My Liberty Dearer

By Alexandra Paynter

This was a pre-Kathardous story, so if there are any similarities, it's because they were all hashed out here. If you like, I'll put up the stuff I've done, but for the time being

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Chapter one: Awakening

Bryan opened his eyes. This, on any other morning, any other year or any other day but today wouldn't have surprised him, but today it did. He couldn't say why, or how, but he knew that it wasn't right. Something wasn't right about the way that he was a live. He didn't know what was going on. .

He lay where he was, not moving. For some reason he couldn't move. He didn't want to move, as he could feel that something bad would happen if he did, but he couldn't feel where he was laying. Oh, he could feel it, but he couldn't tell if it was soft or hard, cold or warm. He couldn't see it either, his eyes saw nothing but blackness, even though he could feel a light glaring down at him.

The heat almost burned his skin, but it kept on changing where it was. One second it burned left of him, the next it was over his face. He tried to turn his head away from the heat, but it was no use. It got closer, as if examining him. Then it quickly withdrew itself and seemed to disappear.

Bryan sighed. His armed were pinned down at his side, his legs locked rigidly parallel of each other. He hadn't really felt any reason to move before now, but he tried. He started to try to move his fingers. For some reason, part of him was saying, "You're dead. You should be dead. What is going on?" Bryan ignored the voice, and, although he couldn't see his hand, he tried to move the fingers. They were locked tight. He started to panic. This was weird to say the least. He suddenly made a mental check to see if he was breathing. He was. So why couldn't he move? He tried to move his head. It too was locked solid in a position facing upwards. He tried to scream, but his lips didn't move, so it sounded like angry whimpering.

Then a sudden and terrible thought came to him. He wasn't sure if he was Bryan at all. He wasn't even certain if he was a he. He couldn't remember anything except darkness and a loud roaring. A loud roaring that filled his soul with penetrating terror. Then he remembered darkness. More darkness. Darkness punctuated with a feeling of someone playing about with his insides. Or what he presumed where his insides. He breathed heavily. What on earth was going on? Who was he? Where was he? What had happened to him? Questions filled his mind, more than he could even acknowledge as questions. He wanted to scream again. He wanted to never think again, but he had to.

For some reason Bryan could feel the presents of a person looking over him. Or persons. He knew there was more than one person in the room. He want to scream, swear, tell them to let him go, but he couldn't tell them. He let out another whimper, getting angrier. He bared his teeth, snarling at the clouded crowd. He suddenly felt a hand stroking his forehead softly. This made him angrier. He snarled at the hand. It was withdrawn quickly and he could hear the footsteps of the person run away. Then he heard a voice speak. It sounded like it was far away, as if underwater, would be the best way to explain it, but it didn't sound like that. The voice hurt his ears. It wasn't that it was a bad voice, or a loud one, but it made him feel as if his ear drums where about to burst.

" Stop it! Let him go! It's making him panic!"

Then he heard a voice that rather than going through his ears, bypassed them, and penetrated his brain.

*No, he's not ready to wake up. He still can't see and his hearing is still too damaged. Also, he's so aggressive, he'll probably hurt himself. *

He stopped trying to move. He wanted to tell them that he wasn't a monster. He wanted to tell them to let him go. He wanted to tell them to give him his sight back. He wanted to be somewhere else, but he couldn't be. Somehow, even though his memory wasn't working properly, he could tell he couldn't go back to where ever he came from. It was far too late.

"Please, just try to speed up the procedure. I can't stand to see a man like this. Or at least let him go. He needs to be able to move around. He'll go crazy otherwise."

Bryan just lay there, to tired to fight whatever was bonding him. He felt like crying out in fear and frustration, but he couldn't. His bonds, or whatever they where were too tight even to allow his body to move more than breathing. Suddenly he heard a button being pressed, and his body was free. The first thing he did was scream. Scream so loud that the.. People.. Things.. Whatever they were stepped back in fear. Finally, after what seemed like aeons, he stopped.

Breathing heavily, he tried to life his finger. He felt it lift off the table stiffly. He knew for certain it was a table now as it wasn't soft like a bed, but too smooth to be on the floor. He let out a giggle of excitement and sat up. He regretted that almost instantly. He should have been given a hint by the way his finger seemed ridged. He let out a yelp of pain any laid back down on the table carefully. The hand came over to him again and stroked his head. The owner of the hand laughed a little,

"You silly. You shouldn't have got up so fast." She laughed a mirthless, but necessary laugh.

