"A Human? In these lands, a vile beast, are you?" A Careless man

Chapter 9: While You Were Sleeping

A headache! “Owww,” I woke up with a massive migraine tossing and turning. My poor head felt like it was splitting open. I planted my head down and braced for impact. Mind screaming at me to take cover, throwing up my skinny scrawny arms in defense shielding my face from the specks. Breath ragged, heart pounding, eyes closed tight. I wanted to scream but I was too busy groaning from the pain.

The headache made my brain feel like it was burning cold. Could fire even be cold!? Was that even possible!?

Forearms pressed to my head in panic, I protected my skull from the invisible threat that was coming my way. I was overwhelmed again; I was trying to keep the specks… the specks?

Blinking and rolling my dry eyes to get the black specks from out in front of my face.

The pile of black specks on top of me came crumbling down as I looked to my left… and to my right.

“Where…where did it go?” the arm-shaped cinder block of jumbled shades coalescing around blue blood vessels.

“Bad dream.” rubbing my eyes with my hands I breathed in.

“I am home, I am safe.” Nothing can harm me here. In my room.

“That was the worst nightmare I’d ever had,” now to forget it ever happened.

Throwing myself backward onto my white bed sheets, my hands running some life back into my eyes.

“Yaaaawn!!!”

“Another day begins… What day is it again?” Turning over on my left side in my favorite white pajamas…

“When did I put these on,” my pajamas were black, my bed sheets were black.

“I’m growing by the day,” I hated it, if being 166 centimeters isn't tall enough for someone my age. “Not again, why does this always happen to me!!!” I hate this feeling!

One eye sunk into a pillow, another looking at the clock on my dresser beyond bed borders break.

“Mah mah… Monday, September 5th” ^_^, my voice grew hoarse by the second. I needed water. Thrown in my face, tor a drink I'd settle for either.

Mr. SMILEY, my friendly neighborhood timekeeper must be broken. I’d had him since I was eleven.

“That was scary. I must be dehydrated, feel like I got my life sucked right out of me.” We live in a scary world.

Imagine my surprise to find out that Mr. Smiley and his round oval shaped mouse ears… To find out that it wasn’t June but September. To find out that the flecks and specks are so much worse than they should have been, a feeling like my eyes had been open all day.

Not only did I have a migraine, but I also had a major case of dry eye as a side dish. There was no party, and I hadn’t made any progress or personal growth.

“Saddening, disheartening…” Wow, I cannot believe my eyes.

“It's September?” Talking to myself looking back down at my phone that was somehow clasped in my waking hand.

Eyes were so dry I didn't even feel it. I felt like a sun-dried raisin.

Was I losing my mind? I started crying on my clean “Black” bed sheets. Had my covers been changed, but when? I could've sworn that the last time I saw them they were white.

Losing the remaining calm I had left. My dry throat, shaking from the cry I let out that went bouncing across the room walls, I felt like a ghost.

The acoustics in my room had somehow changed as well.

What were the odds that I'd lived through a nightmare? A nightmare…it had to be a nightmare.

'It wasn’t a dream' I just know it! It couldn't have been a dream. I had to trust myself on this, the migraine was proof enough.

Father would tell me to trust my instincts so why couldn't I!? This was beyond instinct. My nose would be twitching if… my nose?

“Why does my nose feel runny? Why is it so cold in here? “

My windows were never left open on account of all the dead things finding their way onto my hardwood floor.

Is my nose bleeding!? I raised my right hand to my nose, wiping a cold substance that had dripped down to my upper lip. I almost recalled an image, raising my hand to take a peek at the cold substance on my fingers.

I was looking at my fingers. There was… on my fingers.

“PAPAA!!!?”

“Father!!!” Where are they!?! I hopped out of bed wobbling and running for the hallway.

My bedroom door begged for my attention, but I couldn’t give a shit about it.

‘Shit?’ that's a bad word.

“Shit!” the word leaving my mouth, it felt wrong. The words somehow didn't belong to me.

