Transcend (6 page)

He woke to a loud thud as the door to his room closed tightly. The room was dark, illuminated with a soft candle. Strange scents mingled in the air as tendrils of cinnamon and sandlewood smoke wove circles above him.

“What—” Ien tried to sit up, his wrists still bound to the bed.

“Shhh. She’s here to help you. She can release the demons, Ien. Heal your face. Your mind.”

He fell back, uncertain what was real and what was a dream. A strange woman appeared in his line of sight. Dark skin and round eyes flickered in the candlelight. Thick black curls peeked out from a colorful scarf tied around her head. She looked surreal.

Definitely dreaming
, he thought.

She waved the smoke over him, chanting unknown words. She touched his face, setting him on fire again. He squirmed, screamed, pulled against his restraints.

“Stop,” he managed to say. “Please.” His voice cracked as he felt a familiar fire push through his veins.

The strange woman blurred and the room faded back. Her words detached, floating above him, through him.

Kiera,
Ien thought.
Kiera. Help
. His mind went blank as a profound emptiness brought a strange relief.

But not peace.

Never peace.

~

More time passed. There were no more visits from doctors or clergy. No more strange rituals in the night. Nothing.

Ien grew desperate in the solitude of his new existence, writhing against his bindings and weaving in and out of his pain. More than once he screamed until his throat burned, just to prove he was still alive.

More than once, his attendants pushed liquid fire into his veins to ease his suffering.

As if anything could help him now.

After another week had passed, Ien looked for anything to occupy his thoughts and keep him sane. The walls felt as if they were closing in, moving and morphing into images pulled from his nightmares. He closed his eyes to it all, relying on the comfort of sound to maintain his sanity—the chatter of the servants as they came into the room, the driving rain and wind common for late winter storms, the absolute stillness that followed a snow storm. In these sounds, Ien lost himself. He drifted away from anything familiar, praying for some kind of end to his suffering.

Time continued to pass with each labored breath.

Inhale.

The clock’s tick-tock surrounded him, echoing around the room.

Exhale.

Rain pelted against his window, adding to the strange symphony in his head.

Inhale.

Scuffling footfalls in the hall came closer and closer.

Exhale.

The door to his room squeaked. Ien wanted to open his eyes, orient himself to the sounds, to life. But he had long given up on any ability to truly live again.

“He can’t stay here anymore, not like this.” The voice, deep and heavy, was familiar. “Think of the scandal. This kind of thing ruins families. I won’t jeopardize our futures over this.”

“What are you saying, John?” Mother’s voice cut deeply into Ien, pulling him back to consciousness.

“He’s dying, Katherine. Let him go. It’s better for him. It’s better for all of us.”

“But what if he isn’t dying? What if he’s just in shock? Or still grieving Erik? Something?”

“This isn’t grief. And this isn’t
normal
. He’s dying. One way or another, he has no future now.”

“But John, Madame Alexandra thinks it’s just a curse. Maybe we can—”

“This isn’t something we can fix. It isn’t something anyone can fix. You have to let him go.”

Ien felt the floorboards shake as his father left the room.  The Montgomery legacy, it was the one thing Ien knew he could never live up to. Even in an accident, Ien had managed to disappoint his father.

Let me die.

It would’ve been so much easier if Ien had died in the fire, so much better for everyone. Ien listened as Mother's heels clicked away from his bed. He waited for the door to close, praying everyone would leave him alone. His mind twisted on his father’s words . . .
Let him die . . . he has no future now . . .
There were no words of comfort, no hint of loss in his father’s voice, nothing to indicate that he would be missed in the slightest of ways. When Erik died, Father mourned for months. But now, faced with this, there was nothing. The truth of his father’s feelings jolted through him. He meant nothing to his father, nor to any of them.

Maybe he never had.

The door shut with a thud and Ien heard the click-clack of Mother’s heels as she walked back toward him. He focused on his breathing, hiding the anxiety rising through him.
In and out. In and out.
He kept his breaths deep and even, not wanting Mother to discover that he had been awake, that he had heard everything.  

