FIVE

She was awoken by the same ear-piercing shrill that haunted her both in reality and unconsciousness. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she took deep gasps of breaths. 

She remembered the strident tone in her voice and her cries of anguish that had always revealed her endless pain and agony. Because she could hear her broken voice, the only thing she couldn't control, revealing her pains to attract unwanted pity or sympathy like moths drawn to a source of light. 

Every other thing she could mask but her broken voice was uncontrollable, it was the one thing that could give her away. The pain and unrelenting agony she had gone through all her life, continued to seep through her voice, endlessly. Therefore, she had chosen to sacrifice her right to speech and the last words that had left her mouth were “Mom! Dad! No!!!” from that tragic day.

Getting up from the strong, wooden mahogany bed frame supporting an extremely soft bed foam coated in deep blue bedspreads that she would've preferred to have been black instead, she made her way into the bathroom. The wooden bedframe was clearly made from mahogany due to the reddish–brown colour it had. 

That bed was the softest thing she had laid in for years now. She couldn't even remember the last time she was ever comfortable. From lying on the rough, hard rock dungeon ground as a five year old, bound by very strong and thick chains strong enough to hold a ferocious lion, to lying on rock surfaces, grasslands and bare grounds when on the run from her seemingly never ending, never desisting enemies. 

She had no memory of her bones been that relaxed before. The comfort she had obtained physically from the bed must have been so alluring to have caused her to slumber because usually, she spent most of her nights watching the stars or sitting by the ocean being completely consumed by the abyss of guilt, pain and gut/heart–wrenching memories of deaths all caused or done by her. 

Staring into her reflection in the mirror, she took in her look and expression clearly for the first time in years. When she had always tried to see what she looked like through the glassy effects of the ocean, the unremitting movement of the tide would always make her appearance blurry on the face of the ocean. But now that she could finally see herself clearly, she could see the subsequent effects of her occasional mud bath. 

While on the run or fighting for her life, there were times when she would have mud splatters all over her from fighting her hunters. The effect causing her face to be undeniably spotless and fresh, without a speck of ugliness to be seen. This feature would make one nearly think she had never experienced hardships in life, well nearly that is. The unusual paleness of her skin was very conspicuous. She was so pallid that if she got any more emaciated, she would be cadaverous, almost resembling a corpse. She was almost resembling a ghost, this feature making her unusually lifeless pink eyes shine bright. Her nose, small yet sharp, almost like an eagle's beak.

The guilt she'd always felt, the one that never seemed to give her a breather, came hitting her, hard, like a wave with the intention of causing destruction only. Right in the mirror, she saw the striking resemblance of her mother. 

The sharp nose, the small nude coloured lips, the full eyebrows and the long, full eyelashes. Every single feature reminded her of her mother, a sweet yet painful memory. Her mother was also very light skinned but she wasn't nearly as pale as her. Her mother had porcelain skin but Alaria, herself was almost as white as a corpse. This was due to the sufferings that had been inflicted upon her all through her life.

The image of her mother smiling at her with her pearly white teeth on full display seemed to have flashed through the mirror but in reality, it was all playing in her head. The memory should've been a happy one for Alaria except there was a major fault in the picture. 

The lone tear that slipped from the corner of her mother's eye. The clear and visible expression of pity, regret and sadness blooming brightly through the false façade of her smile and most of all, the trail of red pigment trickling down the corner of her lips. 

Her mother's blood was being spilt right in front of her eyes. This memory was from the day of the tragedy. That smile was the last painful smile she saw on her mother's face. 

Her mother had tried to hide the pain but clearly Alaria was too much of a smart five year old to miss how horribly well her mother had failed in hiding the throe and at that instant, a penumbra of darkness seemed to have shrouded her very being. From that very instant, she had been plunged into a darkness so gloomy, a darkness completely devoid of happiness, of life, a darkness that sucked every ounce of hope in her life to this very day.

Still staring intently at the mirror, she seemed to have noticed a slight movement through her peripheral vision as her eyes trailed slowly towards the movement to find her mother's hand or rather, the image of her mother's hand reaching out to stroke her cheek like she had done that day before she had breathed her last, before the formerly ever lively glint left her mother's eyes, before she heard the small painful last gasp of her mother's as her right hand fell from Alaria's cheek and her left hand that had gripped Alaria's hands tightly, finally loosened, before the last warm tear dropped and trickled down her lifeless face, running icy cold like Alaria's soul had done that day.

Taking a sharp step back from the mirror like she'd been burned, Alaria let out little gasps of breaths like she had been submerged in water. 

Looking at the sink that she had been previously gripping as though her life depended on it, she found it cracked with her finger prints showing clearly on it. She had almost lost control of her powers again. 

She undressed and walked into the bath stall to try to wash away the memories or at least keep them away from her for the whole day but she knew better than anyone that that would never work out. It was a wish that would never come true, just like every other wish and dream she had had as a child. Turning on the shower, she let the cold water cascade down her scar filled body. 

