It took me a long time to get everything down. My eighth birthday came and went and I barely even noticed it fly by. Ceseth, whom I now found relatively sane and insane in equal parts, taught me everything he could. I now knew more than just English and was proficient in the English language like I was certain no other eight-year-old had ever been or ever would be. I knew words I hadn't even known existed a year ago. I stopped talking about my mother altogether, even though she was a constant force in my mind, looming over my shoulder like a dark cloud. Ceseth hadn't asked me to kill anyone and showed no signs of asking me to anytime soon. He now trusted me enough to let me out of his sight for short periods of time – usually around half an hour to forty-five minutes. Being able to do so was a blessing. I loved having at least a little freedom. I met a new friend when I was out shopping for Ceseth. His name was Tane, and even though Tane was a small boy for nine years old, he was my only friend. Ceseth told me not to get too attached to him, but for the most part, Ceseth was completely unaware of what I did in my free time, and as far as I was concerned, who I associated with when I was on my own time was my own business. If I deemed Tane my best friend simply to spite Ceseth, I would.
I noticed my rebellious streak had flared up under Ceseth's tutelage. I didn't like taking orders, but I wasn't afraid of him hitting me anymore. He did that plenty of times over the last year and I grew used to it. It wasn't too bad, really. I'm pretty sure it gave me thicker skin, and I didn't have to worry about it hurting as much anymore. Sometimes he'd use his hands, and sometimes he'd use a training stick. Along with teaching me languages, he had decided it was important for me to start getting into shape for learning what would come in the future. Both fortunately and unfortunately, that day didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. To begin learning to read and write, he had taught me the names of the various herbs he said he would later teach me about. Only now was he finally getting around to teaching me their uses.
I knew herbs and chemicals, from aconite to black widow venom. I just didn't know what they did. Ceseth said he was willing to put these things off because it was more important that I knew how to read first. I would readily admit I had used to be self-conscious about my inability to read and write, but he had made me more than confident in my ability to be eloquent. Even though I didn't care to admit it, I thanked Ceseth for teaching me these things. But now II had to learn what I had been having nightmares about for the last year: being forced to kill. His "office" was cleaner now: he had made me clean it up for him as part of my chores (which I had a lot of). It had taken days, because on top of making the floor visible I had to build him a new bookshelf for his books and then order them alphabetically and by subject. It had been, he said, a test of my practicality and my language skills. Eventually he had had to help me build the bookshelf, but I had gotten a decent amount of it built without his help, and I was proud of that. There were still many things I couldn't do on my own, or at all, but that would change soon enough. I didn't get scared as much anymore, either, but my heart was throbbing with the thought of being taught poisons.
"Jae'sa," he said, coming into the study. I was already there, sitting on the floor and contemplating what my life was about to become. I was too young to do these things. I often heard Ceseth mutter things under his breath like that when I complained about something he found childish or didn't understand some complex theory right away. He had a knack for making me feel stupid and like he couldn't even trust the knowledge I did have.
"Yes?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"It's time for your first lesson."
I nodded and turned around to face him fully.
~*&*~
After he stopped talking I felt sick. In my hands I held the book Poisonous Plants and Herbs, and we had spent the last few hours going through it. Ceseth had gone through everything that Ceseth said we would be working on, ranging from deadly nightshade to oleander. He taught me the multiple uses of oleander and said that we would be using it quite frequently. He called it the "best of our tools," even though I didn't really understand what that meant. My stomach was roiling and my mind was racing. Half of me wanted to forget everything he ever told me, but the other half knew if I forgot anything I'd face physical consequences for it. Why me? I thought, looking down at the book in my hands. This book...this book was the very beginning of my entrance into being a killer. After this, there truly was no turning back. I had always known in the back of my mind that I wouldn't be able to fight against Ceseth's will. He didn't even have to hit me – raising his voice was scary enough.
"Jae'sa, are you paying attention to me?"
