Denial

"Now why don't we show what is under that mask?"

A sinister sounding voice. It was young, but lifeless. It sent chills through her spine. If she could have shivered she would've. Her arms were bound behind her back and thick ropes kept her tied tightly to a chair. It creaked with each subtle move she tried to make. Her eyes were covered with multiple layers of black lace. It left her vision obscured as she searched for a face. All she could see was a pair of golden glowing eyes and a toothy grin.

"No peeking," it cooed in her ear as the glowing eyes disappeared from sight.

Her breath grew ragged and uneven. Her chest felt hollow and her face numb. The chair fell back and she crashed to the ground, her vision dazed and fading to black for a few moments as she hit the hard floors. There was a laughter ringing in her ears, it was pure delight that grew from her pain. Her mouth opened to let out a painful gasp. The ropes dug into her skin as she twisted and pulled.

"Now now."

The voice was like silk, smoothly reaching her ears. Two hands had grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back up and the black lace began to slip. She desperately tried to nudge it further down. The continuous sound of lifeless giggles rang in her ears. The hands still remained on her shoulders, but she could tell the figure was behind her.  The giggles had changed so slowly she did not notice the voice was now humming a cheerful tune. Layer by layer the black lace fell before she could make out a person in front of her. She did not recognize the face and with quick slender fingers the final layer of lace was pulled away.

A horrified scream echoed from her throat. It pierced through the air as she realized the face she was looking at was her own. Scars ran over her cheeks in every direction, leaving her face misshapen and ill looking. The mirror cracked as she took in her appearance, making her scream louder at the horrifying reflection.

The figure laughed again. "Why don't we see what you're hiding!"

Such a cheerful voice. It cut through her thoughts of panic and she stopped screaming. Voices filled her head. It was her own voice, shrill laughs and mocking tones all filling her mind as she was forced to listen to the lies her lips had told. She screamed, louder every moment to cover the sound of her own voice. Her denial grew louder and thin fingers gripped harder onto her shoulder.

The screaming was muffled and turned to choking sounds as the figure behind her quickly shoved their hand in her mouth, pulling back the sides and forcing her to smile.

"Come now, why don't we see how you really look," it laughed with delight.

Claw like fingers pierced into her skin and she screamed in pain. She felt as well as watched her face being pulled back, the skin peeling away as though it were paper. Underneath her skin was black and rotten. It fell apart as the figure continued to pull away at her face. It giggled with delight, scratching and clawing until the ugly and rotten girl underneath was revealed.

"How ugly you really are!" It mocked with sinister laughter.

The binding ropes fell and the girl was pushed  from the chair. She fell roughly on her knees and her face hit against the mirror, cracking it's delicate surface even more. Her reflection was warped even further as she pressed her hands against the glass. "This isn't me! No! This isn't me!" Her voice echoed in her head as she screamed, clawing at her own face as if to reveal another layer underneath. 

Promise

"Hey, hey. Remember what we promised one another when we were kids?"

He looked forward and into the small clearing in the woods. A run down shack that was falling apart. It rested near a small stream and gurgled and lapped at the grassy banks. It was hot, the middle of summer, and the afternoon sun beat down on the back of his neck. The familiar song of summer ran in his ears. Cicadas chirped and called out to one another, the water splashed and ran its course, small animals rustled through the grass and climbed the trees. A deep feeling of nostalgia hit its course and he closed his eyes, plunging into a pool of memories from when he was young.

"Hey, don't ignore me when I'm talking to you!"

A smile fell on his lips and surfaced again, blinking a few times and walking towards the little shack. Inside still looked the same. Two old chairs sat across from one another, an old wooden table between them. There were words carved into the wood, but the years of weather made it difficult to read. He ran his fingers gently over the letters.

Let's write out a message to one another so we can come back and see them when you return.

There was a laugh that bubbled from inside him, but it wasn't enough for him to make a sound. He just breathed through his nose heavily and looked around. It had been a long time and things changed, but it still felt the same. It felt like home, a warmth he could not describe that enveloped his body. He closed his eyes and allowed it to wash over him again. He could smell the flowers, the trees, the rushing creek, and the sweet candies, sodas, and chips that had always been hidden to plunge into later on in the day. He could hear the background music of the video games that he use to play when he was younger.

