Miss Ward woke up, announcing dinner was ready. I hadn’t got up yet as she left the room. I went downstairs to the entrance room and then opened the door to the dining room. Chicken was already on the table and Darrell was sat on, with the TV screen turned on BBC One.
“Sit here, Hayden. The news are coming.”
I already used to dine every day with the news on background when my parents were alive, so I didn’t see anything special on it. Then I remembered, that first night when I saw the Apollonids, that Darrell gave a lot of importance to it. I didn’t care anyway; there was always the same stuff, over and over. Somebody killed somebody else somewhere, some politician said something, and then something about football. Sometimes they reported big things that caused a lot of deaths, and they talked about it for many weeks, but I never cared. It was just what news were supposed to be: tons of corpses on the screen.
That day, it looked like it had been one of those days. Apparently, a bomb had exploded in London, killing many. Whoever the responsible was, it was a foreigner who belonged to some group who regularly made these attacks, in the name of their ideology. The reporter named the killer’s ethnicity a lot of times, and I was sure Darrell was smiling whenever he heard that.
“Look, Hayden,” he said, while I chewed, “they all want us to be dead. They are killing machines.”
I snorted. Did he really think I wouldn’t realize he was saying that to raise my hate?
“Hayden, whatever you may think, you cannot deny the facts,” he said, like if had just read into my thoughts. “Do you know how many attacks they have done to our civilization? This is not the first time they do so. Try to criticize them and they’ll threaten you. They think we should all bow to their ridiculous beliefs.”
His speech, indeed, sounded quite in accordance to what they were now saying on the TV. For the first time in my life, I actually felt afraid in front of the news. Did really those want us all dead? It seemed so. When you hear about them killing dozens, sometimes even hundreds, in some foreign country, after the third or fourth time you just think they’re some crazy foreigners; then they put their bombs within your country, close to you, you suddenly feel fear, and fear turns into hate.
But out of a sudden, I remembered something they always told us at my old school: everyone is equal and we should all love each other. I even had some classmates whose parents belonged to that ethnicity, who were actually quite nice, unlike my bullies, who were 100% English.
I told Darrell, and he readily replied.
“Your ex-classmates may not be mean, but be sure their parents are. Believe me, once they’re adults they’ll force them to marry only other people belonging to their race, and if they don’t, they’ll beat them to death.”
I felt a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing something like that. Having no way to disprove him, I could only convey it was the truth.
“Do you fight them, too?”
“Oh no, we can’t,” Darrell laughed in a joyless way, “we would come out to everyone. Besides, fighting the Apollonids takes too much time of your life.”
Finally, the report about the bombings in London ended. As the next news began, I fully realized what I was going to hear. They were going to report the murder of my parents.
I attempted to leave the table, declaring I was full, despite my plate being only half-emptied.
“Stay there, Hayden.”
“I don’t think I can handle it, Darrell...”
“This is an order.”
“I don’t want!” I shouted.
Darrell got up. He rapidly came to me with flame in his eyes, took my arm by brute force and literally forced me to sit back.
“If you still haven’t understood, you’re under my responsibility now. And if I tell you to finish your dinner, then you must obey.”
Those harsh words felt like a knife in my brain. The contrast between this new Darrell and the Darrell I used to know made me lose it.
“You’re this mean only because you must train me to be your little hateful soldier! I know it!”
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“Then go. Go away. You’re free to leave this manor. But tell me, where shall you stay?”
He won. Of course I had nowhere else to go.
He turned off the TV. “The news is over, they’re just talking about some celebrity’s love story. Now finish your dinner. In silence.”
“Yes.”
***
Next morning, we had breakfast with the TV turned on the news again. They talked about the attack in London for at least half of the time. Would they attack Plymouth too? I wouldn’t go there often, since I was going to be homeschooled, but what if I had to go there for some reason?
“They could attack everywhere, Hayden,” Darrell said. “Of course, should we need to go in town, we can’t shut ourselves, but you never know with them.”
Finally, crime news. Although every inch of my body begged for leaving, I knew Darrell would force me to stay. Three murder news in a row, and each time I shivered in fear, expecting my parents to be the next news; but they never came.
“They were on the news some days ago. It’s time for them to pass on the next corpses.”
“Oh.”
“Now we’re going to the dungeon.”
