Chapter 1

The Dungeon of Perception

Elysia’s Training with the Grimm Family

The small tiny, seven-year-old sat as still as a statue in the middle of the inky darkness, muscles quivering with tension as she took slow, panicked gulps of breath in the stale putrid air.

Two years of the Grimm family training and the young girl was still, unfortunately, unused to the terrible environment she was about to be hurled in.

The dungeon’s doors boomed before her, admitting the previous trainee into its dark maws, the lack of sight before the young child exponentially increasing her fear, as screams of terror and choked gargles of bloodied lungs ripped through the air before her.

She smelled.

The young girl lifted her dirty arms slightly to sniff her own dirty skin, the dirty and bloody one-piece dress shifting across her marred skin.

Badly.

Probably due to the fact she hadn’t been given a chance to bath in five days.

Well, they all weren’t. Not at least until they came out of the dungeon, passing the week’s training with barely a scratch on their youthful bodies.

Tiny but slender fingers prodded the scar at her stomach, at the side, and phantom pain flared delicately along the edges of the old wound—a definite reminder of her own carelessness in the sightless Dungeon.

“Scared?” Damon’s voice floated from the opposite side of the room into her ears. Funny, how comforting his voice sounded to her own ears, when it was just them all alone, with a gaping abyss of darkness swallowing everything between them. “I’m scared too.” Elysia twitched slightly at the admission her adoptive brother gave.

Damon was never one to share any of his feelings, nor repeatedly show his own weakness. Stubborn like a mule, he was, and as temperamental as the most vicious typhoon on land. You never knew when he’d strike, lashing out like a venomous snake hidden in a child’s skin.

Her ears pricked with sound as the twelve-year-old at the opposite side of the room shifted his knees slightly, the sound of dirty, rough skin shifted against each other filling her ears.

The Sightless Dungeon, it was called, by the Grimm family elders.

All children who bore the name of the Grimms had to be subjected to this one out of twelve Dungeons.

 

Like its namesake, the Sightless Dungeon blocked all trace of light, only letting darkness envelop its confines, the inky darkness cloying and too pitch black to see vague images of anything, the air too stale and putrid with dried blood and guts spilt.

“You’re Damon. You can’t be scared.” Elysia whispered, feeling almost stupid as a huff of irritation rushed from her brother’s chest, his emotions rising temperamentally. “And you aren’t supposed to be nice.”

“Right.” The stiff answer of her brother told Elysia everything she knew. “Don’t ever expect it again.”

Silence ensued between them, as the loud sounds of snapping bones and blood-curdling cries washed like amplified waves over them.

Without sight, all their other senses naturally amplified.

That was the sole purpose of the Sightless Dungeon—training the children in the art of fighting not just with what they see, but with their animalistic instincts and other valuable senses, a proven exploit that had shown considerable results in sharpening the accuracy and predictions of the trained children’s various attacks.

Elysia sniffled, terrified to the bone as the doors creaked open yet again.

“I can smell you crying, Elysia.” The scorn in Damon’s voice was clear in the inky dark air. “The smell of salt and days of unwashed hair.”

“I..” The apology was naturally affixed to the edge of her tongue, desperate for approval and yearning for solace.

“Save it.” The heir of the Grimm family retorted grimly. “It’s my turn now.” The rustle of his ripped pants filled the air, and the sound of cracked nails groping in the dark for the well-made staff provided for every child before they challenged the Dungeon filled Elysia’s young ears.

“Good luck.” The frail strain of her good wishes followed the sure sounds of her brother’s footsteps into the abyss of violence and irreversible loss of innocence.

The air whooshed slightly as Damon gave an offhanded wave of his hand.

“Don’t need it.”

Bright blue eyes followed the direction of the sure sound of footsteps echoing further into the Dungeon before the doors clanged shut—and she was left all alone.

It had to be hours after Damon’s rampage in the Dungeon that Elysia was let into the Dungeon itself.

She could vaguely hear the sounds of bodies being dragged away, the raged, crazed screams of her adopted brother as he was dragged down the hallway amidst a ravishing rage.

Those people training them in the Dungeon had done something that caused him to snap as if the crazed sounds of vulgarities hurled by the twelve-year-old were not loud enough to prove to the young girl what she already, and clearly knew.

Elysia’s eyelids drooped.

She was tired of waiting and hungry.

As though reading her mind, the young cherubic girl’s stomach gave a loud protesting growl.