I turned my head. No, obviously I hadn't been. Ceseth sighed, clearly irritated by my lack of attention to him.
"We're going to build a shelter," he said. "I've never needed to have so many poisons all at once, but if I'm to properly train you, I'll need to have them all. It's too risky to have them all here at one time."
"We're going to...build...one?"
"Yes. It'll be a tree house, to keep too many animals from getting into it."
"I can hardly build a bookshelf. How am I going to build a shelter?"
"You won't be building it alone," Ceseth said. "I said 'we,' and besides, I can't have you messing it up."
I frowned deeply. How incapable did he think I was? I couldn't build a house, no, but I could definitely use a little bit of confidence from him.
"Don't mope," he said. "And stop thinking."
I rolled my eyes. I hated how he always seemed to know when I was thinking – and for that matter, over-thinking. He knew too many things, was able to detect much more than he ought to be able to. Ever since I had noticed his "hidden eye" I had wanted it. But it was hard to learn something that was practically unattainable. He must have been born with it. How else would it come so naturally to him? It made no sense.
"I've already got the location," he said. "And the frame is already built. I had a little help from some old friends of mine. It's hard to get up into the tree. You'll have to climb, but I've create d a temporary pulley system so we can move supplies up and down the tree without having to carry them up ourselves. Come, I'll show you where it is."
~*&*~
I stared up at the huge oak. The frame was made out of a wood of a similar shade to the tree, the oak's huge, winding branches helping to hold it in place. The leaves, branches, and overhangs from the tree would protect the house from harsh winds and the house would move along with the tree if it was necessary. Ceseth had explained these things to me on the walk, which had been excruciating. I was ready to curl up amid the roots of the tree and go to sleep, but I had to hide how exhausted I was. If Ceseth suspected I was too out of shape, he'd work me into the ground with whatever he thought was necessary to get me into shape. I knew it would happen one day, but for now I was still trying to digest what was going on right now.
Build a tree house. Make poisons. Be a killer...
Suddenly I felt myself tearing up again. It had been a year, yes, but I still found myself terrified. I still wanted to go home to Mother and live out the rest of my life normally. I didn't want to kill people. I'd make him kill me first if anyone was going to die. I would rather kill myself than kill other people. And maybe I would. I could simply... fall out of the tree house. I cringed at the thought. No, that would hurt too much. I could make incense out of oleander! That would be toxic enough to kill me, but simultaneously how would that be any less painful than falling out of the tree? I'd suffocate to death. I shook my head.
What am I thinking?
"Stop thinking," he snapped angrily. "I swear, the next time you start thinking I'm going to hit you upside the head."
"Sorry..."
"Now, how well do you think you can climb this tree?"
"I've never climbed a tree before," I admitted. "My Mo—I was never allowed to."
"Well, no better time to learn than now," Ceseth said as he moved closer to the tree trunk. "I've made a fairly simple pathway to the top. Just follow behind me and try not to fall."
That didn't make me feel very good about the situation, not that I had felt very good about it to begin with. I watched him as he moved towards the tree and began to climb it with the ease of a practiced expert. When I thought of assassins, I didn't really think that climbing trees would be on their resumes.
He made it look so easy, too. The way he scaled the tree clearly demonstrated that he had been doing this for years. It put me at an unfair disadvantage, but I didn't want to face the consequences of not doing as he said. At the same time, I didn't want to risk falling off the tree and breaking my back or dying. It wasn't as if I had a lot of say in the matter.
Making up my mind, I started to climb the tree. Immediately I regretted the decision. The tree's bark hurt my palms and stray pieces of wood started to stick into my hands. My feet struggled to gain purchased on the tree and I found myself slipping frequently. I looked up and watched as Ceseth continued to climb the tree without issue. His feet were sure and his hands seemed unaffected by the splinters he was undoubtedly getting. There was no way my hand would be full of splinters and he'd get away without a scratch. I bit my lip and tried again. My feet struggled to propel me up any further than it already had.