She was pretty sure that 100% of the members of the camp didn't have one-third of the scars that decorated her body like a cloth or had experienced what she had all her years. Wounds heal but scars remain forever. The deepest scar she still nurtured was entrenched deeply in her heart, soul and mind, deeply in her very being.

After getting cleaned up, she washed and dried her outfit before putting it back on as it was the only possession she owned. Moving over to the sink, she picked up the tooth brush and tooth paste already put in place for her and started brushing. All the while as she brushed, she never once looked up at the mirror again.

She stepped out of the bathroom after her hygiene routine had been completely performed. 

She looked around the room for the first time to take in the arrangements and colours.The walls had steel black colours with grey detailing.The wardrobe placed beside the bed, of which she had no intention of ever making use of due to her lack of clothes, was made of dark wooden materials, with a study table and chair to her far right and a little window at the end of her right side, shielded with deep blue curtains just like the bed spreads. 

A wall clock was placed on the wall facing the bed directly in the middle of the room. That was basically what the room was made of. The bathroom and toilet were merged together but were very spacious.

Her room was a typical male dorm as everyone thought she was a boy. She preferred this to being stuck in brightly coloured rooms  decorated as though a unicorn had shit rainbows all over the place, for the duration of her stay here even though she was hoping it would be for a little while. She would let them think whatever they wanted to. Well was she a normal girl? The answer was no. But I think the better question would be, was she a normal child at all? No, definitely no. 

She used to long for a normal childhood like every other child but she never got one. Her endless prayers were never heard. Her months of tears and her cries of agony when being tortured were never heard. She was never rescued. She was alone in the world, no one cared about her and that harsh reality, she had come to eventually accept.

Becoming too engrossed in her painful past yet not ready to start the day surrounded by people but having no choice but to, she pulled out her spiked boots from below the bed frame and put them on. That was the only footwear she had and although they were already worn out and the colour was completely faded, they were still pretty sturdy. They had mud splatters all over them and were very dusty. She cleaned them up with a rag she had found in the bathroom as her mind drifted to the event that took place the previous day.

The day before, which had been the day she was officially introduced to the camp, someone had been sent to summon her to the assembly hall. 

The member had looked at her with both fear and disgust evident in his eyes and that was nothing compared to how she was stared at and examined by the others when she arrived at the hall. 

Everyone had looked at her weirdly. Some wore sneers on their faces, some wore disgusted expressions, some had curious looks on their faces, some seemed scared, while others seemed rather disinterested in whatever was going on.

She had stood on the dais to be introduced to everyone and welcomed but obviously, no one was willing to do that and they all resorted to murmuring when the dean had announced her acceptance into the camp. No matter how much the teachers had tried to calm them all, they didn't listen.

She stood still on the podium as angry whispers and murmurs reverberated through the entire hall all because of her. She had once again, been the centre of attention and she hadn't asked for it. When they asked her to introduce herself and everyone had waited expectantly to grasp a piece of information that may or may not have been important but all they got in reply was silence.

When the deafening silence had continued to stretch for minutes and the people were becoming frustrated and impatient and as the murmurings started all over again with more vigor than before, the dean stepped in for her by saying her name and also assuming the idea of her being verbally impaired. He was being unusually nice to an intruder, one that had destroyed something very important as well but she knew that it was all an act to get her to spill her secrets or slip up in a way and she was determined not to give them the benefit of the doubt. 

She had let them assume all they wanted, that she was a guy and that she was verbally impaired. It was the only way to get them off her back and it would also make it easier for her to get by for the duration she would spend in the camp. It was also a factor that would aid her slipping away from the camp like she had never existed once her mission was accomplished.

The ticking of the clock was enough to bring her out of her trance as it was the only sound heard in her room. She looked at it and immediately dreaded what she saw. It was half past 5a.m, she had thirty more minutes before the day’s activities began. 

The dean had explained everything to her the previous day because apparently, no student was brave enough or would stoop so low as to explain the schedule to a mere intruder, a worthless thing. She sucked in a deep breath and momentarily shut her eyes, trying to prepare herself to leave the peaceful silence, she had grown accustomed to, behind.

She preferred being alone with her thoughts, watching the horizon from sun rise till sun set than being around people. This plan was way out of her comfort zone but her comfort zone was the least important thing here. Her mission was top priority.

Grabbing her pen and the notepad she had taken from the dean, she tucked them into the pockets of her hoodie before she made her way towards the first activity of the day, all the while thinking how the day would go with the constant guilt weighing her down. The amount of deaths she had caused at such young age ought to have scarred her, they should've traumatised her but they didn't, instead they made her worse.

They made her a living yet lifeless being. She was just like a ghost to the world, having no emotions at all. She felt nothing as she slayed her countless enemies. She was akin to a living corpse because all traces of humanity was sucked away from her. She felt nothing when she had been constantly bruised and tortured, even as a kid. She was numb. She had long ago given up on finding hope or peace. Those words were dead to her. She was tightly bound in the labyrinth of her mind, bound in a dark and void place like a prison without a lock...