The voice seemed to stop being so abnormal and sounded like a woman's voice. No, a girls voice. It was too high pitched, and although he couldn't remember anything, he had a feeling that no self-respecting woman would say, 'You silly'. He blinked. Still darkness, but somehow he could see shadows and faint dots of light. Now he could move, he could do so many things, but finally he just said,

"Where am I?" It was a cliché, Bryan had to admit, but it had become a cliché for a reason.

"You're in the medical Bay of the south wing of Hinperia." Said the voice. The hand cushioned his head against the hardness of the table.

He coughed. His lungs felt like someone had run them along a hard, rough surface. Because of this he said in a husky voice, "Who are you?"

"My name's Ysabel and you must be Bryan."

"How know. who I am."

"Easy. Because They gave you a new name. Your human name wasn't very nice. Mine wasn't. You can have it back if you like, if you remember it."

Bryan was thoroughly puzzled. Who were they? What was his old name? Why did she talk as if she had lent him something?

"Who am I?" He asked the world in general.

"I dunno. They found you in the trash. I don't get told stuff like that, I've only been here a few Months. If you want to know that you'd have to talk to Eteocles. He's the one who finds humans to raise. He'll have found out as much as possible from government files and stuff, to find out if you're suitable to be raised." She spoke as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

He felt completely confused. He had a suspicion that she wasn't telling him everything she knew. All he wanted to know was, who was he? Also, raised? What on earth was raising? What the hell had they done to him?

'Raise?'

'Oh, it's a little hard to explain, but you should probably know this. You're dead officially. All I know is that you died in a road accident.'

'What the hell?' He sat up slowly. His hand homed in on the heat of a human body. He squeezed whatever he was touching and said, 'I'm dead? I can't be dead.'

'You are' said the voice of Ysabel, 'You can't remember can you? They had to redesign your brain, so some of your memory will have been lost.'

'What! What gives you the right to fiddle around in my mind!' He grabbed her with his other hand and at almost crushing strength, he gripped her, shaking the small frame. She screamed out in pain as he shouted, 'I'M NOT DEAD! GIVE ME BACK MY LIFE YOU.'

He felt himself flip over and hit the ground in extreme pain. The walls had been padded, but he could feel his body hit through to the floorboards. He let out a low moan of pain and both of them breathed heavily, panicky of what would happen next. He heard the scuffle of feet and heavy breathing.

They both stayed where they were for a long while until finally, Ysabel said, 'I'm sorry.'

He heard a door open and shut and running footstep mixed with sobs down a hall.

'WAIT!' he shouted, but the girl, Ysabel had run off. He tried to stand up, but his whole body shock, as if he had just got the flu. He lay back on the floor and waited for something to happen, a flicker of light, a sound or just the sound of movement, but the place was still, as if their was nobody there. The more he waited, the more tired he got, until he finally fell asleep.

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Bryan blinked. His dreams hadn't been nice. They had involved loud roaring and bright lights and screaming. He recognised the scream, even if he didn't remember who's it was. He suddenly realised that there was a light just above him. He had fallen asleep next to a low table. He struggled to sit up and grappled onto the table. He couldn't see clearly, as if he was seeing underwater. His eyes stung like smoke was being blown into them. He closed his eyes and blinked again.

Too painful. The light, although dim, was painful. He let out a low moan of pain as he pulled himself back onto the table. The padded floor felt like felt, or velvet. He, after a few tries managed to get his chest onto the table.

He felt as if he was being squashed, as if he couldn't breathe! He panicked at slide back onto his back on the floor. He didn't want to open his eyes. It was far too painful, like chlorine stinging his eyes. Finally, after a very long thirty-six seconds he opened his eyes. His eyes watered as he looked around the room. The door was also padded, as far as he could tell through the tears and mere pain, and the table was nothing more than a slab of rock which had been sanded down and placed on four metal posts.

He suddenly heard a click in the door lock. He crawled as fast as possible to the corner of the room.

In came a figure with a tray. Bryan peered at him. He was quiet muscular and wore a tight black T-shirt, letting his muscles show through the shirt. He could see vaguely the mass of dread locks that hung over his face. Bryan shut his eyes again. They felt as if they were on fire.

'How's it Bryan?' the man asked cheerily.

'Who are you?' he asked, backing further into his corner holding his hands over his face.

'My name's Bentley. I already know your name.'

'What the hell's going on?'

'What? Yis didn't explain things?' the man seemed genuinely surprised.

'Yis?'

'Ysabel. I call her that. It's kinda a nickname.'

'She didn't tell me what's going on! She told me that I'm actually dead, even though I'm not and that someone's being mucking around with me.'

'Ah,' the man seemed to smile and realise something, 'Typical Ysabel. Tells the facts, but she hasn't got a good bedside manner.'

'What! What the hell is goin' on!' Bryan growled.

'Hey, hey, hey, calm down Bryan, I'll try my best to explain, but first, you should eat something.' Bentley scooped something out of the tray. 'Just try this. It tastes a bit like chicken.'

Bryan tried to open his eyes again, but he couldn't. He let out a yelp of pain.

'Is it the eyes?' asked Bentley concerned, 'My eyes hurt to for a while, after I was raised.'

'Raised, what is raising!'

'It's when they give you life Bryan.' Said Bentley like this was a wonderful peace of news, 'It's when they take your body, and they put life back into it.'

'That's rubbish! Only God can give life!' said Bryan defiantly.

'Well, at least your memory is getting better. Yis said that you couldn't remember a thing.'

'I CAN'T!' Bryan whimpered, 'All I remember if a loud roaring and bright lights and screaming.'

'And God.' Added Bentley.

'Yes, NO! I don't know what that was all about. I don't even know what God is!'

'No one does Bryan.'

'I mean what the actually name is! Is it a person, or a thing, or a feeling? I don't know!' He curled his hands into balls and rubbed them against his temples. He placed them over his eyes and kept them there, rocking slightly.

'Bryan, I think you should try opening your eyes.' Said Bentley after a while.

'I tried, and it hurt.' Whispered Bryan.

'Well, If you're not ready, maybe I should leave you until you're ready.' He left the tray on the floor and closed the door, the lock clicking again.

Bryan sat with his knees upto his chest, his arms curled loosely around his legs. He felt like crying. His eyes stung like crazy and he felt like he was covered in dirt. He also didn't know what was going on. He couldn't even stand up. He felt like a burden, useless and demanding. He fell asleep again, not wanting to think any more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bryan woke up again. He blinked. His eyes stung far less now, and the room started to swim into focus .The brief glimpse of the room showed him that the walls were a dirty faded mint green, and they were indeed padded. They looked like someone had covered the walls with the material of old armchairs. He felt the ground and tried to get up. His legs failed him and he fell to the floor. He hit his head.

He screamed. The pain was intense, and only over such a small area. Bryan couldn't remember feeling so much pain. Bryan couldn't remember much at all. The pain went from intense to a low throbbing. He could deal with that. He lay there, nursing his head. He breathed in through a gap in his teeth and breathed out through his mouth.

He had another look around the room. The door was padded, but it has bars across the window. Behind the bars, as best as he could see was a kind of brown darkness and a light bulb. He let the light from his own bulb shine onto the table as he tried to get up again. He stood up, but felt unstable, like a stool with only two legs.

He heard footsteps coming down the corridor. He instantly fell to the floor and crawled like an ape to a corner.

The lock clicked yet again in the door and squeaked open. He covered into the corner. All he could see was a hand. It was thin, but gloved. The glove was black, but it was more lace than actual glove. It played in spirals over the skin, the skin that was almost white to extreme. Then the long arm, still engloved followed through the door. Then, when the glove had finished, it showed nothing but a little forearm. Then he saw the rest of the body.

It was a girl's body. She couldn't be much over twelve, if twelve at all. She wore a tight black vest top, and large, flared, baggy jeans, and a cross, made of silver hung over her chest.

She had tightly platted gold brown hair, tied with black ribbons. She was thin. Thin in a way that was less thin, than skeletal. She was flat chested, but with just two lumps just showing up. She had long arms and a long, white neck. He followed it up to her round face. She had freckles blemishing the sheet white skin. Her lips were light pink with a healthy glow, but her face was virgin of make up. She did have bags under her eyes, which suggested that she had been subjected to a few late nights.