She shifted slightly in her fetal position, the cold flat surfaces of the cobblestones a soothing comfort in the darkness she was left enclosed in.

“Your turn. Go in.” The procedure for her was obviously different, as footfalls of a well-polished pair of boots fell against the cobblestones, approaching her with a staff in hand. “There were some issues that needed to be changed.” The voice was stiff, cold, and devoid of any emotion, lacking in the well-needed solace Elysia so desired in every way.

“Take it.” Hesitant fingers wrapped themselves around the thick, heavy staff that was thrust before her. “I said, take it!” Annoyance was clear this time in the male’s heavily accented tone. Elysia could only tell that much, given his heavy-weighted footfalls and gruff stiff voice.

The staff was hurled onto her chest, dealing a heavy blow to her creaking ribs as she gasped, winded, for air.

“Go!” Harsh, calloused hands gripped her by the collar, and disorientation assaulted Elysia for a mere second as her feet left the ground—and she was hurled brutally onto the Dungeon’s floor, the heavy staff clattering noisily on the floor close by her, the sound of the metal doors closing stirring the fear in her heart.

The heavy stench of blood assaulted the seven-year-old’s nostrils, and sent her heaving into a corner, bile rising from the back of her throat onto the cobbled floor with a loud retch.

Tears fell, unbidden, as she collapsed on her knees, the suffocating air around her tightening like a noose around her neck, constricting, and vicious, clawing like a wronged man desperate for a chance of survival—for fresh, new blood and flesh.

Elysia.

Concentrate!

The first blow of a heavy staff, marked with claws ripped her dirty one-piece apart and into her chest, sending a scream tearing itself from her throat.

Elysia’s fingers desperately clutched at her chest, coming away wet with filthy, hot blood, coursing and spilling over her stomach, plopping onto the floor in loud droplets in her ears.

Remember what you learnt from the last time you were here.

Or else.

The young girl stifled her screams immediately, chomping down on the flesh of her arm to stop herself from making any more noise.

Trust your instincts.

Your sense of smell, hearing.

Taste.

Elysia licked her lips lightly, tasting the smelly, blood-filled air.

Teeth nibbled the bottom of her plump lips, her breaths hollowed and low, whispery soft.

Eliminate your own presence.

Calm yourself.

Goosebumps prickled all over the seven-year-old’s skin as she inhaled a deep breath of the stale air, the dust motes swirling into her lungs, and suppressing the bubble of fear and irrationality into the depths of her conscious mind, hammered and tapered down to the minimum.

Her pounding heart slowed, and gradually stilled to a low hum in her chest, the darkness and silence wrapping around her like a second flesh.

Your footfalls.

The echo of Damon’s voice rumbled in her ears.

Graceful, but deadly. Light, nimble and quick.

Ears, sharp.

Staff, out.

Listen.

And STRIKE!

The rush of the wind filled Elysia’s ears as she raised her staff to her left and viciously swung, the sound of wood meeting flesh with an immense impact resounding through the air.

Her opponent grunted at the hit, and adrenaline coursed through the young girl’s veins as the sound of feet skidding back on the cobbled floor filled her ears.

Take your eyes off the distractions.

Focus, on what is coming.

Bright blue eyes flickered slightly before the young girl inhaled a quick breath and closed them, nose to the air and ears pricking with the slightest sound of noise, like a hunter out for its own prey.

Right, over left.

The young girl lifted her feet quickly and nimbly, her soft footfalls light but too quick to detect.

The sound of a miscalculated strike boomed against the ground, a hairbreadth away from Elysia’s original position.

The young girl had instinctively twisted her body, turning it to the right and behind, her right foot stomping back in the dirty ground to regain precious footing.

But that was not to say she had escaped unharmed.

A warm trickle of blood flowed down her neck from where the weapon had nicked her.

“Good.” The low accented voice, lisping from the lack of teeth echoed darkly in the dungeon chambers. “Now, child. Again.”

The young girl’s body tensed, and the sound of wood meeting against flesh filled the air.

PurelyRed

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Source: https://elysiamaringrimm.wordpress.com/2018/04/18/exercitium-the-dungeon-of-perception/

Someone once told me, some time ago,
That the days you have now are blissful, and the days to come are not.
You see love, you see happiness,
But you’ll also see hatred and fear.
You see sunshine and rainbows,
But you’ll also see tears.
Cherish your innocence for after not long, you’ll know things you don’t want to, and they’ll keep coming on.
Never wish to grow old or wise, where you don’t know the pain,
Of seeing a bitter world where darkness reigns.

