The Forests of Silence

The past he remembers - Debussy Clair de Lune

"Sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks." - Aahana Sharma

It was still dark outside when Brett woke up.

Sensing Brett's movement, Eddy's eyes fluttered open. He yawned and closed his eyes again.

"It's still early, Brett. Go back to sleep," Eddy tucked Brett under the cover, trapping him in his arms.

Brett couldn't go back to sleep though. The memory of yesterday flooded him as he laid in silence, wide awake. Brett watched Eddy sleeping instead. He lightly touched Eddy's scars with his fingertip, careful not to wake him up.

The scars varied in shapes, sizes, and depths. It covered his entire back as well as some of his chest.

Where did Eddy get them? And how?

Brett wondered as his fingertip faintly rested on one of the scars on Eddy's rib.

"...They are pretty hideous, right?" Eddy spoke quietly, his eyes still closed.

Brett jumped. He thought Eddy was asleep.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Brett stammered.

Eddy slowly opened his eyes.

"I got that one when I was six. I was caught stealing," Eddy talked about it as if he was talking about what he ate for breakfast.

"What about this one?" Brett touched the scars on his back.

"I don't recall much about the ones on my back. I got them when I was very little."

"And this one?" Brett traced the deepest scar on his left chest.

"That one..." Eddy paused, looking down at his chest.

"... I did it to myself."

Brett's hand stopped on that scar.

"Obviously, it didn't work out as I planned," Eddy laughed, trying to make it sound a little lighter.

Brett stared at the scars, still speechless. There was a world out there that Brett had no idea about, and he wanted to know more, more about Eddy.

"Tell me about you, Eddy," Brett pressed his forehead on Eddy's chest.

.

.

Eddy Chen.

Eddy hated his name for as long as he can remember. Nothing good happened when someone called him by his name.

Nobody exactly told him where he came from, but he heard bits and pieces from the caretakers. He was born from an affair. His mother passed away shortly after giving birth to him. His father, Anthony Chen, an aristocrat, couldn't care for him less.

Eddy grew up in the furthest corner of the mansion. He didn't remember much of his childhood in that house but whenever he tried to, he felt a sharp pain in his entire body. He could only remember tall columns of the house, long corridors filled with unused rooms. And the face of a woman hurting him. He could only assume it must have been the mistress and how he got the scars on the back.

He was six years old when he ran away.

.

.

Eddy only knew he wanted to get away from the place as far as he can. He followed the crowd until he reached the port, which he later learned it was the biggest port in Handorr, the Port Kaiim. He walked up to the back street of the bar where the busboy was taking out leftover food. Hungry, Eddy waited until the busboy left and rummaged through the trash to eat. He knew instinctively how to survive in the street.