"They're not mine! I didn't mean to!" I wouldn't use that word, something felt off and tears wouldn't stop falling. No matter how hard I tried to keep them in, the tears would flood. But why was I trying to stop myself from crying when they needed to flow?

‘It's not good to hold things in my love.’ His words, I missed my papa, even when he wasn't here. I miss him!

Crying was my only natural reaction. There was something therapeutic about being wrung out after waking up and feeling like a pile of… A pile of "Shit."

Staring back at my bedroom door, a flood followed by a bunch of other knee-jerk reactions out of my control. I began running down the hall to my parent's room out from the west wing, questioning anything and everything.

"It is my room, right?” I've lived here my whole life. Why did I have to question it.

Taking a minute to run down the hall.

“The door was locked, the door is never locked, especially not in the morning.” Something is wrong, this feels wrong, this day feels wrong, "It's all wrong!’ I wailed, falling to my knees no one is ever there when I need them.

"Adena.”

The voice was far, but I had heard it.

The voice was the real ghost in the Mabtali Mansion, and as I was whimpering on the floor it hit me. I had turned it off.

There were still specks but I had stopped them from moving. Everything seemed normal. ‘How did I do that?’

I was encumbered by stress, and I kept piling on more shit to the heating pile.

Another anomaly, I shouldn't have been able to stop the specks. “They disappeared!” Where was my life!!! “It's wrong, I can't remember!” I screamed, letting the whole estate hear about the latest malfunctioning faucet.

Then the voice came again, an echo from the other side of the door.

Someone was home. I wasn't alone, “I am never alone,” trying to catch my breath finally concluding that I might be having a panic attack.

“Slow your breathing, let it come in, like the waves, I am not the ocean, emotions come and go like a tide, I am the shore, Stand, breathe. Breathe in and out.” My heart was slowing as I repeated the mantra.

‘Atta Girl,’ Where was my day… where are my dad's?

‘Father was right, he always is.’ It took a minute to grasp a hold of reality.

It was time to think about the world around me. “I’m home. Safe, breathe in and out, slow and steady."

My eyes were fuzzy after I had opened them.

They seemed more used to the strain and mental burden, a burden I was carrying forever and always.

This is nothing I've seen worse; I've seen more than what lies beyond these walls whatever that may be.

Am I just going to stare at the oak? My parents are on the other side. ‘And I don’t think knocking is going to get someone to open this door.’

“It wasn't just a dream,” I said, feeling the memories that belonged to another life.

The memories were hiding at the back of my mind like a dream that didn’t want to resurface. I could feel my heart speeding back up, trying to recall wherever my time was spent.

I didn't want to know and for now, I'd leave it that way. The cold sweat creeping down my back was enough to pull me away from the temptation to pry into that metaphorical can of worms.

"I should focus on something else. The voice, yeah, the voice!” These are my eyes; I know how they work.

I tried coaching myself through the specks. “Look slowly, observe the colors but don't look too far for too long, it's that simple, I won't lose myself again, I promise."

Staring dulled daggers at the wooden door with specks made of green and dark shades of brown they moved slowly, vibrating together.

“I need them to slow down”, I needed the specks to stop moving. I can’t enter the door if I can’t see where the door ends, and the walls begin.

At times I feel like I was floating. And the world, what others perceived as dry land… it was suffocating.

The specks jump and writhe until I pass out on the floor groaning.

“I can do it.” What was I doing?

A psycho was talking to herself “Don’t move the door, it's part of a larger whole of the wall, don't look past the house only the wall, it's simple.”

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Normal Eyes were only meant to see what was in front of the holder, I needed to focus and be undeterred by the jigsaw puzzle and its moving pieces.

I was always looking at things for what they were, at face value. When I’d focus on an object or person or the specks themselves, I would be overwhelmed by what lay beyond those things on a smaller level and there was always something ‘beyond’, it’s why I become overwhelmed. I get it now. It was like going on a ride, but you weren’t the person inside the car.

“I am the car, the air outside the car, I need a change of perspective.” That’s how my eyes worked. It was all about perspective.

“Why am I still crying,” I sniffed, not daring to look at my hand or wipe it anywhere.