Ien felt the bed sink as she sat next to him. Her touch sent fresh waves of pain rolling through his body. His focus crumbled slightly as he inhaled the moan rising up his throat.
When will this ever end?
Again he wished for his own death.

Ien listened closely as his mother began to pray. “Merciful Father, end his suffering. He cannot face the world looking this way. He isn’t strong enough, not like Erik. He will not survive the taunts.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And he won’t survive being imprisoned. Alone.” She choked back a sob. Tears fell onto Ien’s skin, feeling more like drops of fire. He gasped before he could stop himself.

Mother continued to caress his arm. “It’s a curse, I know it is. Made worse by that girl. Why wouldn’t she just listen to me and stay away? No good could ever have come from this.”

Her words ripped through the layers of pain, reaching all the way into his soul. He remembered everything about Mother’s warnings and how she’d told Kiera to stay away. He remembered the way he’d paced the floor in the salon, waiting for Kiera to come. He remembered how scared he’d been of what Mother would say and whether or not she would chase Kiera away. And he especially remembered how Mother had never let Kiera past the front door. He may not have heard Mother’s exact words, but he’d heard Kiera’s gasp.

In his mind, Ien recreated the conversation between them—the judgment in Mother’s voice as she’d told Kiera that she wasn’t
Montgomery
material, the pleading that likely followed, and the look of both pain and hatred that would’ve painted Kiera’s face when her words failed.

Ien hated Mother for that night. And now, as he writhed in agony, gasping with every tear that fell onto his face and arms, his hatred grew. How could she blame the accident on either of them?

His mother’s sobs shook the bed as Ien continued to fume. “It’s okay, my son. I’ll find a way to end your suffering. One way or another.”

Goosebumps spread over Ien’s body as the last words left her lips.

~

The days that followed brought no relief. Ien continued to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to find a way out of the fate chosen by his mother. Somehow, knowing she wanted him dead renewed his desire to live.

He fought against the questions in his mind.
When will you kill me, Mother? How?
He had no answers, no way out of the promise of death.

“How’s he doing today, Mrs. Montgomery?”

James. Perfect.

Ien opened his eyes, his arms still bound. Unable to sit up, he attempted to roll over, straining to hear the muffled voices outside of his room.

“I’m afraid he’s worse, James.”

“Worse? He didn’t try to—”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But, I’m afraid his wounds are not healing. The doctors are not holding much hope for him now. There is nothing we can do but keep him comfortable and wait. That, and pray his suffering ends soon.”

The world stopped as Ien waited for James’s response.
Don’t believe her. Come in and see me.

“Pray tell, how much longer will he live?”

“I wish I knew, James. Days. Hours. Maybe less.”

She’s lying, James.
No sound escaped Ien’s mouth as he continued to will his thoughts to his friend.

“If it pleases you, can I see him? Just to say my own goodbye?”

“Of course. But, only for a moment.”

Yes. Finally
. Ien waited as James approached him, breath held.

“We have been forced to keep him tied and sedated for his own safety. He cannot speak with the sedation, but maybe he can hear you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Ien opened his eyes as wide as he could, willing James to know he was alive, not dying. At least not yet.

“Oh Ien. This turned out to be a mess, didn’t it?” James smiled.

Ien tried to make his mouth move, but the layers of cloth still covering his face and the remnants of medications running through his veins made it impossible.

“A face full of bandages, your skin charred and raw—you really aren’t looking too good.” James sat at the edge of the bed and took Ien’s bandaged hand. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help . . . I should’ve seen . . . should’ve known . . .” His voice cracked on the words. Tears welled in his eyes and he turned away. Ien watched as James swallowed back a sob.

I AM NOT DYING!
Ien screamed, his voice nothing but thoughts bellowing through his mind. He squeezed James’s hand, desperate to get his attention.

