Blake stood, watching over Bree silently. He brought his hand up to his eye, wiping the gentle tear off of his face, though he still had tears trickling down his other cheek. He lowered his gaze down to where he could see the men carrying the box out of the town. His mother was in that box, her face empty and her lips no long smiling.
Part of Blake felt as if he shouldn't be feel anything about it, but still he loved her. How couldn't he? No matter what your parents drag you through or how much pain they caused you, there will still be a part of you that will always love them. Even if you manage to hide it so well under layers of anger and hate. Blake never hated his mother, nor did he ever actually hate his father. But for so long, he was so angry at them for abandoning him and Eva, that he forgot that he did love them.
Now he stood watching them carry her off for the last time, and all he could feel was a cold emptiness gnawing on the inside of his stomach. The last words to his mother weren't happy, weren't loving. They were harsh and cruel. Same with Deanor's last words. Blake and Deanor had said them at the same time, in such cruel anger. Lynn was trying to gain their forgivness, and neither would give it to her.
In the end she hung herself.
The image of Blake's father hanging flashed in his face when he had seen her there. Pain burning through his body, weakening and capturing his breath. Now he stood on a hill above Bree, the men gone with the box, carrying Lynn away. The same painful weakness swept over Blake, though it quickly dispersed as he felt a hand clasp over his shoulder.
Blake's eyes moved to meet the dark, almost red eyes of Deanor, who stood behind him. The man didn't smile nor did he frown. His gaze wasn't angry, it was sad as his mouth opened, letting out a sigh. Finally Deanor said, "This is our fault."
"I thought ya would be down there with her as they burried her." Blake said in a flat, empty tone. He had no need to spare emotions on this man, the man who stole his mother away from Eva and him. Though another part of Blake honestly wanted to care about this man, he did mean so much to Lynn. However, he would never let Deanor know any of that.
Deanor's gaze moved from Blake's dark teal eyes to the town behind Blake. Then his eyes shifted back to Blake, burning into Blake as if he could read the young man's every thoughts no matter how well Blake hid them. His voice came out in a soft, cold whisper, "I don't deserve to be down there, and neither do you."
Blake's gaze narrowed at the Deanor, the man's hand still clasped over Blake's shoulder. The weight he applied almost made Blake's shoulder ache, but Blake didn't want to show the man that. Instead he just snarled out, "You have no right to decide such matters. She was my mother."
"And you refused to forgive her, do you know how much that hurt her. More than me not forgiving her. That's why she killed herself."
The pit, it fell into Blake's stomach, burning a hole at the bottom as if someone stuck a burning pipe to the bottom of Blake's stomach. The painful weakness came back as well, making Blake's legs feel oh so tired all the sudden. It took every bit of strength he had to keep them from shaking under his weight and remain steady. It also took all he could to keep his voice steady and strong, "She killed 'erself cause she was a miserable, cruel woman who finally realized she had no empathy for anyone, le' alone her own children."
"Never speak of Lynn like that," Deanor snarled as his grip on Blake's shoulder tighten, hatred crossing the man's eyes.
"Don' tell me wha' words I can and can't speak," Blake snarled out, almost spitting the words in Deanor's face. "Lynn was a terrible woman who abandoned 'er children ta live alone with their abusive father who later was arrested 'n hung. She didn' care tha the man was capable o' such horrors, and tha' he could'ave done tha same ta his six year old boy and his tiny babe."
The back hand came, he knew it would. He was so use to that backhand that it didn't even phase him. Instead he just sent his knee to strike up to Deanor's stomach, making the man double over and almost fall back as Blake continued to snarl, "Why'd ya two even come back. Hm? Cause ya wanted ta kill 'er? Cause ya thought ya'd come back 'n jus' be one big happy family? Tha' my dad would jus' letcha two come stay at our house 'n we could eat and laugh together? Well, life aint tha' happy ya know. Ya can't jus' go aroun' 'n do wha'ever ya wan' 'n think it'll all be happy 'n dandy."
Deanor slowly recollected himself, looking into Blake's eyes as his voice came out, colder and hateful, "Eva was my daughter. Not your father's. We came back to get Eva back, and instead found an irresponsible brat who could not even take care of his little sister. You think your mother is bad? You let your own sister disappear from your protection and probably have died."
Blake almost screamed in rage, Deanor's words cutting into the very depths of Blake's inner anger and guilt. Blake sent a punch, a very powerful punch to Deanor's face, striking his nose as he shouts, "I tried! Bu' how'd ya expect a six year old ta take care o' 'is sis when she couldn' even walk."
Deanor just fell, a howl of pain escaping his lips as he crashed down onto the earth below him, blood trickling from his nose that was pushed upward. The man's eyes didn't blink as his face grew pale. All the rage and anger that had been pushed out immediately faded as he looked down at the man. The man who was dead, all from one punch. Blake didn't know that was even possible that a punch could kill a man, he didn't know he had the strength to do that either.
But he didn't care to stick around, if the Watch came by and saw this, Blake would have the same fate as his father had. He didn't want that, he didn't want to die. Not yet. He instead broke out in a run, half running half falling down the hill till he hit the stone path at the foot of the hill. Then he ran at full speed out of the gate of Bree, running towards the woods. He didn't pause, he didn't slow his pace, he just ran till Bree was so far behind him that he couldn't even see the glow of the town.
Then he collapsed onto the floor of the forest, his legs giving out from under him. Guilt, pain, sorrow, anger, hatred, they all flowed through his stomach as he laid there. What had he become, how was he someone so cruel and hateful that he'd kill a man for insulting him? That he would watch his mother be carried off in her death and just feel a cold emptiness? How did he turn into this?
Tears escaped Blake's eyes finally, not in gentle streams but in full sobs. His stomach twisting inside of him as his face pressed against the dirt. The dirt clung to his face, stuck in his dark hair, and even covered his hands. It was several hours till he ran out of tears to cry, strength to keep his eyes open, everything. He was alone in the bottom of the woods, pain and exhaustion sweeping him to sleep. Emptiness dragging him down to a slumber.
When Blake's eyes blinked open, he felt the a warm cloth wipe his face. He lifted his head to see a little girl sitting nearby him with her legs curled under her and her arms stretched out with a warm cloth clutched in her little hands. She stared at him as he woke with green eyes that seemed to take up most of her petite features. Her hair gently combed back in a bun, though some dark ringlets still lining her face. So much beauty in the little girl. It was almost as if her beauty and her general love radiated out around Blake. Silence lingered for quite awhile as the
Blake slowly tried to sit up and tried to find his words, but they caught in his throat. He thought it was best if he decided not to speak for a long time before he finally forced his lips to smile as he said to the little girl, "Thank you."
She leaned back on her knees and simply nodded, but didn't speak.
The silence fell again with just the sound of birds twittering in the forest. He then spoke again, "What's your name?"
"Nimeway!" Blake could hear a woman call out in the distance. The little girl looked away from Blake before quickly stumbling to her feet and running off without another word. The warmth of air around Blake seemed to fade almost immediately despite the fact that the campfire was still there. With the fact that he was now alone.
His coldness returned to him in a flood of overwhelming sorrow. And he was alone, feeling the pain of abandonment for the second time in his life. Though this time he couldn't even go back to Bree. He didn't even have his home town, he just had to stand up and wander into the woods and find somewhere else. Find someone else to love him. Find some place else to call home.
The Little Girl
By abstract.desktopnexus