"I can't..." I said, digging my nails further into the bark. Ceseth heard me and turned his head to look down at me.
"You have to climb up here somehow. I'm not going to carry you up."
"I can't do it," I repeated, looking up at him as I slid back down the tree until my feet rested precariously on one of the roots. "I don't know how to climb trees. My feet won't stick."
"It's not that hard," Ceseth said. "Try to put all of your weight on your feet. They'll act like anchors if you put enough weight on it. Mae sure you grip with your whole hand and not just the tips of your fingers. That'll destroy your nails and make it almost impossible to climb up. You'll get some splinters, but those are removed easily enough." Ceseth turned and began climbing the tree again. I watched him in dismay until he reached the top, perching on the very edge of the frame. Now that I looked closely, a sort of deck was already built, and it seemed sturdy enough. Ceseth perched himself on the edge and looked down at me. The tree was huge – the climb up was impossible. He gave me advice on how to get up, but how was I supposed to put advice into practice when I'd never experienced it before?
"Don't stand there like you're brain dead," Ceseth called down It was hard to hear him from the ground, but I could just make out the words. I didn't appreciate his insult, but as per usual, there was nothing I could do about it. Over the past year, he seemed to find insults that made me more likely to try harder. Now, this wasn't entirely accurate. Sometimes the insults made me curl up and simply...cry, which I tried not to do, as it was never well received. Other times they made me doubt my potential – not that I had thought there was much there to begin with. And sometimes they made me want to find a way around what he was telling me to do. Of course, they did sometimes push me to do as he wanted, but today wasn't one of those days.
I jumped when I felt something bunce off my shoulder. When I looked to the ground I saw a twig lying there. My eyes moved back to Ceseth. He didn't say anything, but I got the message without words. Hurry up or I'll come down there and force you up.
I turned my head back to the tree and stared at it for a moment. As ridiculous as it sounded, I had to keep telling myself I could beat the tree. The tree was no match for the great Jae'sa (while it wasn't really my name, I had adopted it quite easily; easier than I thought I would have been able to)! I dug my hands into the bark, making sure to grip the tree with the entirety of my hands this time and not simply my fingers. I started with one leg, pressing it firmly against the trunk of the tree before anchoring it there and bringing the other one to join it. I felt steady enough for the time being, but the next part was the trickiest: making actual progress.
Slowly I reached up to grab another piece of bark that was protruding from the tree. I clasped my hand around it and dug my fingers deeper into the bark, feeling it bite into the skin with its rough surface. It hurt, but I ignored it. It was nothing like the pain Ceseth would put me through if I continued to disobey him. The faster I got up there, the sooner it would be over, and the less inclined Ceseth would be to hit me. Next, I moved my other hand, grabbing onto another piece of bark. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but as I tried to move my foot, my hand slipped, and I found myself falling backwards. I fell onto the ground with a thud and groaned as my neck whiplashed.
"Get up. Try again."
The voice from above grated on my nerves. I had already told him I couldn't do it, and I hadn't lied. I truly didn't think I could manage the however-many-feet-it-was climb. How he had accomplished it so easily was beyond me, even if he did have years of experience under his belt. Regardless of my confusion, annoyance, and pain, I pulled myself to my feet with some difficulty and began to try again. Gripping the tree was the easiest part now, since I had already figured out a good method to do so. But this time, instead of moving both of my hands first, I brought my right hand up to where it had been originally, and then slowly I brought my left leg up. I fumbled my foot around for a moment before finding a notch in the bark that would support my foot and the weight I was about to put on it. Then I moved my left hand. Then my right leg. Then my right hand. Then my left leg. As I looked up, I saw Ceseth nodding at me as if he was pleased, though I knew he couldn't be. Ceseth was rarely ever pleased with something, and if he ever were to be pleased about something, it definitely wouldn't be something I had done.