Sharmi

Letting You Go

I thought I would suffer, that my heart would be anguished with the loss of you. Or worse, maybe it would stop beating altogether.

Maybe without you, I would simply cease to exist.

I thought I would become adrift, for you had been the anchor I had formed my identity upon, the compass I had relied on for my direction. I thought without you I would become lost, disoriented.

I had expected to taste salty tears as they fell upon lips that once spoke so fondly of you; that my head would lay on my pillow damp with tears for as many nights as the moon continued to kiss the stars.

But one day, I just knew.

I hadn’t expected such a feeling of relief as I cut the ropes that once shackled me to you. One instant of tremendous clarity. One instant, where I finally knew.

I no longer needed you.

I no longer needed your opinion of me, your affirmation, your approval.

I no longer needed your judgments, your criticisms, your condemnations.

I no longer needed your expectations I could never meet; your hoops too high to jump through, your goal posts that shifted with every changing breeze.

I no longer needed your blame, your excuses, your justifications.

I no longer needed your pseudo love, fraught with conditions and attached with strings.

I thought I needed you. I didn’t.

I thought it would be hard to let you go. It wasn’t.

I thought I would miss you. I don’t.

For in one instant my heart was awakened to the truth of who I am.

I am more than the lies you made believe about myself. I am more than the look of failure in your eyes when I fell short of your demands. I am more than how worthless you made me feel. I am more than the ways you tried to break me.

I am a warrior, sculpted by the hands of creation, fashioned into being by the very hands that created the oceans and the stars and the mountains and air.

I am strong, I am brave, I am wise. I am gentle of spirit with the heart of a lioness.

I am creative, passionate, sensitive, and kind. I am of open heart and an open mind. I am powerful, generous, thoughtful, daring, empathetic, raw, complex, courageous, understanding, forgiving.

I am everything you are not.

I will no longer carry the shame you made me suffer under the weight of.

That shame belongs to you….

Ashmita

Distance – be it, friend or family,

The pain is primary.

Unfamiliar Faces

Almost pitch up your paces

You think you’re behind in your races

Not able to see that one person

Brings out your worst.

Maybe, waiting is not vague.

Maybe your distance is not a mistake

Harshita

Prologue

Mama

The deepest and fondest memory that the young girl remembered was of a soft feathery bed, warm from the fire but reeking with the smell of rotten mould. The memory itself was hazy, for fever had burned her chubby cheeks a desperate red, sweat beading the tiny child’s forehead as a lady bends over the feverish child, pressing a icy cold cloth to her forehead. The lady tending to the child was beautiful, had she not had a burn mark running across her face, hidden partially by the soft lovely locks of blonde hair that streamed from her head—the same lush curls that decorated the young feverish girl’s head.

 

Frustration coloured her youthful face, the sides of her dress slipping off her pale shoulder as she angrily throws the wet towel into the basin, the water splashing over the sides as she paced the room, the soft sounds of the young girl’s labored breaths filling the tiny, cramped and mouldy room.

 

Where was he? He promised he’d be here since Elysia fell ill.

 

She needed the right care and medicine. Things that someone in her poverty couldn’t afford to have.

 

Elysia was his niece after all, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

 

A pang of regret filled the young woman’s heart as she stared down at her fevered daughter, patting her face lightly with cold, cracked hands. It wasn’t her daughter’s fault that she was born poor, nor was it her fault that she was purposely bred for the Grimm family’s purity and pedigree. She’d tried to escape the orphanage upon receiving the news that she was pregnant after her turn in bed with the young twin of the Master of the house, but they’d found her and beat her, before burning a warning brand onto her face, ruining her beautiful face and snapping her wand into pieces. She was never taught any spells despite her abilities as a witch, and she knew little of the practical spells that were supposed to be the basics of a witch.

 

All she had were her beautiful looks, and the abnormal talent in magic that was left untapped and unhoned, and her body primed for breeding the next talented child of the Grimms with her looks and her talent.

 

Granted, Elysia would never be recognized as a legitimate child—she’d heard rumours of how they were planning on a betrothal between her child and the young Master’s only son, and dread had filled her heart.

 

She muttered a prayer quickly as she pressed another cold hand to Elysia’s burning forehead, drinking in her daughter’s chubby cheeks that were red with heat, and the beautiful features carved on her face, an exact replica of her own before her beauty had been marred.