Snapping back from the memories he searched the floor. His eyes were sharp and filled with desperation. The smile left his lips and he fell onto his hands and knees, running his hand across the ground until finding what he was looking for. The ground was crumbling away and he could easily push aside the dirt. Sweeping it away with his hands he found a small box still buried underneath the ground. It was left in the same position as it had been when it was buried. No one had found it and no one had moved it.

"Hey, let's read them together, okay?"

Inside the box were two pieces of paper and small object wrapped awfully in newspaper. The handwriting was scribbled messily down on the paper and it had faded with time, making it difficult to read. There was not much on either pieces of paper, but he read them both slowly. His expression changing carefully. It was gentle and soft. His lips pulled into a faint smile, but his eyes were full of pain. They began to water and the tears built. He couldn't barely finish reading the papers before he placed both on the floor.

"No peeking! It's a surprise!"

He didn't remember this being put in the box. He picked it up and carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a crudely made key chain. It looked like it was carved and he examined it further, laughing at its appearance. As he turned it in his hands, he saw that his name was carved into it as well and his laughing died down a bit and he felt his chest tighten. It was almost like it couldn't breathe and he clutched the small present tightly in his hand. His appearance crumbled as he lost his composure. He cried loudly and choked on his breaths.

As quickly as he lost his composure it was regained. The cries died down and the tears were wiped away.

"Hey, hey!"

The voice kept echoing in his head. He picked himself up, taking along the box and its contents. Outside it was still the same. The summer sun was bright, the creek kept moving, and the cicadas kept crying.

"I'm sorry, I almost forgot," he finally said with a little laugh.

"Hey, hey.. Thanks for remembering." 

Sunset

The tiny figure stirred under a large green leaf. The soft orange glow of the setting sun began to pour into the circular room. She laid in the middle, her eyes closed until a thin beam of sunlight hit her eyes. For a moment she just squinted her eyes, turning from the light and pushing the soft green leaf off her body. Underneath the cover she wore thin sheer fabric that hugged her body's shape and it's colors changed and danced within the beam of sunlight. Her bare feet touched the floor gently as she stood up, soft blonde hair cascading down her back in gentle waves. Her eyes were large and child-like, gazing as the many beams of sunlight that circled the wooden room.

She took a step back, her hand daintily reaching out for the one beam of light that had woken her up. There was not a sound to be heard under her thin fingers pushed across the light as she strummed. A small hum resonated in the room and she pulled her fingers back into position, plucking each one against the light, and as she did so the humming grew louder. A delighted laugh slipped past her soft lips.

Around the room the beams of light drew outward in a spiral pattern, the beams growing thicker the further out they went. The small figure took a small hop back, her hands held out in front of her as she danced between the beams of light, the hums varying in pitch between each beam.

Outside the hums of her music the soft murmur of animals sounded in time with the music she created. Her melody was gentle and her dance was graceful. She balanced on her toes and her fingers remained outstretched, strumming and plucking along the various lights. Her figure twirled and dance, her music echoing far from her home. The lullaby lured animals from their activities and coaxed them to a gentle slumber.

The thin fabric of her clothes danced around her, catching the sunlight and its colors changing faintly. Her hair, gold in the sunlight, shined and flew with her movements. The wind caressed her skin as her cheeks flushed with color. Her eyes brightened with amusement and her movements hardly made a sound.

The lights thinned with the lowering sun. They disappeared one by one and as she danced around the last beam of light, her lullaby came to a last soft hum of a note. The sounds of scurrying animals was no longer in the air, only soft breathing, and she placed her feet flat against the wooden floor. Moonlight glowed faintly, her figure covered in shadows as she retreated back to the center of the room. She picked up the large leaf, pulling it over her as she floated to the floor, falling into another deep slumber.

Mad

He felt the silence wrap around him. It was uncomfortable, he felt sick and he wanted to speak up, but the words remained trapped in his throat. It was as though something was forcing them back down, telling him to keep quiet because now was not the time to speak.

It was dark. The grass was cold and wet from the previous rainfall. The trees shadowed over the moon and it was difficult to say whether the crickets chirping was all in his head as a way to deal with the quiet, or were they really there. He faced forward, frozen in place and listening to the beating of his heart pounding loudly in his head. His mouth opened again to say something, but the silence forced it back down. Beside him he could feel the warm presence, but somehow it felt cold as well. Glancing from the corner of his eye he could see the figure bent forward, their head resting against their knees and eyes focused on the grass.

