Forgotten Monsters

Chapter 23- Talk

The innkeeper glared suspiciously down at Resa, causing her to shift uncomfortably. The man’s gaze then turned to Matthew and Resa felt equally relieved and sympathetic that his scrutiny had been focused on the young man.

            “So you say you’re married.” The man looked dubious and Resa felt her stomach contract.

            Luckily Matthew stepped in to save them. Beaming convincingly he said, “Yes for about a year now.” The man raised an eyebrow again staring at the duo. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he pulled a key from under his desk and handed it to them, accepting the money Resa had set out on the counter.

            “Don’t break anything.” He warned them, but Resa had already snatched up the keys and started to leave, eager to escape the old man’s distrustful stare.

            The room was simple. A bed was pushed into one corner and two chairs and a rug facing the fireplace filled the other. Matthew set down his bag next to Resa’s. After Cain had been taken away they had snuck back into the house to pack supplies and cover Wicks’ body up.

            “That man scared me more than the soldiers.” Matthew said. Resa cracked a smile.

            “I’d rather fight my way out of prison again than have him interrogate me again.” Matthew pulled the book out of him pocket, the imprint on the side barely visible in the rapidly dimming light.

            “You should keep this. I can’t read.” She took it from him and flipped it open, sighing.

            “I doubt it would help anyways, it’s all in code.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and peered at its contents, squinting in the faint light. Matthew crouched down next to the fireplace and set to work making the fire.

            “Do you want me to teach you to read?” Resa asked once he was done making the fire. A warm glow lit the room and Resa felt her toes begin to defrost.

            “I won’t have much use for it.” Matthew said doubtfully.

            “At least let me teach you your name.” He conceded. Resa closed the book and tucked it into her apron pocket before going to sit beside Matthew in front of the fire. In the ash that had fallen from the grate she wrote out his name.

            She sounded it out for him, nodding when he finally got it right.

            “Matthew.” He wrote it out in the ashes next to her, his letters shakier than Resa’s. He grinned when she nodded her head. “So how did you learn to read? I mean, I know your mother taught you.”

            “But why?” Resa laughed. “I was the youngest in a family with five children, none of them ever wanted to play with me so I always helped my mum with the washing - she was a washing lady. I wasn’t much help though so I suppose she taught me to read so that I wouldn’t hinder her work as much. It worked; from then on I always had my face in a book.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “I haven’t read more than signs since I was thirteen though.” At this tears gathered in her eyes. Unexpected, she never cried about her mother anymore.

            “Here, try writing your name again.” Matthew stared at her, raised a hand to comfort her, touch her, but then he lowered it and simply spelled out his name again. It was easier that way. “Good! I think you’ve got it.”

            He cocked his head to the side. “I suppose so.” He murmured. “Will you teach me more?” He asked.

            “Of course. We’ll find a book to read from. I’d like to read again.”

            “Aydrus knew how to read.” Matthew mumbled.

            “What was she like - before?” Resa asked quietly.

            Matthew smiled faintly, a sad, soft smile that was beautifully tragic. “She was full of life. Nothing could get her down, you know?” He turned to look at Resa and she nodded. “She was lovely and sweet and innocent.” At this his face clouded over. “And then they took her, and that witch stole her heart from her.” He didn’t continue; just let his head sink down into his knees in defeat.

            “She was the one who told me I had to escape. She believed I could. Without her I would still be down there.” Resa shuddered. The low moans that vibrated through the cells, the filth that coated ever surface, the dank moldy smell of rotting flesh, she couldn’t forget it. Matthew raised his head and looked at her as she watched the fire, avoiding his eyes.

            “So you’re here and she’s not.” Matthew said bitterly. His words were unfair and he knew it. She flinched and hurt flashed in her eyes as she shifted away from him. But somehow he couldn’t make himself take the words back. They hung in the air, a wall between them.

            “I’m going to go and find more blankets; there aren’t enough.” She leapt to her feet.

            “Resa…” But she had rushed out of the room.

            He groaned and kicked the wall. Stupid.

            Cain washed his hands carefully, wincing as the water touched the deep gashes in his arms. They were self-inflicted; he had probably done it to himself when the queen had made him visualize beetles that crawled inside his skin, torturously painful. He squeezed his eyes shut for ten seconds. Ten seconds to pull himself together before he walked out that door.

            He opened his eyes and left. His long dark sleeves covered the scratches and his lip was healing well from where he had bitten it to keep from screaming, but the dark circles were clearly visible, even on his already dark skin. Cain molded his features into a mask of indifference, determined not to let anyone know the turmoil that ravaged his insides.

            It was going great until he collided with a maid. She went tumbling back down the stairs, a look of terror on her face. He lunged forward and caught her wrist, stopping her from falling. She gasped, then her face shut down and she glared at his hand on her wrist. He righted her before letting go.

            “Sorry.” He muttered, not entirely sure why he was apologizing. She turned around and haughtily marched down the stairs, crouching down and picking up her cargo once she reached the bottom. He quickly descended and started to help her, his old habits returning.

            “Do I know you?” He asked. He swore she looked familiar with her golden curls and icy blue eyes. She stood up and glowered down at him.

            “No.” She spat. Now he was sure, he followed her as she spun on her heal and strode away.

            “Yes I do. How do I know you?” She sighed and turned to face him. Her face wrought with so much hatred that he took an involuntary step back.

            “Well if you must know, you killed my sister.”

That was rather mediocre. Sorry.

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