the wolf ; rigel wilde

ii. young heart of mine

❝ Silent tears hold the loudest pain ❞

ten years ago
Rigel

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Amaya had arrived at Grave. Two weeks since her, and only her, had been infecting my mind. Since the moment I had laid eyes on her, I felt myself draw towards her. Her smile. Her everlasting kindness. Her eyes. Everything about her had me entranced, my mind going blank whenever she was in the same room as me. But I couldn't let her get into my head, I can't let my heart take full reign of my actions. She can't have someone like me in her life, and yet I always found myself thinking of her in the dead of night, wanting to eliminate her pain.

Mrs. Margaret knew ever one of our fears and dreams, but no one had it as bad as Amaya. Every one of us was subjugated to physical abuse, except me, but with Amaya, it was on a whole other level. When Margaret was informed of the events prior to the girl arriving at the orphanage, and the tragic passing of her parents, she used that to punish her.

I quietly walked towards the classroom, sliding into my seat but the window as all the other children filed in. Amaya was the last one, she stopped at entrance to the classroom, her eyes scanning the room for an available seat, and the only one, much to my dismay, was beside me. I couldn't have her sitting next to me, I thought about her when she wasn't around, even more now that she saw so near. She made her way across the classroom, giving me a curt smile as she sat down. The butterflies in my stomach came to life with just that one smile, thumping against my ribcage.

I kept my head down as the lesson started, not daring to look at the girl sat beside me. But for some odd reason, I could feel her eyes on me every once in a while, like she was trying to get me to look at her, but I couldn't. I knew that if I, just for a second, were to look at her, I feared I'd never be able to look away.

Mrs. Margaret spoke up, snapping me out of my trance, but she wasn't speaking to me; she had called on Amaya. "Amaya, can you tell me the seven timetables?" The brunette girl beside me began to recite the sums, but when she got to 7x8, she got the answer wrong. The woman began to stride forward towards the girl seated next to me, and I could feel her curl into herself and become smaller in fear. She grasped her arm, lifting her out of her seat, "That's incorrect Miss Rossi, come with me."

Just the words 'come with me' and everyone already knew what was going to happen.

"No please Mrs, it was only one mistake. It won't happen again I promise!" The young girl cried as she was taken down the hallway. Everyone came out from the rooms as Amaya's voice echoed down the corridors. No one dared to follow behind, simply lingering in the hallway as we heard Mrs. Margarets heels click on the stone floors as she descended to the cellars.

Amaya's broken cries rung through my ears, as a piece of me broke. Sure, I was young, but, age doesn't define how broken you are. I couldn't stand hearing her cry, the pain and fear evident in her voice. No one knew about what torture Amaya had to endure, except me.

I waited until Mrs. Margaret had come back up before I slipped into the shadows and down the stairs to where Amaya was restrained. Heat began to attack my skin as I reached her cellar. The small circle of fire surrounding her emitted more heat than it appeared, making my skin hot and sweaty, but I didn't care. I got as close to her as possible, not being able to reach her hand, or else I'd get burnt, and that could lead to even worse punishments for the young girl. All I could do was whisper comforting words to her.

"You're going to be alright Amaya, I'm here." The words fell out of my mouth as no more than a whisper, in fear that Mrs. Margaret would hear me. Amaya didn't open hear eyes at the sound of my voice, but I could tell that she was surprised that someone was down here with her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, one after the other, almost like a waterfall. But she was silent, no sounds being emitted from her mouth, apart from the occasional whimper in pain. She was accustomed to it. This was the seventh time she had been down here since she arrived at Grave on that somber Monday morning.

I remembered the first time I came down here to comfort her; she was screaming and crying in panic as the flames danced around her. When I spoke to her, she fell silent, like my voice had reached deep within her. "Mother?" She choked out as a tear rolled down her cheek. No. It wasn't her mother; it was me. But I didn't have the courage to tell her that. I couldn't let her know that I cared about her more than I let off. I would do anything for her. I would risk my life for her.

Some would state that I knew nothing about love, that I was too young. They would say I was naive, and that once I grew up I would realise that everything I felt was irrelevant. Yet I knew that none of that was true. I knew what I felt for Amaya, no one could make my heart beat as fervently as it did for her, but she would never know. She could never know, because I couldn't have her. She would grow up and want someone who can love her, treat her the way she deserves to be treated. And I can't give her that. I don't know how to love, or what love is; but my heart knows it's Amaya Rossi.