No Hands but My Own

Chapter 24 -- Mirror

Pulsing blood.

You never realize it until it’s there, pressing and pulling across your veins, screaming at you to pay attention to the rough heat of the air, to the strength of the force just beneath your skin. I tried to open my eyes but my right eye was fused shut, the flesh around it raw and rebellious. My mouth sagged as I panted through the stiff pain across the right side of my face.

I swung my head, careful not to send my mind spinning with too quick a motion. Silver walls surrounded me, they reflected my sorry state back onto myself a million times.

Well, I look terrible.

Tied to a pole in the middle of the shining box, I could view my battered body from every angle. I examined the way my robes seemed to have acquired a few new tears, the way that the reds, blues and purples mixed on my skin in a riot of unnatural color, the way that I sat limply as cables held me upright. I suddenly noticed how difficult it was to breathe deeply; even my short pants were sharp with pain. Odd pains when I moved from side to side in an attempt to work out the stiffness associated with sitting too long in the same position gave me the impression that it wasn’t just my face that was riddled in blooming bruises.

Lovely. Just lovely.

I glared at my reflection. Uselessly, I tried to kick out to the wall and perhaps muss its mirror-like shine a bit. My outstretched foot fell short. My reflection had gone from being a tormentous reminder of failure to being cruel torture, sitting just out of reach.

To distract myself, I began to hum so that no one could hear me groan as I shifted from one side to another. The notes mixed and melded because of the shining walls and soon the music was overwhelming my every sense. It grew so strong that it lifted my head, straightened my back and made all the pains fade. Bangs resounded on the shining ceiling above me, mixing with my voice in a precious symphony. Reminded of the outside world, I started to sing wordlessly in time to the bangs, harmonizing with the echoes, the song deafening.

A wall suddenly disappeared, letting all the notes vivaciously erupt into the calm of the world outside.

A silver handed man and a noble walked up to me from the blinding light. The silver-handed man raised his staff. "Stop."

I chuckled, weary. "Or what? You'll kill me?

"Yes." the richly attired noble answered.

"So unimaginative. You could do something so much more creative if you tried. Go on." I waited expectantly.

They stared at me in silence. I began humming again, ignoring the silver staff pointed right at my face. Without breaking eye contact, I started swaying to the rhythm of the ditty I had created, tapping my toes to the beat. I could see the noble stiffen, unsure of how to proceed. It was understood that in some way I was needed alive otherwise Dilenkeh would have done what he was good at and finished the job. And so, I watched the noble waver between acting on his threat or succumbing to my own.

The noble tapped the silver-handed man’s arm, causing him to lower his staff. Leaving my cage smirking, the noble strutted, the soldier following behind, and shut the wall behind him. For a moment I couldn't hear anything but my muted humming, then the noble’s steps banged across the ceiling of my metallic box. I ignored him and started to sing again. Simultaneously, there was a crash above me and the world flashed. Pain wracked my body. Head thrown back, I grit my teeth as my limbs jerked uncontrollably within the tight bindings. My chest ached with the breath I couldn't catch. It was just like when the half-masked rider had punished our cart. This time, however, I wasn't strong enough to stop my scream.

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Slumped against the icy pole, I let the cool bindings dig deeper into my skin. My bones ached. My hands ached. My head ached. My throat ached. I ached.

I could still hear the ringing sound of my own scream echoing in my ears, amplified by the walls of my prison. I was starting to think that the noble above me could see me through the ceiling because every time I began to move, began to gather my strength and broken pride, the pain would come again.

I wanted to stop trying. Stop trying to sit upright, stop trying to fight back, stop trying to try. But every time I thought I could just sit there and accept my failure, I'd see my reflection and my mind would be flooded.

Primitive, wrong, dangerous.

Invariably, I'd move to escape the words pecking and pulling at me.

Inevitably, the pain would come, bringing it with it new words.

Useless, stupid, idiot, fool, reckless, thoughtless.

Hopeless.

And so I'd try to run.

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At some point, between the waves of pain and torment, I could hear muted voices through the silvery walls of my prison. I could just hear the excited tones through the sound of my own reverberating pants. The sudden sound of people or things striking my cell made me start but I did not move. I didn't move when the cacophony grew to an unbearable pitch. I was simply too tired and incapable of covering my ears.

The noises stopped for a moment and then the floor began to tilt. I grabbed the pole behind me with my tied hands and felt the entire box shift and raise so that I looked like I was standing upright and bending over. Balanced for a moment in this precarious state, I hoped that the world would right itself again. Moving the wrong way, the box tumbled around me in a blur of silver light. I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped my lips. Nor could I stop the bone-jarring impact from making me groan. Hanging from the pole like a sticked pig, the cables tying me to the pole were the only reason I hadn't fallen face-first onto the floor like a balloon that’s lost its air. Cutting into my body, the cables burned cold. I couldn't breathe. The restraints that had saved me from more pain were killing me now. My hands scrabbed at the pole, desperate to ease some of the pressure binding my chest but the sleek metal just slid under my fingertips. I started to kick and struggle with the bonds unconsciously, knowing that it would only make it worse.

Light lit up my side and a slight breeze entered the cage, prompting me to twist my head as spots danced before my eyes. Two silver-handed men strode in, their regular thudding steps echoed loudly. Raucous voices and laughter bounced in too, a cruel reminder of the hostility that was sure to come.  The silver-handed men snapped the cables holding me hostage. Air rushed into my lungs, a painful nirvana. Hands pulled  at me, much too tight for  my bruised skin, dragging me into the noisy light.