My stomach was doing somersaults, making me queasy, nauseas, and a little lightheaded. I had never been a big fan of heights. I made the mistake of looking down when I had reached just over a third of the way up the tree. I squeezed my eyes shut and rested my forehead against the bark. My arms and legs were shaking with the effort I was forcing them to put in – an effort they were entirely unused to. My whole body was groaning in protest, and my mind lent me no rest, either. Running a million miles a second, I couldn't help but think about all the things that could go wrong. My stomach clenched uncomfortably and I jerked forward as I felt bile rising up in the back of my throat.
Oh, not now, not now, I thought ads I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Get up here, Jae'sa," Ceseth's voice said demandingly. "We don't have all day for you to be chickening out over a small climb."
"Small?" I asked incredulously, once my stomach had settled itself. I looked up at him and anger flashed in my eyes. He liked to make himself so high and mighty and it made me angrier than I had ever been in my entire life. His offhanded comments about my mother didn't even make me as angry as his holier-than-thou attitude did. The thought of my mother made my heart clench in overwhelming sorrow, but I resumed my climb, forcing myself despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to look down – and to get down.
The rest of the climb began steadily, making small steps and small progress towards the landing Ceseth had been sitting on for a good ten minutes. He looked like he was growing impatient, which usually would have bothered me, but due to my current circumstances I found myself not caring. My hands were raw and I could feel hot liquid on the tips of my fingers. I had dug them so hard into the bark that it had broken the skin, so along with splinters, my fingers were bloodied.
Distracted, I slipped again.
My heart pounded in my ears as I felt my body give way beneath me, my feet losing their grip on the tree until I felt nothing but air. It was the kind of feeling you get when you are dreaming, and you're falling into absolutely pitch black nothingness. Even in your sleep, you can almost feel the air rushing past you, and you wake with a start. Only this time, I wouldn't be waking up at all.
My world was brought to a jarring halt as I felt my arm get pulled, hard enough that it made me scream. I had closed my eyes somewhere along the way – whether in resignation to my fate or crippling fear, I really didn't know – but when I opened them again, I found that my world had stopped moving. Tentatively my eyes drew upwards and I saw Ceseth leaning over the landing, his abdomen dangling over the edge just as I was. One of his hands was gripping my wrist while the other anchored him in place. The force with which my world stopped jarred me completely, and my arm was in immense pain. When I looked up, my shoulder was at the weirdest angle I'd ever seen, and I screamed again, trashing against his grip.
"Stop, damn it! You're going to take us both down, and I never intended to die by falling out of a tree!"
"It hurts!" I cried, about to open my mouth and say more when he started to pull me up. Even he was struggling; I could tell by the look of extreme concentration on his face.
"I know, just stop struggling," he said, the looking on his face almost scary. I had never expected he would be the one to save me. When I finally reached the landing, he helped me onto it and I sat down, moving my other hand to gently caress my shoulder, tears pouring down my cheeks.
"Oh my god," I stuttered. "Oh my god. Oh my god. My shoulder. It's...it's ruined!" I sobbed. "It's ruined. I'll never use my arm again, I'll never—"
A slap rang through the empty forest, scattering some birds out of a nearby tree.
It took me a moment to register that the one who had gotten slapped was me.
My cheek tingled, and I lifted my hand form my shoulder to gingerly touch my face. It stung to touch it, and it was still wetted by tears.
"Your arm is not ruined," he said, breaking off a nearby twig of a decent size and handing it to me. "It just got pulled out of the socket, but you'll be fine. Bite down on this. Hard."
I looked at him in disgust but he grabbed my chin and forced my mouth open, shoving the stick so far in that I felt the sides of my mouth crack. I cried out at the sudden pain but his hand had already jammed itself underneath my chin, forcing my teeth to bite into the stick. In a lightning fast motion he had grabbed my shoulder and twisted it, shoving it violently back into place. I screamed past the stick and flung myself away from him. I didn't move for a second, afraid that if I did, my shoulder would shatter irreparably. It was throbbing and the sudden, sharp pain from the previous experience still throbbed in the bone. Past all the shock, I felt an uncontrollable, inexplicable rage.