 

“I told you to send her to me. Not make me come here.” The chair she had seated herself in toppled over as she stood abruptly, her eyes falling onto the handsome but lithe man that stood imposingly in the doorway.

 

“She’s my daughter more than yours.” Afterall, he and his twin shared the same genes, considering that they were identical twins, easily mistaken for each other.  The lady wrung her hands nervously, watching as the lithe male pressed a hand against the feverish child’s forehead with a grunt, her cheeks flushing momentarily as his fox-like eyes turned to scrutinize her scarred face with dark eyes. The young Master was so similar to his deceased brother, and still as beautiful as she remembered the night that she had been sent to his chambers upon being caught for attempting to escape, his dark eyes ever so filled with rage and anger, burning with an icy coldness that spread to his sharp cut features, and pulling his beautiful lips down into a slight unpleased frown.

 

“Pity.” Shame burned in the lady’s youthful heart as he cupped the side of her scarred face, a twisted smile of enjoyment deep on his face as he leaned close enough for her to feel the heated breath from his lips fan onto her mottled skin. “Such a beautiful waste. You’re lucky that Elysia’s inherited your looks and not mine. Makes it easier for people to accept that she is to marry my son.” A sliver of pride seeped into his voice as his thoughts turned to the young but handsome boy born to him a few years before Elysia. His firstborn, and his only acknowledged son.

 

Aurelio’s lip curled as he looked at the once beautiful woman, whose face lay ruined from her own mistakes and folly from trying to escape. Had she not had her face destroyed, he would probably have wavered in his fidelity towards Liliath. Her half of her face that was unscarred was enchanting, and the thought of it stirred his loins as he inhaled a deep breath. Unfortunately, she was spoiled goods. A slow smile spread cruelly across his mouth as he turned his sharp gaze towards the fevered child in the mouldy bed, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second with a rare moment of tenderness, his fingers tracing the beautiful contours of her immature features.

 

Such delicateness.

 

Such beauty.

 

His fingers latched onto the small hands, lifting the sweaty palm from the mouldy bedspread to trace a pathway down her veins, following the flow of the precious blood within her body.

 

Such a precious prize.

 

He’d have to take her away from this filthy breed of a lady as soon as possible, and establish his claim over her before anyone else could.

 

“You remember our deal, don’t you?” Aurelio glanced almost gloatingly at the lady that had her head down, a curtain of lush blonde hair covering the front of her face.

 

“But you said that she could stay with me until she was of age…” Tears had filled the lady’s eyes at the reminder, her breath quickening in her chest. “Elysia’s just five—”

 

“Old enough.” Aurelio waved his hand dismissively. “She doesn’t need you to coddle her. She’s of the prestigious Grimm blood, and belongs as a property of our noble household. The earlier her training starts, the better it is for her. Damon started his training when he was four. She’s already a year later than him.” His dark eyes pierced her frightened eyes threateningly. “Or we could simply do this the brutal and messy way.”

 

His gloved hand touched the center of her chest where her heart lay. “I could simply spill your blood, right here, right now, and you’d have your wondrous life ended far ahead of time, without any ounce of compensation for relieving your daughter to us. Choose one, Aura. My patience is limited, and so is her time.” Fingers tapped calculatively against the side of his pants as he watched the young girl in the bed, lightly panting as she struggled to breathe. What Aura could never know was that this sickness Elysia was suffering from was a mild result of a poison that he had slipped to the young girl while she had gone to her regular school with the other special children from the orphanage. There was no immediate endangerment to the young girl’s life, for the poison was merely a light dose of Salmonella that he’d sprinkled in her food slowly for her to ingest, until she begun showing the clear symptoms of poisoning. He’d been very careful to keep an eye on the young girl, because any slight mishap would result in such a rare specimen of a girl to go down the drain as spoiled goods.

 

Aura bit her lip tersely, her hands wringing as she glanced worriedly at the young girl in bed, burning up deeply with high grade fever.

 

“You’ll be able to save her, won’t you?”

 

“Of course.” Aurelio nodded graciously, a shine of calculativeness shining deep in his eyes. “Considering her relation through my deceased brother to our family, she’s almost like my daughter. I have the ability to ensure her survival, no matter how high the fever, something someone of your own pedigree cannot possibly do.”

