Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) (4 page)

“No.” Rowan mumbled weakly.
She’s not supposed to go back for Elias, it’s supposed to be only one!
Rowan thought weakly, moving to go after her mother, to stop her, but only succeeded in falling face first to the floor, her eyes blurring and fading in and out, the edges of her vision black and heavy. “Elias….” Rowan mumbled but her mother was pushing the door open, Rowan could just see Elias sitting up, a look of surprise and concern as he saw mother. Rowan lifted her hand, she was weak so weak, it was going black: Elias, her mother, the bedroom, the world, her life…

Elias…

                                          ҉              ҉              ҉

The next morning as the first snow of winter drifted down, blanketing the world in noiseless innocent white, Darren returned. He stamped his boots out on the front porch. Talia did hate it when he dragged mud all through the house.

“Rowan! Elias!” Darren chirped opening the door to the house, excited to show the children what he had brought them back. Elias especially, Elias he knew, would just love his gift. “Rowan?” Darren called again, his voice high. He unwrapped himself from his winter clothes and lay the heavy furs on a small table they kept by the front door. The house was disconcertingly quiet. “Elias?” He singsonged, prancing his way up the stairs to the children’s room, carrying the bags of gifts he had brought for them. “Wait till you see what-“ he began, his voice delighted.

He stopped cold, dropping the parcels to the floor with a thud, one bag tipped over and a jar of bright blue paint spilled out and rolled until it stopped with a clink against the wall. “Rowan, oh Gods, Rowan!” Darren exclaimed, his small legs rubbing together as he vaulted toward her. “Rowan! Can you hear me, Rowan?” Darren lifted the limp child into his lap, the back of her hair crunchy and stuck together with dried blood. Darren frantically pushed her ebony hair away from her chest and held her up to his face, holding his breath as he listened for the faintest sign, anything, that would indicate she was alive, that he was not too late.

Buh……….

Buh……….

Buh……….

Her heart pattered weakly.
To slow. It’s to slow.
Darren thought frantically, scooping the nearly lifeless girl into his arms. She drooped limply over them as he staggered into her room, barely strong enough to carry her to the bed.

“
Elias
!
” Darren shouted, his heart crashing into his stomach. “Oh Gods!” Darren sobbed, placing Rowan as gently as he could on the bed, and rushing over to Elias. He had a deep hole in his chest made by a knife, and blood still seeped out of the open wound, dribbling down Elias’s stomach and staining his blankets under him. The wound was red and angry, clearly infected.

“I’ve failed you! I’ve failed, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” Darren sobbed, tears tumbling down his cheeks. “I’ve failed you.” He cried, tilting his head back, his chest heaving with each distraught breath he took. He slumped to his knees, and screamed.

THREE

8 MONTHS AGO- DECEMBER

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Rowan asked Elias solemnly, eyeing him with concern.
He’s not looking well.
Rowan thought, noting Elias’s sallow cheeks, the way he sat hunched over, defeated, staring blank eyed at the empty white canvas, uninspired. Elias turned his head up to her, blinking slowly, then nodded, staggering to his feet.

Rowan had been well for almost two weeks, Elias only mobile for a day, though his arm was still in a sling the majority of the time. It had not been broken as they had feared, but father still told Elias to not to put too much strain on it.

Rowan had not seen her father yet this morning, and she found herself sighing in relief. Every time she saw her father, he cried, fat tears welling in his eyes as he muttered to himself, checking their heartbeats, making sure Rowan’s head was healing normally, or that Elias’s wound was closing properly.

Rowan had always adored her father, emulated him even. Thought of him as her savior when he wasn’t absent saving other people’s lives.

But it turned out he was nothing more than a coward.

The morning was quiet with fresh snow and Rowan could feel darkness lurking in the air, she wore a troubled expression as her and Elias made their way out to the back yard, though she couldn’t say why. They made their way to sit beneath the Great Tree, with its huge branches that would shelter them from the cold.

Rowan wanted to be away from mother. Although she had not seen her since fathers return she could hear her banging about the house, hitting walls and slamming vases on the floor, shouting for their father.

Rowan and Elias stepped outside wrapped in furs, but despite the warmth that gave them, they shivered and pressed together as they walked inaudibly to the bench beneath the Great Tree. Their heads were down, shielding their faces from the biting cold, so they did not notice anything amiss, until they stood right upon the scene.

The bench where they would have sat, where they had stood atop as younger children and pretended it was a large mountain, or ran across playing catch or swords, was tipped over. Above it hung their father, a large, coarse rope wrapped around his neck. His skin was blue, his eyes were closed, and he swayed slightly, like a single blade of grass in the slow lazy wind.

Rowan just stared at him for the longest time, days perhaps years maybe millennia, not saying a word, barely breathing. Beside her, Elias began crying, his shoulders heaving as he dropped to the ground in defeat. Rowan felt empty as she looked at her father, a hollow feeling carving its way through her chest, like there was nothing left of her inside, Rowan felt as dead as her father. She watched torpidly as her father, her protector, her savior, swung dead in the frigid winter air, snow gathering on his shoulders like a coat.

He’s no better than mother, worse maybe.

Rowan turned and retreated inside the house watching from a window as Elias fetched a shovel and attempted to break the solid winter ground to bury their father. Rowan could see large tears rolling down his red cheeks. Elias struck the ground savagely, throwing the shovel in a fit of rage, the concrete like ground refusing to make a grave for him. All the while, her father swung from the corner of her eye, his body hanging limply from the Great Tree.

