The Chains that Bind

A scream of pure rage pierces the night sky, shuddering through the remnants of his sanity. Gritting his teeth, he tests the bonds that hold him again. The metal cuffs from which he's suspended bite into his wrists with cruel finality, the only miniscule relief found in lifting himself further up onto his toes, toes that barely touch the cold cement as it is. Shaking his head to get his hair to fall back away from his eyes, he takes in his surroundings. Unbelievably, he is suspended in a room that can only be described as a medieval dungeon. The floor is of marbled stone, almost freezing beneath the slight touch of his feet. A huge stone-laid fireplace is to his right, the blazing flames doing little to remove the chill from the room. And to his left is a single door. Suddenly, he is positive that it is unlocked, and equally positive it's that way to assure him of his helplessness. Shaking his head, he tries to piece together the events that brought him to this place as yet another angry call shatters through his mind.

~~Having never been a small man per se, sometimes his sheer bulk is awe inspiring, leading to little need to fight as he traveled among his lands. Standing just shy of 6'5", his frame rippling with strength, he is an amazingly gentle man, in tune with those around him as no one else before him. Many of his fellow townsfolk come to him for help, and he's never turned a single person from his door. Until today....~~

The kid. Why on earth did he not see what was coming? He always saw, he always knew, and now, now he is chained to a wall for someone's infinite amusement. Unable to even comprehend what may be in store for him from here on out, a rash of goose bumps rise along his bare skin and he unconsciously leans closer to the unaffecting warmth of the flames. A low growl rises in his chest, filled with frustration at his helplessness.

~~Just a street rat, but with eyes one would swear had seen the entire world already. Eyes that fully expected someday to have the world bowing at his feet, where he could trample it, pay it back for all his pain at his slightest whim. It was his eyes that were so unsettling. The kid was so small, couldn't be more then eight or nine, wiry in his strength, but it was those eyes that changed his mind. For the first time in his life, he could not stand the thought of letting this little one into his domain, his HOME, his life. He found himself knowing somehow that to do so would bring pain and certain death. Such finality and he wasn't ready. Oh dear God, forgive him, he was not ready to face this challenge.~~

Those eyes, why can he not get them out of his head? With his own closed, or staring wide eyed into the darkness pushed at by the flames, he could see them. Floating out of nowhere, eyes that were of such crystal cut green so as to be assuredly made of the richest jade, and cold, utterly devoid of any emotion but dancing, gleeful rage. Do not go quietly into the night, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Testing his bonds again, he winces involuntarily as he feels the abrasions along his wrists. Such cruel manacles, not beveled with years of wear, but new, harshly cut to rub him just the wrong way. They slice into his wrists slowly, with aching precision until just the faintest trickle of blood can be felt sliding beneath the metal and trailing in a lonely, painful fire down his arms. The warm blood rapidly cools against his chilled skin as it travels the hills and valleys of sinewy muscle. His eyes, tired and frightened, yet calm, seem unable to tear away from this simple mesmerizing sight. The sight of his own blood, much like facing his own mortality, his own impending death, brings the fact of no escape racing through his mind.

~~"Let me in." That's it, that was all the boy said. Those simple words struck such cold terror into his very being that he slammed the door in the child's face. A CHILD, for Christ's sake, just a boy, and those simple words reduced him into such a mass of trembling dread that he slammed the door, only to have it hit an unmoving mass, not quite reaching the frame to latch with soothing comfort. Amazingly, the boy, this scrawny, filthy, dirty child, simply pushed his way in with a gleeful giggle. A child's laughter flowing from the mouth of a boy with eyes older then the very land they stood on.~~

A helpless croak escapes as he laughs, repeating the words to himself. "Let me in, let me in. Ohhhhhh God, I am so in..." He tosses his head restlessly and searches the room for movement. He is suddenly sure the boy is here with him again. He is simply watching quietly. How he arrived, there was no way of knowing. He stares at the door, discerning no movement. He then searches the shadows dancing in the flickering firelight to a beat only they can hear, a dance of seduction, darkness and light, twisting in the throes of some undecernable ecstacy.

~~He backed away from the door, and stared at the little one in disbelief. Towering above him they were in complete contrast as the boy looked up and merely whispered, "Your first mistake, strong one. Dare you make another?" Shaking his head, he narrowed his eyes and waved absently toward a seat, giving in, it would seem, to the inevitable. The boy laughed that gleeful chortle again and shook his head. "That would be two," he whispered, "one more and you surely will fall."~~

One more, one more... Well, he certainly couldn't fall now, could he? He shifts again to ease his weight on the manacles that hold him, then suddenly falls still. The touch of small, freezing fingers around his neck sends an almost painful shock through his system. He shudders and tries to pull away, only to find himself without strength and at the mercy of the fingers about his neck. In the unearthly silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames, a smooth object is placed about his neck. Jangling sounds drift the short distance to his ears as he finally comprehends. He trembles as the smoothness of the leather pills tight as it's buckled behind him. He tenses as his weight shifts and he's pulled farther back to the wall behind him, unable to move as the buckle is connected to a cool metal hook. With a hoarse, angry cry, he jerks his head forward only to fall back against the wall, struggling to recapture the breath torn from his throat by the painful strap.