 

“Alright.” Aurelio’s teeth gleamed in the ray of light that fell into the dilapidated house as Aura nodded miserably. “So what do you want me to do?” Aurelio turned on his heel, musing carefully as he paced within the room lightly.

 

He needed to ensure that this child had a secure connection with the Grimm family. That she was entirely attached to them, without any ounce of qualms holding her back. To conquer this young impressionable youngling’s feelings, the trick would have to be—he needed to make her attachment to the Grimms genuine and intense. Fear was an option that worked the best in cementing emotions like these, especially for a kind hearted child like Elysia. With that thought in mind, Aurelio turned to Aura, a light but devilishly delighted smile crossing his angular but handsome face.

 

“I want you to abandon her. Now.”

~~

“Mama.” Elysia’s eyes burned as her mother roughly jostled her from her fevered sleep, bundling her deep in a mouldy blanket in replacement for her tattered, worn clothes.

 

“Up.” The harsh timbre of her mother’s tone fell gratingly against her young, fevered ears, unfamiliar and frightening.

 

“But Mama—” Tears filled the tiny five year old’s voice as she clutched to the mouldy blankets, her body aching with fever. “I..I thought the doctor was comin’?” She peered around through rheumy eyes. “You said he was coming.”

 

“He’s not.” Her mother gave a shaky pause as Elysia yelped, the rough material of the mouldy cloth chafing her sensitive skin. “Come on. Up. Get up now.” Confusion marred the small girl’s fevered features as she obeyed.

Why was Mama being so rough?

 

She crawled gingerly from the covers, her tiny feet shaking momentarily as she flinched from the pain that rattled through her fevered body.

 

“Mama.” Her small fingers curled around the familiar rough texture of her mother’s dress, a subtle whine of pain murmuring from her lips as she attempted to bury her face into her mother’s dress, only to be roughly shoved aside.

 

Hurt and confusion marred the tiny child’s face, her feet shifting together slightly as her insecurity rose deep in her chest, the unrest only settling slightly as her mother grabbed her hand and almost yanked her out of the door.

“Mama? Where are we going?” Elysia asked for the umpteenth time as she tripped over the sharp branches on the ground, her feet aching more by the minute as cuts gradually appeared on the pale skin of her feet.

 

“Are we going to the doctors? You said they’re gonna help.”

 

“I told you to stop asking questions!” Her mother stopped in her tracks, turning to scream at Elysia abruptly, her eyes bulging half in agony at the choice she was about to make, and the other half, in an attempt to reduce the amount of attachment her young daughter had with her. “Just shut up and walk!” Her heart shredded to pieces as Elysia fell silent, trailing behind as she gripped her hand with her tiny fingers, an occasional whimper of a sob wrenching itself from the five year old’s chest. It took everything for Aura not to stop and bundle her daughter into her arms, soothing her aching legs and crying along with her—but Aurelio promised a better life for her daughter, something she could never provide—and Aura gritted her teeth, powering forward as the dark, ominous forest came to view.

Elysia blinked in confusion as her mother sat her down against a looming tree, its trunk dwarfing her small stature, the fever still burning deeply in her cheeks.

 

“Mama’s sorry for shouting at you, Lysie.” Elysia beamed happily as her mother smoothed the bangs of her sweat matted hair slightly, her eyes peering worriedly at the young girl’s flushed face.

 

“S’okay Mama.” The five year old clapped her hands to her mother’s face soothingly, planting a wet kiss on the tip of her mother’s nose. “You were angry and sad.” Her mother smiled agonizingly, fishing out a thick rope from her tattered bag, alongside a piece of well baked bread.

 

“Bean bread!” The five year old squealed as happily as she could through a scratchy throat and rheumy eyes, concealing her pain ridden body desperately with a delighted smile as she reached for the piece of bread as eagerly as she could. “Yay!” She clapped her hands, trying to lift her mother’s spirits with a few antics of her own.

 

Her mother chuckled lightly, patting her fevered cheeks fondly as she stood slightly, bending to hook the thick rope around Elysia’s waist.

“What are you doing, Mama?” A niggle of alarm filtered through Elysia’s fevered thoughts as she clutched to the baked bean bread with tight fingers, peering curiously over her shoulder as her mother unraveled the rope quickly, coiling it tightly around the huge trunk of the tree.

 

“I’m just making sure that nobody can take my little peanut away.” Her mother stooped down to beam painfully at Elysia, cupping her cheeks gently. “See?” She yanked the tightened rope, weaving it round the little girl’s shoulders, but still leaving enough room for her to lift the bread to her lips and wriggle. “Mama needs to run some errands far away, and she can’t take you with her.”

