You sat in the office, your backpack resting between your legs. Your head hung low as you stared at your hands folded in your lap. The door opened and in walked Mrs. Sharon Lyle. She crossed the room and slipped into her seat across the desk from you. Her clipboard tapped the desk, and she slipped off her glasses.
"YN," she sighed. "It's good to see you again." You glanced up at her through your hair over your face.
"I wouldn't say this is good," you retorted. She sighed rather defeatedly.
"Yeah, I guess so."
It was four years ago that you watched your mother get shot in the street by a passing car. It was the worst moment of your life, covered in your mother's blood on main street. That's when Mrs. Lyle took you in as a ward of the state. You got sent to your aunt's house a week after it happened.
It had been four years of hell living with your Aunt Justina and your cousins, Luke and Jacob. The state didn't know anything about Luke trafficking drugs through the house. Aunt Justina had told you to keep your mouth shut about it.
'It's what feeds you. If you have an issue with it, then don't eat', she'd say. With so many strangers in and out of the house at the strangest hours, there wasn't much stability. It got worse when Jacob accidentally began ingesting things. When inhalants get into the air vents, there is no avoiding them. If you could've chosen to simply stop breathing, you would've.
It all ended only two nights ago. Another one of Luke's nameless and faceless friends brought something. You had been in your room. You didn't know anything of it, not until there was a soft thud against your door. You tried to push it open to see what had happened, but you were met with resistance as if something was slumped against it. Panicking, you pushed and pushed, banging your fists against the door.
It was eight minutes before someone downstairs heard you screaming. Eight minutes of Jacob laying against your door, frothing at the mouth after someone had stupidly given him something, as if he'd been trying to get to you just before the overdose took over. The human brain can only last 10 minutes without oxygen.
You were seventeen. He was twelve.
"Listen," Sharon sighed. "We have a home set in place for Jacob when he's out of the hospital, but there are no homes currently available to house a seventeen year old. It's just not feasible." You sighed.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Mrs. Lyle shuffled through her papers, searching for a simple solution.
"Well, I see that you've been working for several years and building up some savings. You seem to have enough to live comfortably for a while after you turn 18. But we still have a couple months until your 18th birthday. So, after looking through the records, I found a possible home."
You cocked your head to the side. 'Possible' wasn't too bad.
"It's in northern Minnesota, so we'll be sending you on a plane." You rolled your eyes.
"Northern Minnesota? That's hundreds of miles away. What's up there?" There would be no reason for them to send you up there unless there was something there. They wouldn't waste money on a plane ticket otherwise.
"Oh, um. Your biological father, according to our records." You froze up in your seat.
"Uh, I was told there was no father listed on my birth certificate," you responded. She shrugged.
"No, he was listed on hospital records. We just hadn't considered him an option because of the distance as well as him being indisposed for several years. But now he seems to be in a situation that can support a child of your age." You sighed. "Doesn't really help that it seems that he legally changed his name. That makes people rather difficult to find."
It felt like a whirlwind, with time only thinking to give you a glimpse every couple hours. But days later, you're on a plane to the borders of America and Canada. Your singular bag was stowed between your legs. You didn't trust the people on the plane not to try to steal your shit. The flight went fine. The asshole next to you splashed his water on you, and someone was caught smoking weed in the bathroom. Pretty uneventful.
When you arrived at the airport, everyone else rushed out. They were here for family, for business. You kept telling yourself that this had to be temporary. You looked at your phone. Mrs. Lyle wasn't able to provide you with your father's phone number.
Carlisle Beckford. That was kind of a weird name. You wondered why your mom had told you that she didn't know who your father was. He had to be a dick or something, right? You knew you had to be smart about this. He probably barely remembered you, or your mother. You were just some kid that he was stuck with for a while. You'd be out in a couple months.
As you approached the doors, a man in beige robes stood at the doors with a sigh. Your name was across the sign. You cringed at the top of the stairs. Maybe your dad was, like, a monk or something. You approached the man with your bag slung over your shoulder.
"Hey," you called. The man dipped his head to you and began walking out the doors. Not quite sure of what to do, you followed him out to a blue sedan. "So...are you my dad?"
"No, dear," he said. "I'm simply here to retrieve you. Have your travels been good?" You nodded.
"What's your name?"
"You may call me Caleb." He started the car and began driving you into the nearby forests. Even though the air strip had been already in the middle of nowhere, it felt as though the road sucked you into the darkness of the forests. The sun was laying across the horizon, the purple-coloured shadows swallowing everything past your window.
Your anxiety grew as Caleb drove. What if he wasn't related to your dad at all? What if you were about to get trafficked? What if your dad was secretly a cannibal living out in the woods? What if you were about to come face to face with some psycho mountain people?
The car pulled up to a large wrought iron gate with two lanterns hanging from their perches. It guarded the start of a long, winding gravel road. Next to the gate stood a man in beige coloured robes, barely illuminated by the orange glow of the lights. He smiled brightly at Caleb and pulled the gate open with some struggle. Nothing you could see was easing the growing knot in your gut.
Caleb continued to drive down the driveway, nearly half a mile through the darkness. When a light came up, it appeared to be more of the lit lanterns, except they were lining the outside of the entrance of a tall limestone wall. Several people stood around the door, all seeming to be buzzing.
The car was parked beside what appeared to be two or three lines of other cars. You couldn't see well in the darkness, but they looked overgrown, like they had been abandoned for a long, long time. Caleb nearly leapt from the car, giving you no acknowledgement or direction. You awkwardly grabbed your bag and got out of your seat, allowing the car door to slam behind you before you followed Caleb from several feet behind.
One man in front, wearing much darker robes than the others, smiled widely. He had your skin tone, yet it looked reddened by time in the sun. The way his facial skin was pulled back by his grin looked nearly inhuman, as if you could see the entire shape of his skull. His hair was thick and frizzy in a ponytail. As soon as you were within several feet, he suddenly bolted towards you.
