15 years

After the attack on the village, life at home slowly but surely returned to normal. Buildings were rebuilt, lives put back together, and collectively my little community tried to move on. Of course, not everything was exactly the same. For example, Daniel led a push to expand the local militia and start constructing defensive palisades around the village perimeter. I was quite proud of the leadership he displayed in the immediate fallout of the initial attack. I think seeing him fight to defend our town led others to look to him naturally. If I had system access I could have likely done the same. Perhaps the palisades will need defensive wards one day?

Walls were not the only change either. The inevitable horrors of pubescence, slow and insidious as they may be, did come to finally claim me. This inescapable shame, coupled with the frequent pains of skeletal realignment (what mother calls ‘growth spurts’) has been the primary source of my most recent suffering. If only that were the end of it.

Physical pain is not enough apparently, as the myriad symptoms seem almost hand-crafted to embarrass and shame me into emotional torment as well. All consistency was gone from my voice, the previously high-pitched tone, while grating, was at least regular. Frequent cracks and warbles now plague me as my throat no doubt adjusts to a new pitch. Even that would be tolerable on its own, however. No, the worst of it by far and away, is the inescapable descent into manhood.

I can recall vaguely from my first tangle with adolescence some of the more persistent side effects. One factor I have no such experience with. Leigh. Every time she laughs I feel my heart tighten in my chest. Her smile puts fire in my blood, and when she looks at me my thoughts flee to unknown worlds. Leigh’s mere presence commands all of my attention at any given time, and I have yet to find recourse.

Just last week she came over in the evening to have dinner with us. Apparently, her father was “working late” on some rush order he got. The story sounded suspicious but I didn’t want to question her presence. I digress, she came over before sunset, and mother and I were in the kitchen doing preparations for dinner. Mother, in an unprecedented act of betrayal, insisted that Leigh help in my stead. Something about me doing “more harm than good”. Unbelievable.

Neia’s comment elicited a laugh from Leigh, and as I turned to look her way it was as if time had stopped. She smiled, brushing a small lock of her fiery red hair out of her face. Our eyes met, and I felt my face heating up. She glanced away, and at that moment I felt something I’d never known before. I’m not sure I can describe it even now.

These feelings worry me deeply. On one hand, I see Leigh as the close childhood friend have I grown up with all these years, but with the memories of my past life, I can’t get past the perception of her being so much younger than me, even if our bodies are the same. I can’t deny that I’m fond of her. She seems to be the only person outside of my immediate family not somehow unsettled by me. No one is cruel exactly, but Leigh continues to be the only one who is actively kind. She reminds me of a lost puppy in a way, her kindness and trust seem unconditional.

Thus, I feel it would be a disservice to her for my own conflicted and confused feelings to somehow damage or distort one of the most valuable relationships I have. I am likely only delaying an inevitable confrontation and self-reflection regarding my feelings for her, but that is a problem for the future. Maybe once this body has fully grown, and Leigh comes into her own as a mature adult, I’ll explain my reservations to her fully. I do feel bad for not telling her already, but a large part of me fears her reaction if she were to learn my secret. A negative reaction to the unknown is notably common among the uneducated. People fear what they can’t control.

My own feelings about her aside, Leigh has been spending more and more time visiting us lately. Her constant presence after the wyvern incident at first seemed like a misplaced feeling of debt, but now I’m not so sure. It’s been years, surely by now anything she felt she owed us has been repaid. Or at least I thought so initially. The reality of the matter turned out far less comforting than I’d ever hoped.

After their home was leveled in the attack, Leigh’s father never fully rebuilt their house. He had a workshop so he could keep working, and a small attached building with enough space for him and Leigh to live, but only just barely. They had no kitchen, no dining space, and according to Leigh, they didn’t even have a table anymore. Her father had resorted to purchasing most of his meals from the local tavern instead of providing for his family. Occasionally he’d give Leigh money to get food of her own, but the word on the street is that he often uses that for booze. Leigh looked hurt when I tried to ask her about it so I decided not to push the subject. It’s not her fault after all, she doesn’t deserve to be interrogated much like she doesn’t deserve to suffer.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As much as her home life riled me, I was willing to support her in silence. She could eat every meal at our house, and stay until sundown while her father drank away his sadness. I knew Leigh was hurting as well. She seemed to shrink whenever I called Neia “mom”, and on more than one occasion I had been her literal shoulder to cry on. In those moments of vulnerability and weakness, she almost seems, pathetically small. I must remind myself she’s a child going through a traumatic event, I shouldn’t judge her too harshly.

However, the death of his wife is no excuse for her father to turn away from his daughter when she needs him more than ever. The worst part of his failure illuded me for a long while though. I wish I had known sooner, it would have given me more time to plan.

Leigh’s father was taking his rage out on her. She never told me, and I never saw the signs. The only reason I found out was due to a mistake on his part. He failed to cover his tracks, whatever Leigh had usually suffered through wasn’t enough, and this time he’d left a bruise on her face. She’d arrived at our house early one morning, her right cheekbone swollen and purple. It boiled my blood when I saw it, and I could tell mother and father were having similar thoughts. Mother led her to the kitchen to tend the wound, and like the idiots we are Daniel and I just stood in the doorway fuming.

He was the first to break the silence.

“Vincent, I haven’t ever explained common law to you. Did you know most nations consider children almost like the parent’s property? And with a few exceptions many nations default to a man as the head of a household?” father grimaced, the unfortunate truth of our current situation distilled downwards into a single hypothetical question.

“So if Leigh wanted to move out of her father’s house permanently what could she do?” I asked, already fearing the answer.

“She’d either need to get his consent, come of age, or start a family of her own. Which would require him to approve a marriage.”

“That doesn’t seem likely given his recent displays of character” I said through gritted teeth.

“No. It does not.” father sighed.

“Half the town already thinks the two of you are courting” he chuckled dryly. It had never occurred to me how the amount of time Leigh and I spent together might appear to others. I just enjoyed her company. Much the same way one plays with an animal. She’s my friend.

“but I’m not sure we have anything to offer as a bride price that would convince a man like that to agree”

I could feel the deep sadness in his tone along with conflicted anger.

“Can’t you just convince him to stop? Or make him go away?” I asked, not daring to be hopeful at that moment. Surely dad could leverage all his combat levels to convince a rural blacksmith to behave himself, even if it did get a bit physical.

“If I knock him around, all that does is teach him to be more careful in the future. Leigh’s gone this far without telling us anything.” Daniel groaned, his eyes locked on the silhouettes of the village in the distance. I meant kill him, but apparently Daniel didn’t grasp that subtlty.

He opened his mouth to speak up a few more times but never seemed to find the words he wanted.

“Your mom’s always going on and on about how mature you are for your age, and here I am talking to you like an old guard buddy” he laughed after a while. I wasn’t sure if he was laughing at himself or at the strange situation.

“We’ll talk about this some more tonight. Best not keep the gals waiting.” He said, stepping out of the doorway and back into the house. As I followed behind he mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t quite hear, but I could feel a pressure radiating off him I’d never seen before.

That night we had a quiet and calm dinner as a family. It didn’t need to be spoken aloud by anyone, we all knew, Leigh was family now and had been for a long time. It wasn’t going to stand like this, we just had to figure out how to fix it first.

Mother offered several times to let Leigh stay the night. In a surprising turn of events Father even offered to go “let her dad know, and make sure it was okay with him”. His spear leaning near the door said more than his words did.

Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, Leigh refused. My heart was pounding in my chest as she left, a thousand horrible worries running through my mind. I snapped back to myself when I felt father’s hand on my shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s talk inside.”