Gathering the courage and hardening my will to knock down my parents' bedroom door. As if it was possible for a scrawny short stack of girl who couldn't recognize fatigue.

I focused. My goal was to get to the other side. “Ignore the colors, ignore the specks themselves”, nothing more or less.

I didn’t like what I was seeing on the other side.

A man had fallen on the other side. He was weak, as he was skinny.

I stopped trying to glimpse past the bedroom door. I had seen too much. I needed to see him, but I kept telling myself ‘This is wrong, on so many levels.’ I don’t like it!

I don’t like looking!

I was breaking again; I could only be so strong after seeing… Papa.

I was desperate to get around the door. Yet, terrified of what had collapsed on the other side…who had collapsed.

The nightmare I lived through just minutes ago couldn’t be compared to this. The fountain of life that was Papa had been sullied, he was left on the other side of the door, alone, wasting away.

Trying to bring down the door by banging it, I began screaming his name.

“Papa, Papa, Papaaa!!!” The door was locked, and his heart was so… his eyes, his mind.

‘Where was Father, why isn’t he here!? I need to get into this room.’ Starting to panic, I was losing my mind, something furious. Denial isn't the word to describe my feelings of anger and disbelief. It was a river in Egypt, and I could go for a cup of water.

“No Papa,” I could pass out from dehydration later. Papa would fight through blistering cracked lips for me.

Banging on the door, I couldn't find the reasons as to why and how.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real!” I was smooshed against the wood, frantic, and afraid.

How could I control my heart from beating out of my chest when I was denying reality itself. Pounding and pushing against the door in fear of losing my dad. My world was falling apart.

It was chaos.

In the chaos, a change occurred. I must have been seeing things. From the looks of it, I slipped through the door passing Papa and my parents' King-sized mattress stopping before a drawer.

What was on my mind, after physically drifting through one man, and an entire bed like I apparently did in my nonexistent life for the past few months.

I turned around hopping over the bed to the fallen patriarch of this once familiar household.

He was unconscious and deathly pale, for a ‘fine southern Black man’ as he often describes himself.

Where was he? This isn’t the man who raised me. Or the man I’d hoped would save me. How could he be strong for me when he couldn’t be strong for himself?

“Where is Father?” I didn’t want to wake up Papa because he was weak, and I knew he was still alive. My eyes had seen it. Holding Papa's head in my hands like the precious white dove he was, I was crying again. I had never stopped.

Trying to find my phone I hadn’t realized that I’d left it in my room on my bed.

A call needed to be made to Father, a man who had been absent.

Laying Papa's head down gently on the floor not even attempting to move him back to the bed. I got up, ran to my room, grabbed my phone off of my bed, and ran back all in record time.

The second phone number on my list of three was Father and the call button was hit without hesitation while I had Papa back in my hands.

No one was here to defend him from the unfamiliar walls of the Mabtali mansion except me, so that’s what I did. My eyes widened with anticipation. My heart was breaking from the current state of the greatest man in the entire world. And it must hold true because Father was nowhere to be found.

The phone rang for eight seconds expecting to hear a voicemail Father had answered.

There was a profound and heavy silence in between Papa’s heavy breathing. Someone had answered the phone… Father had answered, but he didn’t speak.

I knew he had answered but why didn’t he talk?

My voice was hoarse, and it hurt like I thought it would, from all the crying. And screaming. But it worked so I stuttered and said something. "Daddy is that you?” I could hear a “thump” on the other side of the phone that increased the sound of silence.

“I’m, I'm sorry?” He said…over the phone.

‘Who was this man? What did he apologize for? Why is everything so dreary?’ My heart ached for the girl and her Papa left to the wolves. Sobbing mucus running down my nose “Who else would it be? Where were you? Where are you? How could you let this happen?!” My face grew red, and I felt like I was dying probably from all the tears and snot that could’ve caused dehydration at the pace they were pushing.

I’d lick the blue off of my phone case if I could.

Father was about to reply. I could hear him, but his voice shifted from concern to shame. I know that tone, but not from him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I should’ve been there for you, I’m sorry,” he sounded like a broken record.

