HBHM (hiatus)

one

| nightmare

A group of men barged into the chamber, the expression on their faces striking fear into Evarose's heart and soul. They began to walk towards her mother, their footsteps shaking the very ground she was standing on. She held her mother's hand tightly, hiding behind her mother's white dress.

"What do you want, General?" her mother asked the man who seemed to be the leader. He may be wearing the same uniform as the other soldiers, but the polished gold medallion that hung proudly upon his chest ruled him superior.

He kept a fixed gaze on the poor girl.

"Hand her over," he declared harshly, rudely, taking one step forward.

Her mother stepped squarely between her beloved daughter and the general, using her slim body to shield her daughter from his gigantic frame. Evarose was all she had left to cherish in her life. No matter what price she had to pay, she couldn't lose her beloved daughter now. As a mother, she has to do whatever it takes to make sure her daughter is safe.

"She has done nothing, General. You are not taking her anywhere," she said, her tone determined, demanding.

The man with the medallion just glared at the woman. "You dare defy orders from your king? I can have you sentenced to be hanged, if not behind bars."

Evarose shuddered, frightened. She gripped her mother's cotton dress, not wanting to be taken away. Her mother, despite the man's threats, stayed strong and steeled herself against the general's imposing threat.

"Give me the girl, or you'll suffer severe consequences!" he repeated, his voice now louder and brimming with high authority. He drew his sword from his side, a crude thing to look at. It was a weapon that depended on brute force to hack through sinew and bone―the perfect warrior's weapon.

With a flick of his wrist, the point of the knife was now held at the woman's throat. She held her dear daughter's hand tightly.

He narrowed his eyes, and she didn't doubt the cruelty in his eyes. "Do not make me attempt something I will regret."

She remained silent, unsure of what to do next. If she made a single move, her life would be forfeit and she would no longer be there to protect her child. And yet, despite that, she could not just simply do as the General wished and surrender her beloved girl, now only a mere six years of age.

The truth was right in front of her, the truth which she was not willing to accept.

Evarose was the unlucky one.

She needs to be taken away.

She stared upon the mirror in disgust. She had seen her reflection a thousand times but could never get used to such a terrifying figure. In a fit of anger, she took her hair brush―the one she had been using to comb her hair with earlier―and hurled it at the mirror.

The mirror shattered into a million pieces that caught the sunlight and shimmered like little diamonds. On the floor, mirror shards stubbornly reflected her face, making it look more distorted than ever.

Last night's dream replayed in her mind, and she sighed.

Such misfortune. She'd barely escaped her worst living nightmare; yet it persistently kept reappearing in her dreams.

Memories came to her and with a racing heart, she let it play. She never liked it, but they took longer to vanish if she resisted. Closing her eyes, she pictured the dreary and depressing cell in the castle she used to live in.

Cold and gloomy, each cell was carefully designed to hold one back from the freedom which one would long for. Barred doors and lack of windows was enough to slowly drive their sanity away. The filthiness was unbearable―rats and other unhygienic pests would scurry across the floor, picking up any leftovers from meals.

A guard was stationed at every post to monitor and survey the area to make sure prisoners never make it out. Any rebelliousness could prove hazardous and further punishment would await one who did. Not that anyone tried.

But the inhumane thing was the torture: barbaric and so unimaginably cruel. It was ruthless, merciless bloodshed.

How many times had she shut her eyes, cover her ears and block her mind from the inhumane acts of torture a cell or two away? How many times had she experienced it herself?

She had felt the crack of the whip against her bare back numerous times, one that frequently caused her skin to break open and ooze. Depression, fear and loneliness were her only companions behind bars. Occasionally she'd shed a tear for a fellow dead prisoner, but that was all she could do.

Yes, she had been young, but that never stopped the king.

She understood how cruel and despicable he could be―she knew that very well.

Countless scars and burns marked her body, never fully healed. They might easily blend into her skin one day, but there will always be a memory, a phantom moment of pain, behind them.

And to think, as broken as this girl was, she had the only key of stopping the one who had, and will, cause pain and destruction.