amidst her pale face.
'I love you, Yovin. More than the Moons, the Stars, and all the Places in between' She chided, her warmth now gone as she lay in a pool of her own blood.
"Why... Why, Why, Why?!" I screamed, hoping, pleading for an answer. For a reason as to why my Sweet, Infallible Mother was dead. And why I was so weak as to not be able to even offer a sliver of resistance to the contrary.
Through my sobs, I hadn't noticed the arrival of another presence, now looming beyond the threshold of our door. Still racked with the stains of my sorrow, I turned to look, careless of whether or not the Man had returned to finish his quarry.
Instead of an Intruder, pouncing for an attack, it was my Father. His grey hair blowing adroitly in the afternoon wind outside, a hayseed-colored bucket hat clenched in his quaking fist.
If only I could put to words what I saw in his eyes. Devoid of light or understanding, he towered like a wraith stalking a battlefield.
"Maria?"
That singular word hung on the walls around us, consumed by the suffocating expanse of death that haunted our home.
A word that would never find it's answer.