This world was strange from the moment I woke up.

The strong Man of steel I had known for my entire life was crying and he was crying with me at that.

“What’s wrong with Papa, why is he like this?” I asked.

From the sound of it, Father was worried about Papa, but he didn’t seem surprised by his declining health.

"My child, Papa's getting better I promise, don’t worry.” And then he hung up on me.

‘He hung up on me.’ He hung up on me.

I started rocking back and forth. Maybe I was clinically insane, but it felt like I had lost a part of my life. The castle was still up but the shelter had come crashing down.

We weren’t going to survive the storm.

I’d waited for the rain. But not this rain.

Noticing Papa’s discomfort, I took the pillows off of his bed and propped them under him.

He seemed malnourished more than heavy. Lying there I wrapped my arms around his body curled up in a fetal position on the left side making sure I could hear the heart that beat, for me.

Letting myself get lost in the sound of the engine powering Papa. To see, one of my Heroes fall before my very eyes.

I closed my eyes as they grew heavy and slipped away into a deep sleep forgetting about the world that had left me behind.

The world that left me to the sharks and robbed me of my memory. I didn’t care one bit about the false world, Papa was here next to me, and he needed me as much as I needed him.

I’d rather get lost in the sound of the heart that beat, a heart that beat only for me. I was home.

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Chapter 9: While You Were Sleeping (Part II)

I didn't dream, I didn't just sleep, I didn't just lie there thinking of memories escaping me by the minute. All that awaited me was rest, serenity had returned for the first time in what was forever, and I was ready to take it by hand. My attention was glued to one sound the circadian rhythm of a man who had been long awaiting my presence. I wanted to hug Papa even in my sleep and shower him with the warm embrace that only through him I had known countless times he had done the same, kindness and care were his forte.

In Between the deep moments of rest with my eyes still closed and my body lying next to his I observed the new additions to Papa's unique patterns of flecks.

His body had an overflow of dark unnatural greens on a smaller scale; they had polluted the usual bright blue that flowed through his veins, His eyes that once shined with wise white specks had been turned a shade darker approaching the gray, to top it off was the color that didn't belong at all. A black that seemed to be encasing, “shielding’ his specks from the green how exactly it got there I didn't know. Worry had no place in the deep rest that took place “It wasn't allowed” I wanted no, needed things to go back to the way they once were.

Slowly, my hope and longing for Papa’s health to improve had caused a change most crucial in his betterment, oblivious I was. My conscience faded in and out. unaware of Father's return who had arrived home no less than twenty minutes later to find me and Papa on the floor. Father had moved both of us onto Papa’s bed observing both of our conditions like it was his only role in the world. Waking up with brain fog was normal, not a splitting headache feeling near death, so I was happy to find myself in bed with my parents.

One was slowly watching the two with great patience, the other had regained some color but was still out like a light letting the hours go by. After rubbing Papa’s back, I turned over to the Obsidian black specks behind me and spoke my worry. “Daddy, what happened to me and Papa? ’The words were soft and low so that Papa's sleep would go undisturbed.

“How much do you remember?" he asked, staring into my eyes with deep dark browns and specks of rich wise whites. 'I was kidnapped.’ I replied breathing out hoping that the dream wasn’t true. 'Do you remember anything else?’ he said. “No, I just woke up in bed I think yesterday, and everything felt wrong somehow." Breathing out a sigh he seemed relieved. It was unbelievable how he could be relieved instead of concerned or worried for our well-being like he knew more than he was letting on.

“Where were you? Is there something else I should know, why did I sleep for so long, it's been months, What's wrong with Papa!?’ I tried not to raise my voice, but I couldn't help it. Tears went streaming down my face in an instant. I watched Father's eyes lying in front of my face while Papa lay behind me. He was a quick thinker. I knew my father hadn't been telling the truth but there was something off about him. It seemed smaller like he hadn’t been able to deal with any of this.