He turned off the TV and got up, walking towards the door, without waiting for me. While I walked, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in London. I used to live close...what if I had never moved here, and for some reason I had been there yesterday? The vision of the long, dark spiral staircase only amplified those feelings as I descended them and entered the gloomy dungeon.
“So,” Darrell began, as I put myself next to him, “in your case, we already covered how to evoke the fireballs. Call them.”
Remembering our training sessions in the countryside, I thought of the bullies at school. But nothing came.
“Looks like you’re a bit out of shape,” he commented.
“I just need some time...”
But I didn’t feel anything against my old classmates: they already belonged to a distant past.
Then a picture in my mind appeared...
A family returning from a pleasant dinner outside, about to get back into their comfortable house. Two faceless criminals, with guns. A series of shots. Lifeless bodies on the street. A child screaming his pain...
Immediately, without even needing to make an effort to think, the fireballs reappeared for the first time in six months.
“Now throw them at the statues.”
My brain recorded some kind of order to follow, but it was no more able to decipher it. My fireballs were getting bigger, and it felt like they were in control of me. A primitive, uncontrollable state of mind was possessing me: I wanted nothing more than burning up everything around me...
“HAYDEN!”
I reconnected. My hands were no more burning. Every inch of my skin was covered in sweat. I kneeled, feeling like I was about to vomit, but nothing came out of my mouth.
“What...happened?”
“You threw some very big fireballs at me,” he answered, emotionless.
“I...”
“I don’t care. You know I can perfectly defend myself from them.” He took a deep breath. “You were thinking of your parents, didn’t you?”
I was still recovering myself: it took me a while to realize what Darrell had just asked me.
“What...how did you...know it?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. You were feeding your fireballs off rage. That isn’t the right way to do it.”
That left me puzzled. We had practised on my ancient feelings for my bullies, and that wasn’t so different on an emotional level. Much less intense, sure, but its nature was the same. Why wasn’t it good any more, I asked?
“You partly said the answer yourself: it was much less intense, so I could teach you the basics quicker. However, that wasn’t supposed to last. Now, why, according to you, do I make you listen to the news?”
“Because they make me feel hate.”
“That’s only half of the truth. The other half is, because it isn’t personal. It generates a form of hate which is equal and opposite to rage: disdain. Rage, as you have just experienced, takes the whole control of your mind: it is the kind of hate Apollonids are made of. Disdain, instead, is rational, aimed at something very specific. For disdain, destruction is not the end, but a means; for rage, the opposite is true.”
“What does disdain have to do with the news?”
“It has everything to do with the news. As a Darkfire, it’s also beneficial for your spirit: once you’re accustomed to disliking the world for what it is, and not for what it has done to you, you’ll feel superior to it.”
I nodded, despite my mind buzzing with confusion. I was still a child, and back then, things were simpler: I would either love or hate something, no shades of grey.
In any case, I understood one thing: I had to avoid personal memories. It was one of the best news I’d heard recently, knowing that I had to forget everything. But then I remembered the fear I felt in front of the television while the anchorman described the bloody attacks in London, and couldn’t see how that was better.
“So I must think of the news starting from now?”
“Precisely. Although you’ll still need some of your memories – your positive ones. To learn how to stop attacks thrown at you.”
Damn. How was I supposed to remember those happy moments with my parents without exploding again?
“Enough with explanations. You’re going to figure all out by yourself with time anyway. Hayden, try another time.”
I recomposed myself, almost choking from the effort of not recalling the memory of my parents. I had to think of the news...those foreigners...who came living here to murder us...filthy and uncivilized...
...the fireballs appeared. I looked at the stone statue in front of me, with absolute indifference. I threw them, missing my target by a mile, but Darrell was very pleased.
“Very well, Hayden. You understood the concept quite quickly, I must say. Now you only need to train your precision when throwing the balls.”
He was looking at me with an encouraging look. I felt a bit strange. It felt like if I was...reinvigorated, more in peace with myself, solely for my status as an English citizen, something superior to those murderers. Darrell was right: it felt much, much better...almost pleasant.
After one hour, I still couldn’t direct the balls to the right statue, but nevertheless, Darrell’s look expressed satisfaction.
“It is sufficient for now, Hayden. We shall now go up for lunch, then you’ll rest and at 3:00 PM we’ll come back here in the dungeon.”
I could get used to this.