"I'm sorry." Finally. Finally the words could come out and he could speak. If he still feared movement he probably would have flinched after speaking, but there was no response. "Are you mad at me?" More silence and it was worse now that he had asked a question.

The pair sat in silence for a long time, until finally the other spoke up. He had not moved from his position, his face still facing downward and his voice now muffled as he adjusted his arms. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"You did what you had to do."

Silence again. He wasn't sure what to say. He swallowed hard, his heart still pounding in his ears as he stretched out his legs, finally making some sort of movement. "Really?"

"Yes."

He could tell the other was lying. He could hear it in his voice. It was broken and sad with a hint of anger. He wasn't sure if he should mention that, or go along with what was being said. He turned away from the curled up figure and stared forward again. He was angry. He could tell. It scared him that he was so silent about it. He shifted again, glancing down at his hands, bruised and bloodied. Battle scars. He clenched his fingers into fists before relaxing them again.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, still staring at his fingers.

More silence. This time the crickets stopped chirping. There was not much of a sound other than the soft wind blowing the cool night air.

Suddenly the figure beside him moved, launching himself at him and he was pinned to the grass, his eyes focused on the beady one's in front of his face. He could feel the other's hot breath against his skin and then his fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further into the ground. When he showed no signs of fighting back, the figure moved his hands to his throat, a gentle hold on it at first, then his fingers tightened.

His breathing became more ragged and sharp. He had to force himself to take deep breaths just to stay conscious. The fingers dug into his neck and he could see his vision go black, fading slowly before he could breathe again. The fingers removed themselves from his neck and he blinked a few times. Something wet had hit his face and then the weight on his chest was gone.

Now he could breathe normally. His fingers ran across his neck as he slowly sat up. His shoulders dropped and his eyes closed. Another drop of water fell.

His eyes flickered up to the sky, blocked by trees and dark clouds that slowly rolled in. "I'm sorry," he said once more to no one in particular. The figure beside him was gone and he was left alone, sitting in the wet grass as a fresh fall of rain began to steadily hit the ground. 

Letters

Within the dark cell it was impossible for him to tell if it was night or day. There were no windows. The door had no windows except for a small slot that was kept locked until he needed to eat. In one corner there was a small mattress, thrown on the floor carelessly and certainly old with age. A small pillow and thin tattered blanket accompanied the mattress. The bed was neatly made despite the old and worn materials. On the other side of the room there was a desk, round to prevent the prisoners from injuring themselves on purpose. Even then not every one received the piece of furniture. There was no chair, just a desk. On top of the desk there was papers laid out, but no pencils or pens. The printed papers were books without its binding. Once again to prevent prisoners from hurting themselves.

He wished that he could laugh at the pitiful living situation he had ended himself up in, but it was impossible. Making noises, it was prohibited and if they caught any sign of sound, even just a whisper, they were severely punished.

While he sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at the cold tile flooring, his eyes flickered to the desk. He couldn't tell what time it was. Maybe around noon. He was starting to get hungry. Noon was around the time when that happened, or what he assumed was noon. He shook that though away though, pushing himself up off the flattened mattress with a silent groan. If he could scream, he would have, just to break the never ending silence.

Once at his desk, he knelt in front of it, spreading out the papers of the book he had been given. He read it so many times he could probably recite the entire book word for word with his eyes closed. Possibly even in his sleep if he wanted. That was not what he was looking for though. He slowly shuffled through the pages, looking for the one that made him smile each time he saw it. It was hard to smile these days, but seeing this. It lifted his spirits.

Having found what he was looking for, he pulled the paper away from the rest of the story. It was a letter, addressed to him. Well, not him exactly, but his number. He no longer remembered his name. He had forgotten it long ago and ever since receiving these letters he tried to remember it. There was still no luck, but his letters had assured him that he would remember. Maybe not soon, but he would. If anything that gave the dimming flame of hope inside him a bit more of a spark.

There was a creak of metal and he quickly shoved the paper back in with the rest, turning his head towards the door. Thankfully it was not opening, just the slot that offered him his food. He got off his knees and walked towards the door as the food was slid under on a plastic tray. He was only ever given food that he could eat with his hands. Nothing that needed spoons, knives, or forks. Any utensil was out of the question. They were given water in paper cups and normally bread with some sort of meat and cheese to go with it. Not the most filling meal, but it quelled the empty belly he felt he always had. For a little while.