“I'm sorry my love. I failed you; we only wanted you to get exposed to new people that was all. What happened- It wasn't planned.” He stuttered through that whole sentence, and it made him seem like a different person. Someone I've known my whole life to be unwavering fumbles his words. And for a second, he'd had an accent. What was going on?

My sharpest knife had been dulled and I didn't know whether to be angry or disappointed, but I knew one thing and that was that I didn't want to cry. I couldn’t say that he left me alone because I knew what his answer would be. “You are never alone,” said in an ominous mysterious tone so I moved to the next thing.

“What happened to us?’ my voice hoarse, my eyes heavy. I needed to know the truth.

“I don't know if you remembered but we had thrown a party.” He took a breath forcing down what seemed like anger then continued “Her name was Rachel I don't know if you are familiar with the name, but she turned herself in after- The incident shook you to your core.” It seemed like a tall tale but why would Papa lie? He hadn't said much leading me to piece things together. it's why I ignored the shades of silver that were flowing out of his mouth. Black snakes and small rancid worms became silver, but I trusted my father who else in the world could I lean on?

I ignored what my eyes had told me. “Papa?” was the only word I said next.

Father sighed, “That's rather easy to answer, Covid hasn't been nice to my dear husband he's been having trouble for months. He was getting worse by the day, but now here we are.”

“Why weren't you here for him?” I almost screamed, waiting for him to show a concern that I had been waiting for desperately. I was waiting for him to rub my head and tell me everything would be okay. Instead, his response was, “I was only gone for an hour, and believe me it wasn't this bad when I left. I'm sorry my love, Papa’s been getting monitored in another room downstairs.”

This all seemed too easy. I didn't like it. The fog that was clouding my mind couldn't be cut with a dull knife and I was still left wondering why. “Don't worry Adena, Elijah’s strong he’ll get better just give it time.” I put my head on Father's chest, feeling the wool he was wearing. He shook now and then; I thought it was because both of us had been powerless.

The night was bitter, and I couldn't taste dinner well enough to tell if it was the same. At the dinner table Paula, Dad, and I sat without Papa's company. The Buff and beige woman had asked if I still wanted to go to public school.

I was at a loss for words. What was she talking about? Then a memory resurfaced of a woman, a girl.? Her name was, “Rachel”, I was sure of it, "You've never been to public school?" she asked. We were captives, that's all I could uncover before letting the sheer shroud the memory.

She was shouting at first saying how ‘I wasn’t a normal girl, how I’d lived a golden spoon, How the world doesn't owe me anything nor did she.' The memory was foggy, but I knew one thing: I was going to school, and nothing could stop me.

So, it was decided. Not out of fear or Rachel's words being convincing. It was something I had to do.

A will of my own had lit a fire. Rachel thought she was better than me, she somehow convinced herself that I wasn’t a person who didn't have feelings or deserve pity. She treated me like I wasn't a human being.

It chilled me to think people could be so… so cruel.

“I’ll prove you wrong” looking up at Paula from my plate.

She was at the table not because she necessarily wanted to be or had to be there but because Father had spoken to her about my future transition, and she was “glad” to help. According to Father “I needed managing”, anything to aid a serious case of brain fog, and the muck that was now my life.

Paula, following Fathers line of reasoning began making “adjustments” to what was an organized playtime. I was “homeschooled” before Paula changed my routine of wake, exercise, eat, learn, burn sleep. Pay no mind to the “burn/ burning of more callous part,” there was a lot of eating that took place.

“Adena you're unsightly,” my imagination after looking in the mirror and seeing an actual ghost girl. Papa couldn’t and wouldn't tell me such a thing, but I was his daughter. And Paula’s newly appointed priority.

Paula would soon help me acclimate to my imposter syndrome while Papa was on bed rest.

A whisper of reason would return in a few days and the Mabtali Mansion would be back on track. It was kind of like I was up to code for the health inspector to start antagonizing the building, that was my mind.

The storm was passing, and the crew had managed without a captain. There were nights when the ghost of him haunted the ship. To tell the sea that there was more to voyage.

Papa was alive. And that was all I could ask for.

“I’d be most thankful if Papa were to make a full recovery. Please, help him.” If anyone's listening.