"That's good," he said in an unusually soft tone. "That anger. Keep that. Hold onto that. I'll show you how to suppress your emotions later, but that's good."
I looked at him, the anger melting into confusion. I turned my attention back to my shoulder as he continued to talk, slowly gaining the courage to move it around. It was ore and him shoving it back into place left a lasting achiness. I didn't understand what he meant by "suppressing my emotions at a later date." He had already begun to teach me that—what more was there to learn?
"You need to channel that anger," he continued. "Maybe not at me, but channel it. Feed off that anger. Let it be what drives you. Remove the reason for it and just feel it. It will give you a strength you never knew you had."
I stopped fiddling with my shoulder and looked at him. The surge of energy I had felt had been brief, but I understood what he meant. There was something about being angry that just made people stronger. He had once called it adrenaline, if I remembered correctly. Adrenaline, he had told me, made a man of four feet capable of doing things a man of seven could do. He was telling me now to be the man of four feet, doing the things the man of seven accomplished. But I didn't want to love my life in anger. I didn't want to have strength when I knew it would only be used for wrongdoing. And with that thought, my anger completely deflated, just as quickly as it had arisen. Ceseth noticed it, too.
"Don't let it go," Ceseth said. "If you are to survive in this world, I promise you that anger will be the thing that keeps you from feeling alone at night." In replace of the anger a deep depression settled over my chest as I looked at the frame of our house that had already been erected.
This is your new life, Jae'sa, I thought. You're going to kill people, or you're going to be killed. You could run... but he'd find you. You could kill yourself, but you're too cowardly to do that, aren't you?
"Stop," he said, again in the same soft voice. It was so unusual to see an almost...tender side to him. He was so rough around the edges I hadn't thought there was a softer side, but it appeared I was wrong. I didn't get my hopes up for ever seeing this side again. "I'll try and find a way to get you down using the pulley system. I don't want you injuring your arm any further, though it should be fine now that I've set it again."
We shared a moment of almost awkward silence before he got to his feet and moved to a pile of wood that I hadn't previously noticed.
"These are the logs we're going to be using to build the house. I'll handle these for the most part because they're heavy. You obviously don't have the upper-body strength to handle it yet." He added the last part in obvious disdain, but he made no further comment of my strength—or lack thereof. "You'll primarily be laying the cement to hold the logs together. It's a special mixture that won't be affected by precipitation or any extreme sorts of weather. It also will keep the wood from rotting as quickly. With it, I'd say the house will probably last a good twenty, twenty-five years before we'll need to start replacing logs."
Twenty-five years? Before we'll need to start replacing logs? I thought. Does this mean...he thinks I'm still going to be around – that he'll be around, too – for the next twenty-five years? I'll be stuck with him... with this... forever.
On the other side of the small pile of logs was a bucket filled with a disgusting-looking black tar-like substance, and I scrunched up my nose at the sight of it. Ceseth gave me a disapproving look but didn't comment, which I was thankful for.
"Let's get to work," he said, moving the bucket. He grabbed what looked to be an abnormally large paintbrush and stuck it in the bucket until it was completely covered in the black tar. He then moved along the tree branches and the house's frame, starting to paint the frame with the tar. The mixture was a lot more watery than it looked, because it immediately began to drip down the sides of the wood until the wood was almost completely coated. I watched him come over to the landing and hand me the brush. Reluctantly I took it as he went to grab a log from the pile.
Ceseth didn't speak to me much more after instructing me on how we were to build the house and how I was to lay the paint. I nodded when he asked me if I understood, but I really didn't. I just didn't want him to try and explain it again and confuse me further.
"Good," he said, taking in a deep breath. "Let's get to it, then, shall we? My goal is to have this done within the week."