Normally he looked at his food with despair. It never had what he really wanted, but this time he could see it. Underneath the plate of food there was a bit of paper sticking out from beneath it. His heart jumped to his throat as he pulled the tray closer to him. He never knew who was on the other side of the door. He could never ask either. It was odd, one day receiving a paper under his tray with his 'name' written on it, but along with that letter he had been given a piece of paper and a pencil stub. He assumed it was a man on the other side, giving him these things. Whoever it was, he, or she perhaps, was helping him. Along with his food there was a stub of a pencil. Enough for him to write a page worth of words if he used it wisely.

He smiled fondly at the folded piece of paper. The one that gave him so much hope that it was beginning to get dangerous. If these promises written on paper never came true, he knew that his heart would be crushed. It never crossed his mind though, that these promises would never be real.

While he unfolded the paper, he ran his fingers over the writing. Xavier. That was the name of the person on the other side of these letters. He had been like him. Trapped and stuck because of the powers they had. Except he had gotten out. He even promised him that he would come back to save him. To free him. It was the only thing he could hold onto now. He read over his words, smiling to himself, laughing silently, an overall feeling of ease passing over him.

He had fifteen minutes to read, respond to the letter, and finish his meal as well. Normally he did not get to eat everything, because replying to the letter was his top priority.

With the pencil stub in hand and using his tray for support, he began to scribble back a reply. His spelling was awful at times, maybe even impossible to read his handwriting, but Xavier seemed to understand everything he wrote. He was getting better, his handwriting more easy to read.

Finished with his writing he quickly ate his food. It never tasted like anything. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he was not really sure. The slot underneath his door opened once more, waiting for the tray. Scrambling for his letter he sloppily folded it into threes, then placed it on the tray underneath the plate before sliding it near the slot. It was taken away from him and he would have to wait a few days, maybe weeks, for his next reply. 

Thousand

She opened her eyes slowly, her body curled into a tight ball. She felt like she was floating, that there was nothing around her and this was it. The silence screamed louder than any voice and her eyes fluttered open to reveal a large open area. There was nothing but black. She looked around, then below. There was nothing holding her, yet she was not holding herself up. Her body floated in the black mass and she was feeling as light as a feather. She reached out her hand and it moved through the air with ease before catching on something. 

Before she could wonder what it was a light had quickly blinded her, dimming slowly before a small orb floated  in front of her. Her breathing was shallow and her chest heavy as the ball of light did not move. Her hands shook in front of her, hesitant to move towards the mysterious object. The light did nothing but offer an odd warmth. It filled her chest as she moved closer to it, her hands cupped beneath it as it floated. She wondered what it was, what its purpose was. Gently she lifted her hand, lowering her finger against the ball of light. As soon as it made contact with her skin its blinding light returned.

As it dimmed her mind was filled with memories, not her own, all flickering like an old movie. It started off with a young couple and a small child. The film-like memories continued to flicker through different phases of the child's life before disappearing as the light dimmed. Her breath was caught in her throat and it took a few minutes before she could finally breathe again. Her chest rose and fell in an uneven and heavy pattern while her eyes adjusted. Now she looked around there were more of those lights. Small orbs floating around her, giving off their odd warmth. She reached forward again, touching a different one this time. 

This was different from the one before. She was filled with a deep sorrow as her eyes flickered across the memories. They began like the other, following through the child's life before abruptly ending. Her eyes blinked many times before she could focus again. She knew that light dimmed too soon.

Thousands of small lights floated around her. Some were brighter than others and some were already beginning to dim. Her fingers reached for one that began to flicker and fade. This one was different, she lost her breath as she felt thrown into a new area. As her vision cleared, she could hear cars above her. She could see people walking, pushing through the crowds, and watched as they waited for a train. No one seemed to notice her as she walked through the large group. Her heart ached as she looked through the crowd of faces, stopping on the face of one young woman. 

While she was not sure she stopped on that one face in the crowd of many, she did. There was no one else around now, no one else to focus on. Everything else was just in the background as she walked through the crowd, slipping past the many people all huddled and waiting for the next train. When she reached the woman she could see in her eyes they were empty. She focused on the tracks and was not bothered by the large crowd around her. 

