To Sing the Tortured to Sleep

I. The Awakening

I wanted to shake my head, in hopes of responding with some sort of dignity. Unfortunately, the pain in my head wished otherwise and I muttered a small, "No."

I heard the loud stomping of hooves as the carriage pulled to a slow halt. It seemed that the wind had stopped, for now at least. I managed to look out the window, catching view of the castle before us. It was a magnificent off-white color that showed off its age. Its large wooden doors spanned nearly a quarter of its size, and I briefly wondered who would need such a big door. Its windows were plentiful, though all were covered from the inside by curtains, as if the castle had something to hide. The castle in itself had a mysterious aura, and for some reason I was frightened to enter. For a moment, an image of a library flashed in my mind, though it left as quickly as it had come. I was left with the fleeting impression that somehow, someway, I’d been here before.

The man I had been resting on helped me up and carried me out of the carriage, undoubtedly ignoring my look of surprise. "Close your eyes," he warned, "it's a security measure.”

There was not a single sound after I closed my eyes. The horses stopped their snorting and the driver disappeared. When I was allowed to open my eyes I was lying on the cushion of a rather comfortable couch, set in what appeared to be a living room. The room spanned fifty feet at least, and its ceiling were raised to a height that I imagined the tallest ladder could just barely reach. The walls were lined in a thick red, and the room was decorated by several figurines, mostly angelic and religious. The room smelt faintly of lilac, though I blamed that on the two candles that sat on opposite sides of the room. I wondered how we'd entered the castle, as the large wooden door of the front entrance would have made a echoing creaky sound, or so I'd assumed. The man from the carriage was tucking the blanket around me so that it hugged my every curve. Had the blanket not been so warm, I would have scolded him for touching me.

Once I was tucked in, I was introduced to Dr. Johnston, a skinny man who, judging by his age, had only recently graduated college. He wasn’t nervous in the least, evidently confident in his profession. Unlike General Montgomery, Dr. Johnston’s face wasn’t familiar in the least bit. In fact, I was certain that I’d never seen it before in my life.

“My father insisted that this young lady,” General Montgomery told Dr. Johnston with a slight gesture in my direction, “should go through a general examination. Who knows what they could’ve done to her...”  he trailed off.

From far away, Dr. Johnson seemed to be a respectable man. He gave a soft smile as he approached me, taking care to make sure he didn’t frighten me. However, as he closed in on me I started to see behind his mask. Evidently, I was the only one who noticed something off about him. He had a soft expression, one doctors were taught to practice in order to make children feel more comfortable when being examined. I was not a child though, and I didn't like this man one bit. Just the sight of him sent a chill down my spine.

Dr. Johnson approached the couch slowly. “I’m going to need you to remove the blanket,” he mentioned to my acquaintance, who gently unwrapped me. His eyes were bulgy and black, reminding me of that of a frog. His cold, bony hands made contact with my skin, and at that moment, his fingers possessed a hint of green.

I let out a scream the second I felt Dr. Johnson's freezing hands. A flash of white terror made my stomach curl. My mind went blank and I felt fear, and only fear.

“Kain, restrain her!” the doctor ordered urgently to the man from the carriage.

Kain wrapped the blanket back around me, held me, and told me to close my eyes until I felt calm. He rocked me back and forth, whispering that the doctor meant no harm and it was a necessary examination. His hands were warm and soft, unlike the cold brittle hands that belonged to the hard working doctor. I didn't know why, but I wanted to be as far away from Dr. Johnson as possible.

When I opened my eyes the doctor was still present, but I heard Kain giving him strict directions. He was so quiet, I could barely make out what he was saying to the doctor.

“Warm your hands Marc, she’s freezing. Be gentle, she was just attacked--”

“Attacked by what?” Dr. Johnson responded, a hint of intrigue in his voice. Kain ignored his question and the doctor soon began the examination again, careful not to touch me. The only spot he lingered was the area of matted blood on the back of my head. “She was definitely knocked over the head with something, but she seems to be okay. It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Just be careful to be gentle around that area, unless you would like me to bandage it?” the doctor asked and I quickly shook my head. “As for her memory, I would give it some time to come back. She must have been hit hard if she lost it to begin with.”

“Thank you for your services. Your payment will be sent immediately,” Kain told the doctor as he escorted him out. When he approached me this time, he knelt at the side of the couch and asked, “Would you mind if I took a look at something? I promise that I won’t hurt you.”

For some reason, I believed him. His soft voice was convincing, and he’d had my best interest so far. I couldn’t sense anything off about him, and I was far more comfortable around him. He gestured for me to roll onto my stomach and once I was turned over he pulled at one of the tears in my nightgown. I was about to scold him, sure that he was trying to undress me, until he spoke. “Four?” he asked.

"What?"

“Tell me, do you know what the roman numeral for the number four is?”

“IV?” I asked, wondering why Roman numerals were on the top of his list of concerns.

“You have the number four on your back, I think it’s in...” he began, trailing off as he rubbed a finger against the mark gently, “It’s definitely ink. It’s permanent," he pointed out.

I twisted, straining to see the faint IV that was written on my back. I didn’t remember it, and it was in such a position that I wouldn’t have noticed it on my own. Kain seemed equally as confused about the mark, so we decided to ignore it for now.

Soon, Kain called a maid into the room. “Start a warm bath for the young lady, maybe that will warm her up.”

The maid agreed without question, scurrying off to start my bath water. Something about the girl was unsettling. She looked to be no older than I was, though she had rough bags under her eyes. She was rather skinny with a typical black and white dress on, carrying a wet rag around with her to clean anything she could find. There were bruises lining her arms, and with a fleeting curiosity, I wondered if Kain had inflicted them on her.

“How did she get those bruises?” I asked once the maid had left the room, whispering so that she could not hear if she was still close by.

“Father likes to make sure the maids are obedient,” Kain explained with a sigh, “I don’t approve what so ever, but it’s out of my hands.”

I knew it would be wrong to press the subject, and I didn’t want to anger Kain since he had been so nice to me already. I couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why do I trust him?  I still didn’t know how Kain had found me, but I wouldn’t push the issue until I was warm and comfortable. It would be a shame to be escorted out so soon.

While I was lost in my thoughts, my eyes lingered on the glitter of the wings of an angelic figurine. It was the purest white, with delicate feathers that glitter in the faint candlelight.

Kain noticed my interest and gave me a childish smile. “Well, it looks as if we’ve found you a name, Angel.”