Rowan went wordlessly to her room, lost in a haze of numbness and indifference. Rowan heard the back door open and Elias stomp furiously into the house, slamming the door on the frosty winter weather. She stepped gingerly up the steps, counting each one as she went up them.
15. 16. 17. 18. No better than mother. There are 18 steps to the second floor, and father’s dead. Father’s dead. Dead.
Rowan thought calmly, as if she was calculating totals for maths
.

She pushed her way into her room and sat atop her fluffy bed, the blankets soft and luxurious under her. Elias vaulted himself into the room after her, his footfalls heavy as he stomped, his face dark, and angry lines wove around his puffy red eyes. Elias hit a wall near the door, cursing under his breath. Rowan sat still, watching his chest heave and fall, blinking slowly and precisely.

Elias struck the wall again making an indent in the smooth wood. “Damnit!” He cursed, shaking his hand vigorously then tucking it to his chest.

“Father says you need to wear your sling, your arms not healed yet.”  Rowan said slowly, absentmindedly.

“Said.” Elias spat, tears once again trekking down his face. “Father SAID I need to wear a sling.” Elias corrected her, sitting cross-legged on the floor and burying his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Right. Said.” Rowan repeated, like a parrot, learning new words, her brow furrowing as though Elias had given her a complicated equation to solve. Rowan was never any good with numbers.

“DARRREENNNNNNNNNNN!” Rowan heard screech through the house, the animalistic grief of her mother as she saw her dead husband. Elias shot to his feet, staring wide eyed at the bedroom door, and hastily closed it.
That won’t keep her out.
Rowan thought, shaking her head at Elias’s meager attempt to block their mother. Rowan could hear her roaring throughout the house, coming closer.
She will kill us this time.
Rowan thought, feeling creeping back into her, a thunder striking fear that clawed its way into her throat and stole her breath away. A terror so definitive that Rowan’s knees shook and her heart stopped beating altogether.

Fear filled her until she knew nothing else and she launched to her feet behind Elias, who stood with his feet braced, his hands baled into fists at his side, staring at the door.  Rowan’s body shook, like a thin fragile leaf in the wind, and she bounced on the balls of her feet. She felt like a caged animal, panicked, knowing the inescapable slaughter was roaring its way closer to her, she could hear death’s deafening bellow just outside the door.

The door hurled open, cracking in its hinges at the force and slammed against the wall behind it, sending blocks flying across the room.

“You killed him!” Her mother shrieked, tears falling angrily down her cheeks. Her hair was wild about her head, sticking up at odd angles. In front of her, she wielded a large butchering knife, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles were white. She breathed raggedly, her breaths coming in fast puffs. 

“If anyone killed him, it was you.” Elias said steadily, though Rowan could see his body shaking slightly and he wiped his palms on his pants, clearing the sweat that had dripped down his arms. Rowan looked at Elias, shocked. Elias had never dared speak back to mother before. Though he was twice her size, he had only recoiled below her.
Because
, Rowan thought,
he thinks we deserve this
.

Their mother wailed deep in her throat, throwing her head back, a cataclysmic sound that Rowan thought she would rather die than ever hear again. It was pure loathing, grief, and sorrow. It was the sound a shattered soul made when their whole existence had been obliterated into tiny fragments of glass they knew they would never be able to piece back together no matter how bloody and destroyed their hands became. 

Their mother advanced on them, holding the knife in front of her, a mad look mortared her face.
This is the true face of my mother. Not the one fixated in rage but the one she wears now
, Rowan thought, her heart sinking into her stomach. Rowan looked at her mother wide eyed and took a step back from the monster that stood before her, but it was not enough, a dozen feet back, a million feet back, 17 years back and a thousand prayers would never be enough to escape the knife-wielding beast before her.

“Stop.” Elias said in such a soft voice Rowan was not sure she had heard him speak at all. Their mother halted, a look of surprise flickering in her eyes before she descended upon them again. “Stop.” Elias repeated, his voice firmer, his eyes squinting as if concentrating intently on something. Elias’s voice sounded altered, and Rowan looked at him quizzically.
What has changed in my brother?
She thought frightfully.

Her mother froze, twitching as though she wanted to move closer, but invisible shackles had been placed upon her, holding her captive in her own body. Her brow creased, her lips thinned, and she twitched again, trying to bring up her hand. Futile though, it seemed. She screamed, a high-pitched shriek that bellowed from her chest and made Rowan cringe as though the sound itself would stop her heart, when her mother stopped she breathed heavily, the mask of insanity etched back onto her face as though it had always belonged there, falling into familiar lines.

“I knew it!” She sobbed, “I knew it!” She screeched, clearly delusional in her grief.

“Leave now.” Elias said in that same musically soft voice, and before either Rowan or Elias could react their mother turned and dashed from the room, howling all the way until her voice disappeared and her children were left in a suffocating silence that lasted

One

Two

Three heartbeats

Elias turned to her, his eyes lit in exhilaration and he bounced up and down with energy. “It’s wonderful Rowan!” He exclaimed, his face brightening with a smile.

“What did you do, Elias?” Rowan questioned, fearful for her manic brother.

“It’s the most amazing thing!” He said excitedly, his eyes flipping quickly between hers, clutching at the shirt above his chest. “I was wrong Rowan, it’s not bad, and it feels… it feels like EVERYTHING Rowan!” He told her, his eyes wide and animated. “It’s the most amazing thing! I can feel it in me, like pure energy. This is how Gods feel Rowan!” He bounced, looking down at his arms as if seeing them for the first time, he wore a mad smile and his body vibrated with energy. Elias laughed as he vaulted himself from their room, skipping down the hall.

Rowan looked after him, stunned for

One

Two