Behind The Bars [Short Story] ✅

Part 4

I've been here for a month already, and I am already adapted. Not fully, but at least I am getting used to the things going on around here, such as waking up as early as the break of dawn and going down to breakfast with the rest of Dungeon 52. They also let me take a thirty-minute shower at least three to four times a week - situated just two floors up - since they need to keep us all under their watch, and they can't do that when the whole prison takes a shower. I even interact with some of the detainees here, but so much as I interact with Edgar, because for one, he is my only company. Besides, I kind of agree with him when he stated that the creatures here are friendlier than the so-called delinquents - despite being one myself. I mean, I have already learnt the names of the elves in the kitchen.

Edgar and I become quite close. It is kind of bizarre to me, to have someone to talk to everyday, as I never talked much back in my hometown. With Edgar, everything seems more natural, more serene. What I have come from this might just be the fact that I've never had friends before. Maybe I have, but the people from my school were hardly my classmates. I always shut myself off, due to the fact that nobody seemed to want to socialize with me. Well, either that, or maybe it's merely the tense vibe that radiates off of me. But Edgar here is different. He simply doesn't care. "Laid-back" should be the correct term for me to describe him. That is why I am getting more comfortable and lighter to talk to him.

Because I've also realized that, due to my anger issues, I tend to keep my mouth shut. And when I don't keep it shut, I will simply rage on like a never-ceasing firework. With Edgar here, I can finally learn how to properly control it; it takes one look at his bright, green eyes, and it is enough to extinguish what little fire is starting to develop from the pit of my stomach when I feel like it. He is, after all, the only real company I have left. Other than him, I'm as still as a coal.

Edgar makes me feel safe.

He's also quite humorous. There are times when I am almost at the verge of my usual outbursts, and he will have this little twitch at the corner of his lips that reaches his eyes, and I'll look at his eyes, and I'll calm down. As a result, I hardly ever snap at him like I had been doing during the first week of my dwelling. It isn't because he's just a year older than I am (he said he had just turned seventeen), or he's taller than me by an inch, or he's been here longer than I am; rather, it's because he knows how to cool me down without actually doing anything, and nobody has ever done that before. All in all, Edgar has broken the record.

One night, Edgar shakes me awake. When I open my eyes, I am momentarily puzzled on why it is still dark outside. The cell is dimly lit by the glow from his eyes - as usual. "Raine," he is saying to me, poking me with something. "Raine, oi. Wake up."

I turn on my mattress to find him sitting back on his heels. I blink.

Because there's an eagle owl perched on his shoulder, staring at me with its huge, yellow eyes. My eyes focus on the owl, and I realize that I recognize the little scar on the side of its left eye. This causes me to sit up at that very instance.

"What is it?" I ask Edgar, not taking my eyes off the owl. I've seen this owl a lot back home ...

"This owl came through that window and carrying this envelope-"

"What envelope?"

"This," and Edgar holds up a small envelope between his fingers that he has used to poke me just now, to which the eagle owl tries to nip at it.

I take it and pull out the letter from inside. My heart gives a leap as soon as I see the handwriting, and I can already feel my eyes brimming with tears. Because now I remember to whom this damned eagle owl belongs, and exactly whose handwriting this is: