Mirage is just a state of Mind

Mirage is just a state of Mind

By: Asha M. Night

Running down the corridor of the mysterious house, Drenaia stumbles before a dark clothed figure. She presses a hand to her mouth and stifles a scream.

"Who are you?" She asks. "Why did you bring me here?"

She curls into a ball at his feet, shuddering like a leaf.

He leans down upon one knee and reaches a hand out to her. "Do not fear me Drenaia. I will not harm you." The figure speaks.

Her broken, bloody and bruised body quivers beneath his touch as he moves to touch her face. She pulls back from his touch. Expecting a retaliation as she'd known in her old home.

"Don't touch me," she says in a whisper, fearing the worst from him.

"I'm not going to harm you. Nor will any one ever have the chance again. You are safe with me," he whispers, drawing in her scent.

"You work for my father don't you?" she presses, scooting further and further from him. He steps closer holding up his hands as if you would to a wounded animal.

"No I don't, but I'm someone who has your better interests in mind. I promise that if you'll let me see to those wounds, I'll be gentle. I swear on all things that lurk in the night and in your nightmares. I know what you've been through and had seen to your exodus of your old life. I only ask that you cooperate and let me in."

She watches as he inches closer and closer. "Stay away from me, she whispers. I never asked for this, I never asked for any of this." She repeats over and over.

"I know, I know. But that is why I came to your rescue. I knew of the atrocities that you faced and saw that you needed relief."

Drenaia's guard slowly comes down, she's curious as to his motive.

'Yes, come to me Drenaia,' he thinks to himself, watching as she crawls to his feet. She rests her cheek against his patent leather shoe. He bends down and strokes her auburn hair.

"Yes Drenaia, yes." He whispers and takes her hand, helping her to her feet. "All your worries are gone and you need not worry about any troubles haunting your dreams."

Drenaia bushes a hand over his black silk shirt and nuzzles against him.

"I cannot believe you are giving in so easily," he says honestly.

"For some odd reason, I feel safe with you." She replies, looking up into his blue eyes and rubs her cheek against him.

"What has happened to my father?" she questions, remembering a comment he'd made only moments before about her worries being gone.

"Do not worry. All your troubles are gone and you will not need to worry."

"But what happened to him? I want to know," she presses, both with her words and her hand.

"Stay calm Drenaia. It's nothing of concern and you need to rest. I have a bed all ready set up for you. You will be seated across from me in the hall. My servants will take care of all your needs." He assures her and guides her further down the corridor she'd just come running down.

"Is there a reason you brought me here?" she asks, feeling his hand press against her lower back.

"Yes." He replies. "I brought you here to protect you. There are still those who would harm you left in the world. I cannot allow that to happen to you. I'd hate to see more violence touch your beautiful fair skin. I only pray those bruises are not too serious. I'll send in someone to look at your wounds and do not worry about it. You need to be seen about. That black eye is surely darkening, you might be careful as to how it is treated. It's coloring isn't looking right. You might have some broken bones."

"You care?" she asks, his hand turns the crystal knob of her new room.

"Why wouldn't I?" he replies, ushering her into the bare room.

"I'm sorry it is not better furnished, it's just, I haven't entertained guests in a very long time." He guides her seat upon the bed.

"How long?" she presses, knowing that there must be a story behind such words.

"You would care more not to know. Trust me when I say such things. You would take care as to heed my words." He turns and leaves her in darkness. She climbs off of the bed and finds the light switch and hears a knock at her door.

"Ms. Drenaia." The voice calls into the room.

"Yes, who is it?"

"The name's Cheryl. I was asked to check up on you. I was told you have some bruises and such that need to be taken care of." She steps into the room carrying an ancient looking bowl and a few rags.

"Yes. Oh please come in. Uh, I think that I might be bleeding somewhere. I'm not sure."

"Well don't worry, we'll find out now won't we." She sets the bowl down upon the bedside table and sets her sights on the black bruise on her right eye. She lifts her hand to touch the area, Drenaia pulls away.

"Now I need to take a look at it. I think one of your facial bones might have been either cracked or broken. Now please, hold still." She reaches up again in hopes of feeling the bone beneath her eyebrow.

Tiny hisses come from Drenaia's lips.

"Calm down. Now I want you to take a deep breath and count to ten."

"It's broken, isn't it?" she asks, tears fall onto her ripped night shift.

"Calm down and yes, yes it is. It will heal. Don't worry, bones heal." She dips a rag into the water and presses it to Drenaia's split lip. She dips the bloody rag into the water and touches Drenaia's chin, moving it from side to side, examining the damage.

"Careful, your jaw is going to be quite sore for the next week or so. Do not worry, it is only bruised. Well, deeply bruised to be exact. It will heal with time just as your ophthalmic bone will heal to. Just be careful and I'd suggest that you decide to stay here for a while. You need to take care and rest. Your eye will heal much faster if you rest."

"You know, I really do not have anywhere I can go right now. Besides, if I try to go back, I'll probably be killed." She sighs and turns away as Cheryl presses the rag back against her lip.

"Shall I be setting a place for you at the dinner table?" she asks, a tiny glint twinkles in her eyes.

"I guess. I know that I'm as safe here as anywhere else."

"Well that's good. Now I might want to warn you about the rules."

"Rules?" Drenaia asks.

"Yes. Of course there are rules here. I'm sure you had them at your home. I probably shouldn't talk about that," she places her hand to her lips and continues on, "Well, Master Dmitri has his own rules that all who serve in under him must follow."

"What, I'm considered a servant?" she asks outraged, "I thought I was his guest."