~~Suffocating in the small room, he simply stares at the child. "What would you have me do?" The child almost squeals his delight as he stares unblinkingly up at him. "Why, don't you know? You should have run like the wind, for now you are mine and no one survives. No one survives..."~~

"I will survive, I will, I will, I will..." The words tear from dry, unbelieving lips as he still fights to understand just how he came to be here. Where was his mistake was made? In the stillness, he realizes he is alone, with only his terror for company. His fear is hot and slick as it pours from him in rivers of sweat. The cuffs bite cruelly into his wrists, and bound by the neck, there is no relief from the pain as the blood continues to trickle down his arms, mingling with his sweat. The scent of his fear is heavy in his nostrils, along with another, almost coy, smell. Searching, wondering, and unable to move, he closes his eyes and tries desperately to find a way, any way out.

~~Why can't he move? Those damn eyes which are so jaded and ancient, even all knowing, hold him fast, sapping from him his very will, his strength. Then as the child motions, he follows as his mind screams in rage that he cannot stop himself. The screams echo in the recesses of his mind as he searches desperately for an answer while simply following the child. He holds out his wrists to be chained, then stands on his toes as they are placed on the nail above. HELPING! Why, for God's sake, is he helping? What is this power the urchin holds over his mind?~~

The mind is an awesome thing, yet fragile and so easily broken. Unbidden, the thought arises from within and seems to consume him. It floats around his consciousness much as the shadows caress the light. The light... why is it so dark in here? How can he see what to do? A minute struggle against the bonds that hold him fast and his growl is reduced to a helpless whimper of pain and fright. He becomes desperate for understanding and the urchin appears, cloaked in the shadows that writhe about him as a second skin. The darkness caresses the child, shifting, rearranging, covering until it leaves only the disturbing, terrifying sight of the eyes that glow in their in-depth study of him. Finally, the child speaks.

"Do you wish to leave, strong one? You are the key to all that lays within, but you must see that for yourself. I only come when called. How you struggle.. does the sight of me wound you so? Do you not know who I am? I am all this, yet I am nothing. I am what you see, but more importantly what you miss. I am the child within, the adult without, the peace, the fear, the death, the life, the very breath of mankind. I am..."

"Meeee.." The whisper is tears from his throat even as he stares in surprise at the little one. He then recoils in the shock of sudden realization. Closing his eyes against the suddenly unbearable pain, he struggles anew against the chains of his own making, lost in the bindings of his own mind. The voice, however, still reaches him even through his screams of rage and pain.

"Freedom without only comes from freedom within, strong one. There is no escape but that of your own devising. I only come when called, when needed. Dare you accept the visions, the pain and live? Or do you give up this right and die, chained to the walls of your mind?"

He falls still suddenly, almost collapsing back against his bindings as he opens his eyes. In them, the fire of determination weaves around the fear, choking it with the desperate need to understand. The wish for the fires of freedom overcome the reality of the hopelessness of chains. He searches out the all knowing, jaded eyes of the urchin who dances among the shadows before him and gives a slight nod, all that he can manage locked within the collar.

The child chortles with glee. "How I hoped you would say that, strong one. We shall see just how much of the truth you can handle. Brace yourself, for the pain has just begun.."

With those words, the child fades from sight once again, only to be replaced with a sudden, stinging pain across his abdomen. Molten fire of memories runs across his stomach as he throws his head back with an echoing scream of agony. The sound of the straps reverberate as they whistle through the air, rocking him back against the stones as they connect. Each slash drives agony, past, present and beyond, into his skin with blood soaked cracks.

His ribs snap one by one in an all consuming fire. The crunch as the memories hasten though his mind seem unbearably loud in the echoing cries that fall from his lips. With weakened, but sheer determination, he faces the pain of his own devising. His own thoughts wrack his frame with each renewed, forceful snap of leather against his broken body. Each moment of peace a fraud when seen in the darkness of agonizing destruction, wrought by his own hand over the years. All he has seen, touched, loved, being destroyed in the faithlessness of one who believes he is right, knowing he's acting for the better of mankind.

His throat shredded with the force of his screams, he struggles in his bindings. He no longer tries to get away, but rather only to reach the child that appears before him again. The urchin stands so close he can smell the coying scent of sweat, feel the knowledge wrapped in the small wiry frame. With the last of his strength, he struggles against the collar about his neck. Jerking his head forward, he cuts off his breath and his cries and strains all the more. He stares wide eyed into the jaded gaze before him and with a breathless scream of pure rage that tears through the last of his sanity, he lunges, falling forward in the sudden release of the manacles above, the leather at his neck breaking free from the hook embedded in the stone.

He falls to his knees before the urchin, gasping for breath. His body is wracked with shudders as he looks up through sweat soaked hair. He stares at the vision before him, seeing him as the embodiment of a lifetime of pain, along with his only chance for final release. With a sudden, anguished cry, he straightens in the awesome silence of the room, a silence previously broken only by the soft, almost soundless, splash of each drop of blood against the stone floor as it is shaken loose by his trembling.

The child merely stands where he is, un-speaking, unfeeling perhaps, or simply waiting. With a groan of sudden acceptance, he leans his broken body forward and wraps his arms about the wiry being before him, pulling the child into a tender yet un-breaking embrace. Eyes closed, he buries his face in the boy's hair, his beaten frame shuddering as he holds his very soul, his torturer, his private hell close, accepting all that he's been and learning in that one moment all he can be.

The pain fades slowly, along with the visions, soon becoming but a ghostly memory of what had been. He finds himself kneeling on his own floor, arms wrapped around his mid-section tightly. Opening his eyes slowly, he straightens and holds his arms before him. The blood and pain are gone, but resting upon his wrists, in almost delicate, lacelike patterns, he will forever bear the scars of the chains that bound him.