James turned back to Ien, his face hard. “I know,” James said, lightly grasping Ien’s hand. “This is hard for all of us. I want you to know that I’ll take care of Kiera. Explain everything to her, just as you’d want it explained. I won’t tell her . . .won’t . . . I’ll make sure she’s cared for. You have my word.”

Ien tightened his grasp as much as he could. His hand barely closed and his vision began to blur.

“It’s okay now, Ien. Just let go,” James said as he wiped his hand across Ien’s eyes.

Ien cringed in pain. He began to thrash, twisting his body at odd angles.
It’s not okay
.
It’s nowhere close to okay. Come on, James. Figure this out.
Ien wrestled against his bindings, his vision fading more and more.

Ien saw the shadow of his mother pass between him and James. Within moments, the familiar burning sensation hit his body.

“You’d better leave now, James.”

Ien’s eyelids became heavy. He fought against the fatigue, his stomach lurching up his throat.

“Yes ma’am. Bye Ien,” James said through a deep sob.

Blackness engulfed Ien’s senses as James moved further away.

“I’ll come by…”

Nothingness replaced the last notes of James’s voice.

8.

“Welcome, thou kind deceiver!

Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,

Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,

Even steal us from ourselves.”

~John Dryden (All for Love)

~~

A welcoming darkness surrounds me as James fades from view. At first I resist the pleasant distraction, attempting to again reach out for my friend and make him see the lies Mother spins. I’m not dying. Not now. Not yet. But as the dream world envelopes me I remember…

In the deepest most parts of my soul, I want to die.

Anxiety tightens my muscles with the truth of my thoughts. I want to die. Need to die. I will…

Die.

There is power in my death thoughts, freedom. My mind seeps into the words, planning a way to fulfill the promise they hold.

Hanging.

A knife.

Poison.

Nothing feels right, but I know I must find a way to end my suffering and create a world where Kiera and I can have a life together. Death could afford me passage to that world.

Maybe...

~~

“Suicide, Ien? I didn’t realize you were that cowardly. Maybe Mother is right; you are too weak to live.”

I turn my head, looking for Erik. Only darkness greets me. “You can’t be here,” I call out to the abyss.

A slight chuckle fills the air. “What makes you think I ever left?”

The inky space around me gives way to lighter shades of gray, revealing his ghost-like image.

“Oh, you left. You aren’t real.” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the phantom to vanish. “None of this is real.”

“Are we still haggling over my existence? Really? I thought I’d cleared that up last time.” Erik’s figure solidifies. He reaches out and touches my arm, sending a flurry of chills through my skin. I recoil, stepping back in my thoughts.

“I warned you, Ien. I said Mother would never accept Kiera. Don’t you remember? And now, look at what’s happened.”

Kiera, where are you?

“She can’t hear you and she can’t save you. Not from me. Not anymore.”

My world crumbles with his words. The voices, the chaos, it all descends in a rush, overwhelming my senses. Without Kiera, I’ll never be able to fend off the monsters hiding within.

“Mother will ruin her, you know. And it’s your fault. All of this is your fault.”

I’m on my feet, walking away from my brother. Fear and guilt sear themselves into my heart.  

“You can’t walk away from me. There’s no escape.”

I break into a run, getting nowhere; an endless loop in the caverns of thought.

Or could this be real?

Erik’s voice continues, becoming part of the air that surrounds me.  “You should’ve listened to me about her. You should’ve listened to me about everything.”

~~

My mind pulls back. My failures have again come home, reminding me of the truth of my existence. I’m not good enough for Kiera. I am the weaker brother. There will never be a place for me in Mother’s world, in any world.

Thoughts of death consume me. I should have died in the fire. Or here in my home. Why am I still alive?

~~

“Stop wallowing, brother. You’re getting nothing less than you deserve.”

“Stop tormenting me,” the words stick in my throat, rubbing it raw.

“‘Stop tormenting me.’ Really brother, are you so weak that death is your only option now? Maybe I should grant your wish and help you die.”