 

“But I won’t run away! I’ll stay right here!” Elysia promised, eyes wide and fervent as she clutched to her mother’s hand with a beautiful smile. “I’ll be good and stay right here until Mama comes back!” She watched as her mother’s face creased slightly with a perplexing agony, before she smiled, her eyes creasing into painful moon shapes that instinctively sent shivers down her spine.

 

“I know you will, sweetheart, but I’m doing this in case someone tries to take you away.” She murmured.

 

“Bad people?”

 

“Mhm. Bad, bad people.” She produced a lock, well oiled for the occasion. “See? Only Mama has the key to the lock that I’m gonna attach here to you.” The rope coiled around the small five year old’s body snugly, before the lock clicked with a loud jarring click, resting heavily against the tiny girl’s stomach.

 

“Mama?” Elysia felt a little forlorn as she felt her mother straighten, turning her head to follow the woman’s every other footsteps. “When are you coming back? Are you gonna take long?” Her mother’s warm hands ruffled the top of her head gently, but fondly.

 

“I’ll be as long as this bread lasts you.” She smiled, laughing lightly as Elysia immediately chomped down a huge bite of the bread, grinning through her teeth as specks of breadcrumbs speckled the corners of her cheeks and lips. “Oh dear, don’t eat so fast. Eat slowly.” She smiled with a gentle sigh as the five year old’s head bobbed up and down tightly, leaning down to nibble only a tiny piece of the bread in her hands.

 

“Like that?” Elysia beamed at her through a thick mouthful of bread, her jaws working to chew the piece of bread slowly.

 

“Just like that. Remember, eat slowly.” Elysia nodded quickly, her eyes bright as she watched her mother turn resolutely, and disappear deep into the dark, ominous forest.

 

“Come back quickly, Mama!” She called after the fading back, before leaning down to nibble yet another bit of bread off the entire piece. “I promise I’ll eat slowly!”

….

Eight hours had passed, and the tiny five year old sniffled lightly as she stared at the now small piece of bean bread held in her palms, cradling it like the most precious thing in the entire world.

 

She couldn’t eat the bread anymore—her belly was far too full, but Mama had said that she would return the moment the bread disappeared down her stomach, and for all the past five years of her life, Mama had never told her a lie, nor let her down.

 

But Elysia was bright for her age, and the series of odd actions and conversations that her usually gentle and loving mother had shown her were more than enough to send alarm bells ringing through her head, nausea cramping her stomach as she peered into the fading horizon for just a single trace of her mother, but to no avail.

 

Her nose soured, tears gathering in her sapphire eyes and blurring her vision as she stared at the small piece of bread in her grimy, sweaty hands. She sniffled, pushing back the tears and turning her eyes to the soggy piece of bread in her hands.

 

She’d promised herself not to cry. Not at least until her mother came back, and she would fulfill that promise, no matter how frightened or scared she was of the dark forest around her.

 

She lifted the salty and soggy piece of bread to her lips, her teeth clenching against each other as she tried holding back the ugly sobs that threatened to tear itself out of her chest.

 

Her Mama had promised that she’d be back by the time the bread was finished.

 

The little girl hung to that thought fervently, sniffling tightly as she smashed the last piece of bean bread deep into the confines of her mouth, the paste smearing across her lips and cheeks.

 

There. It was done. Mama should be appearing anytime now…right?

 

The five year old lifted her eyes to the inky horizon, her throat dry as she stared fiercely at the inky darkness that her mother had disappeared to hours before, the scenery before her eyes unchanging—without an ounce of another person flickering in its inky horizon.

 

Her chest heaved, the tears that she’d been holding back swimming to the forefront of her sapphire eyes, burning their way into her tired eyes as she kept her eyes plastered to the inky darkness of the forest before her, the lock that she believed only her mother could possibly unlock heaving heavily against her chest as she stared silently, lips tightly clamped, her shoulders straining against the rope that held her in place.

 

Somehow, deep down in her chest, the five year old knew that her mother wasn’t going to come back anymore.

 

There was a beat as reality sank into the small child tied to the tree, her bottom lip trembling as she hiccoughed, and finally, Elysia opened her mouth and cried.

PurelyRed

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Source: https://elysiamaringrimm.wordpress.com/2018/07/24/mama/