She looked away from the woman, glancing at the large clock on the wall. A sudden rush of fear and worry washed over her. She felt like she was running out of time and she looked at the woman again. She touched her arm, but still was unnoticed. She walked around her and stepped in front of her. Once again she looked at the clock. Around her no one noticed the lonely woman standing near the platform of the train. She took the woman's head in her hands and kissed her forehead. She watched her blink a few times before the lifeless look in her eyes left and she turned away from the platform. The rush of anxiety left her and she felt her body being pulled once more.

Out of breath again, she was blinded. She had been sucked back into that dark abyss. Thousands of little lights floating around her, but the one she had just touched stopped flickering. It was brighter than before and she held the floating orb in her hand, cradling it close to her with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. 

Snowflake

Torn wool blankets covered two trembling bodies that laid on the ground. One stirred beneath the thinning material, causing the tarp beneath him to crinkle softly. While he moved, his face remained on the child beside him, still asleep despite all of the noise. Once safely off the noisy bed he moved towards an empty fire pit, kneeling down beside it with a tired face. Dirt and ash was smeared along his cheeks and he pulled the dirty gloves off his hands to rummage through the items collected and piled together in an old wagon. His eyes flickered to the small mound across from him. Watching as the blanket rose and fell with struggled breaths. 

He said nothing as he found what he was looking for. Nearly the last of the canned food that they had. The original paper telling what was inside had been torn away, leaving it to be a surprise as he grabbed a knife from his pocket, flipping open the blade and cutting open the can. It didn't even matter what was inside as long as it was something they could eat. 

All the small movements and noises had finally woken the child up and he quickly sat up. His clothes hung off his thinning frame. His face looked nearly hollow, eyes sinking in, and dark circles forming underneath them. A large knitted hat covered his dirty hair. The brown curls poking out underneath as he carefully pulled the blanket off of himself. 

"It's cold," the boy stated as he moved. His voice was dry and cracked as he spoke. 

"It's nearly winter," he responded with a simple voice, having nothing more to say. There was nothing more to say. Saying it was cold would not change the fact they had no home to sleep in. They could have no fire to keep them warm, and nothing to shelter them from the storms. "I can't start a fire." 

"I know."

"Come over here," he told him, waving a hand to get the boy to sit beside him. The smoke of the fire could very well kill them if they were not careful, if they were not alert. He took the can of food, hovering his hand over the smoldering remains of the previous fire. It was still warm, not nearly enough to cook the food, but enough to keep the boy warm. "Eat this," he told him and handing over the can. 

"What about you?"

"I will eat what you don't," he responded, knowing there was going to be food left in there no matter how the situation played out. There was not much food left and they needed to make it last until more was found. His eyes flickered to the boy who sat close to the dying ashes of the fire as he ate. 

There was a faint rustle in the trees and he looked up. Their branches were bare and black, the sky a permanent grey. He felt something touch his leg, the can of food. He looked inside seeing about half was already gone. He didn't pester the child to eat more, because he knew it would not happen. He finished off what was left and sat there in silence. 

"We have to move?"

"Yes. Are you ready?" he looked to the boy as he knelt beside the fire pit, staring at it with tired eyes. He waited for the nod before pushing himself up, slipping the gloves back on his hands as he began to fold the blanket and rest it on top of the wagon. Next was the tarp, folded enough to cover the items inside the wagon. The boy was already up, standing beside him with his arm outstretched. "Just a little bit farther and we can find somewhere to stay for a few days," he promised to the child as he took his hand, the other grabbing the wagon handle. 

The pair slowly made their way out of the forest, the wagon creaking under the weight it was holding. They finally reached the road. It was covered with crashed cars, glass, and fallen trees. A layer of ash laid over everything, even themselves as they began to walk south. 

"It's snowing again," the boy said, referring to the ash that was slowly falling from the sky. The older teen lifted his head, looking up to see dark gray clouds roll by. 

"It is," he replied, narrowing his eyes a bit as he felt something wet on his face. A snowflake had fallen with the ash, melting against his skin. "Look closer," he told the boy. He watched as the child looked around, before he felt it too, the snowflake melting against his skin and he had quickly held out a gloved hand, catching a mixture of the blackened snow as well as a fresh snowflake.