"Oh my dear child!" he exclaimed, hugging you tightly. His grip nearly lifted you from the ground.
Instantly, your whole body was in self defence mode. You pushed against his chest as if he could kill you, trying to force him away. You didn't want to be touched, this was bad. He smelled thickly of sweat and dirt. He released you quickly, jumping back.
"My goodness, I'm sorry, YN," he exclaimed. "I apologise, I'm just so elated to see you! This is incredible! My child has returned to me." You raised an eyebrow at him, gripping the strap of your backpack with a death grip. "Come, come! We have a place set for you. You'll be safe. There's a warm bed. Have you eaten?"
"I'm not hungry," you insisted, everything in you screaming to get away. "I'm just... tired. Can I just go to bed for the night?" He nodded. His whole demeanour screamed excitement, it was rather off putting. The others rushed through the door and into the area. You followed, with your father and Caleb stopping behind to speak with one another.
You were led into what looked like a town. Small houses made of brick sat in neat little lines, all the exact same in every way. Did this place even have electricity? After walking for a while surrounded by these strange people, you arrived at a large circular gap in the houses with a large, unlit bonfire circle. The makeshift streets were lined with lit lanterns.
On the other side of the circle sat a house much larger than the others. Your father set a hand on your shoulder, once again making you shudder and jump away from his touch. He smiled at you brightly as if you hadn't just tried to run away from his hand. Every reaction of disgust seemed to be met with simple acceptance.
"Welcome home, YN," he said with a bright grin. He led you inside the largest house, which was seperated by walls and many rooms. He led you to a door without words. He pushed it open to show you a simple bedroom. A twin sized bed was pushed against the wall opposite to the door. There was a simple desk, a bookshelf, and a dead lantern.
Your father rushed in and lit the lantern with a match from a matchbox atop the desk. He gestured around the room in a dramatic 'ta-da'.
"Is this okay for you? Do you need a bigger bed, or a bigger room, or-"
"This is fine," you said forcefully. "I'm really just... I just want to go to bed." He sighed and gave you a soft, sympathetic smile.
"Okay, dear. We'll talk in the morning." You dropped your bag on the desk, looking around. No outlets in the room. It didn't seem like there was any electricity in the whole.... You didn't want to call it a town. Maybe a compound at best.
Your father moved to close the door, glancing back at you.
"It's good to meet you, YN," he sighed. "I've waited for this moment for a long, long time."
The door closed as he left. You took out your phone and glanced at it. 47%. It would be dying eventually, and it looked like there was no chance of you charging it any time soon.You laid in your small bed on top of a thin blanket. You pulled up your calendar.
November 15th, your birthday (Pretend it is, this is fictional). You set up an alarm on that date. 45 days away.
November 15th: YN's 18th birthday - Get Out.
You then set your phone on the desk and changed into pyjamas that you pulled from your backpack. You then hid your backpack under the bed and tried to sleep. It was difficult to fall asleep. It was cold outside, and getting colder. You hoped that the electricity-less buildings would keep heat. An entire silently darkened night of staring at a brick wall wasn't the best thing for your spiralling thoughts.
Ainsley paced in the small house area. It was night time, and the now sixteen year old simply couldn't fall asleep. His sable skin was drenched in sweat, and his reddish black hair was tied back in a tiny ponytail. There was a knock at the door, making the boy jump. As it opened, a young girl crept in. She, too, had sable skin and reddish black hair, however her hair was in tight coils down the shoulders of her night gown.
"Ainsley?" she whimpered. He looked at her worriedly. "Mum and dad are fighting again." He sighed and grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair sitting at his desk.
"Come here, Brie," he said, sitting on his bed and patting the space beside him. The small girl, only seven or eight, entered the one room house and sat atop her brother's bed. She laid down and snuggled into his side.
"You're sweaty," she remarked. He chuckled.
"I'll bathe in the morning," he reassured her. "But you shouldn't be up this late, Brie." She sighed and nodded, laying down in his bed. Ainsley glanced at her and sighed. He had his own house, several houses from his parents. Father Carlisle said a man of his situation mustn't be coddled by a mother. But Brie could always come to him when she needed him most.
After she was tucked in, Ainsley stepped out into the cold. The air wasn't freezing yet, but winter was surely coming. The day he had been waiting for, and fearing, had arrived. The paragon was here. The paragon was who he was meant to dedicate his life to protecting.
Ainsley gripped his side. He wasn't currently in pain, but it was simply an act he had done so many times. The boy had a 14 inch scar going down the side of his torso from one of the many times his training had gone wrong. Sometimes it would ache when he was anxious. Father Carlisle said it was in his mind, and he must master his mind over his body.
He took a deep breath. It's gonna be okay, he thought to himself.
With Brie sleeping in his bed yet again, Ainsley laid across the wood floor. No blanket, no pillow. Just him and the floor.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Thirteen year old Ainsley was tied to a post, his hands over his head as Father Carlisle slashed into his back with a whip. He shrieked out in pain. His small body was already littered in scars. Tears streamed down his face in the ice cold air. The winter was the worst of times. His body ached from days without food, his muscles were tired from his training.
"You must be strong!" Father Carlisle ordered with another crack of the whip. "You must be a protector! You must be a provider!" Another two whip cracks. The small boy shrieked out in pain. He could feel warmth leaking down his body from his open wounds. His blood felt like fire across his frozen skin, making small holes in the snow where it dripped.
Father Carlisle pulled him from the stake and dropped him, his wounds landing in the snow as he cried out. The man glared down at the whimpering boy.
"This is pathetic," Father Carlisle spat. "You're better off dead than like this."
*****
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