She had a white tray in her hands. The pout was replaced with a fleeting smile. She put the tray down on the table and walked over to him. Bryan didn't cower. He watched the strange girl. She turned around. She looked at him for a moment, then said, 'Hey, Bryan.'

She lent over him and he lent back. Who was she? The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it. Who was this girl? He tried to keep out of her touch.

' Bry', what's up with you? It's just me, Ysabel.' She stroked his cheek with her finger. The action was gentle, light, but cold and ticklish. He brought his shoulder in front of his face and cowered back. Ysabel sighed and went to the table. She got the tray and knelt down on the floor.

'Come on, how's your sight now?'

'I can see.' He said simply.

'Do you want to eat something?' she asked. Then she put a spoon into some of the white gunk. She scooped it up and let it drop down several times, watching it intently. Bryan watched it to, but he felt repelled.

'Maybe not.'

She let a smile cross her lips again and put the spoon down. 'Kay Bry', you remember anything yet?'

'No,' he said, waving his hand to remove all evil thoughts, 'Just screaming, and lights and roaring.'

Ysabel played a little with her necklace. He held out his hand, trying to touch it. She shrank back, aghast.

'What the hell do you think you're doing you perv!' She shouted.

'I.I.. I.I' He stuttered.

'Don't you dare you git!'

'I.I.I' he tried to get the words out, then he shouted, 'What's that?'

'What?'

'Around your neck, what is it?'

She looked down and played with the cross. 'What?' she said more urgently.

'In your finger. Look' He pointed at the cross. She suddenly realised what he was looking at and laughed, 'Oh, that's just a cross.'

'Cro-oss?' he asked.

'Oh it's something of religious importance to us. You'll probably understand when you've got your memory back. ' She walked towards him and rocked down onto her knees.

'Can I,' he lent towards her as if he were about to impart a dreadful secret, 'Can I touch it?'

'Yeah.' She said cheerily, 'You can have it if you want. I've got at least six.' She felt around her neck and undid the clasp. He held out his hand and held out his neck for her to put it around. She was about to do so when she stopped, an inch from his neck. She looked puzzled and rocked back onto her haunches.

'What?' he asked.

'Bryan, you're already wearing one.' He felt around his neck, and she was right. It was simple, little more than two bits of metal glued together and put in a cross-position, but he wore it. It was silver or more precisely silver metal as he found out later.

He grabbed it. Ysabel lent forward, and said, 'Do you want me to take it off for you?'

He nodded. She let the gloved hands feel their way around the neck, rubbing it to feel for the clasp. When she found it she undid it and gave it to her, holding it by the chain. The silver cross fell into his hand with a very small chink of metal upon metal. The chain folded itself into a pillow for the cross as it lay on his hand. He looked at it, bringing it closer to his face, studying it. Then, without any warning he clenched his hand into a fist ands looked at Ysabel.

'Ysabel, why can't I remember anything but the roaring and screaming?'

'That was probably the last thing to happen to you from the accident.' explained Ysabel, 'When I first came round all I could remember was a tightness around my throat and a taunting sound. And pain,' as an after thought she added,' lots of pain.'

Bryan didn't want to continue it. He motioned towards the tray and she gave it to him. He grabbed the spoon and tried to get some food onto it. He succeeded and tried putting it into his mouth. It tasted like chalk, but he ate it anyway. He couldn't remember when he had felt this good. The food filled him up from the inside. Ysabel seemed happy that he was eating.

He gave the tray back to her. She put it on the table.

'Is there anything I can get you?' she asked.

'Nah, 'cept something to do.' She smiled, and picking up the tray, left.

Bryan listened to the footsteps going down the hall. Strange, he though, how he never heard any other footsteps but of those who went into his room. He watched the wall for a moment. Nothing had changed, except one thing. He knew that he was safe. He didn't know how he knew this, or felt it, but he felt that they wouldn't have given him food if he was going to be put in danger, or have people like himself turn up to talk to him.

Or Would they? He had no idea where this thought has come from. It wasn't his own. He still felt as weak as a kitten. Then he curled up into a foetal position and began to sleep again. There was nothing for it. It was too much effort to stay awake, but he could feel himself getting stronger as he slept.