"You are," she replies, "It's just you too must follow the rules. Do not start complaining. You haven't heard what I have to say." She pauses, watching Drenaia as she nods her head. "There are certain rooms in the house that must never be entered unless you are instructed by the master himself. His private bedchamber is off-limits, if a door is closed, then there is probably a reason. I'll show you where the kitchen is and where the den is. There are at least two dens’ here. One is his private room where he likes to spend his nights."

Drenaia turns away and stares off at the wall. She sees nothing as her mind pours away with thoughts.

"Drenaia, are you okay?" Cheryl asks.

"Yeah, I just need to take a walk. You do not need to worry about me, I just need to clear my head."

"I hope you know that there is a garden out back. You can ask one of the guards here how to get there."

"I think I'm just going to roam the grounds. I'd like to see my new surroundings." Drenaia stands up and rubs her chin; she shudders feeling that it too is bruised.

The door opens as she stands in front of it. She turns around and looks to Cheryl for an explanation. She shakes her shoulders and coils her finger, telling Drenaia to just turn around.

As she walks down the corridor, she sees an armed guard at each two-door interval. She takes notice of their emotionless expressions and skips along as fast as she can manage. In the back of her mind she notes their pale skin and pale pink lips. Curiosity almost burns a hole in her soul and she desires to ask them why they share the same qualities.

She turns left at the edge of the corridor, her eyes shift to an empty fireplace. A white fur rug and to her eyes, she figures that it must be a rare polar bear hide. Tiny tears glisten in her eyes as she mourns the innocent's death. 'How could someone be so cruel as to kill an animal just for something so trivial?' Her thoughts take most of her attention, she does not hear the light footsteps as they stop in behind of her.

"Ahem," she hears. She nearly jumps out of her skin.

"Calm down," Master Dmitri replies, placing a hand upon her shoulder. She places hers above his and turns around to face him. Her face holds a grim expression. He knows that she is still fearful that her life will be reborn and she'll be dropped back into hell.

"I hope you know, I do not intend to hurt you. You are safe here. I promise you this." He tells her and touches her split lip. Blood forms on the surface and he uses his finger to wipe it away.

"Drenaia, I only wish I could have delivered you from such pain much sooner. Had I'd known about your treatment, I would have come at the first signs years ago."

"How do you know me? Well, knew of my predicament?" she pauses for a moment and continues, "I lived in fear of my life being found out. I knew that the moment someone found out and called the cops, that I was surely dead." Sobs pour from her lips and Dmitri pulls her close.

He guides her outdoors to the garden. Drenaia takes notice of the moonlight and sees jasmine blossoming. "How did you know that I wanted to visit the garden?" she asks quizzical.

"Cheryl told me. I went to check on you and found that you'd left. My maid told me, as she was filling your dressers and closets with the clothes that I've sent for, that you'd went in search of the garden and that you wanted to be alone."

"And what did you tell her?" she asks.

"Well, I said that is not necessary and that I'd surprise you." He smiles and slips his arm around her, guiding her to a marble bench.

"Why would you want to do that?" she asks worried, noticing the tenderness of his touch.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you allow me to get closer." He whispers into her ear and kisses her hair.

"Please, don't," she mouths, trying to pull away.

"I'm going to turn in," she says standing. 'I cannot take this attention,' she thinks to herself. She remembers the attention her fathers' friends gave her. The snide remarks; the romantic gestures and then she is reminded of the times she'd turn down their offers and passes. How they'd take their frustration out on her.

Her faces carries the scars of her past. Long, slim scars cover her face; mainly her cheeks had been affected. Her cheeks were their favorite target. She once thought that there'd been a pool for who could break her face.

Usually, it was once a week that she'd make a visit to the hospital. Making sure the lacerations were healing properly. For years she'd beg the nurses not to report her father and his friends. She'd even once decided to confide what had been done to her and how her father while either in a drunken rage would beat her and toss her to his friends to mess with her or the same effect would happen if he was in an anger inspired fit.

From behind her she hears boots scraping against the stones of path. She feels arms enclose around her and she turns around in the grasp and pushes away. She stumbles to the ground and notices in the moonlight that she is bleeding. She knows that she isn't the only one who noticed. Dmitri falls to one knee and takes her right calf into his hands.

"This isn't fresh," he tells her, running his hand over the surrounding flesh.

"Why didn't you have this looked at?" he questions and his grip grows tighter.

Fear rises within her and she stares wide-eyed at him. Her gaze resembles that of a rabbit shuddering in the bushes before it is snatched up by a wildcat.

She pulls at her leg and tries to scoot from his grasp.

"Let me go," she whimpers, reminded of her past. "Please, I thought you had supposedly rescued me from this fear," she tells him, reminding him of his vow.

"I had, but how did you not notice this?" he asks gruffly. He tugs on her leg and pulls her closer.

"Drenaia, this is something serious," she is pulled even closer as he takes a look at the bruises covering her face and presses two fingers to her eyebrow, which is turning black. She flinches, pushes at his chest and screams. She is released from his grip.

She crawls upon the ground towards the door. Her hands scrape roughly against the concrete stones. Tears fall upon her cheeks and her eyebrow aches from the tension.

"Leave me alone," she calls in behind her and finds herself hoisted into the air. She bangs her fists against his back and cries to anyone who can hear her screams as she is taken inside to his chamber.

"I thought that this was off-limits," she says, still banging on his back.

"Do you mind?" he asks, tossing her upon his black satin comforter. Candlelight illuminates the room.

"Please, my back is not a punching bag. And I need to cleanse that wound upon your leg. Who knows what else you are hiding?" He mutters and seats down beside her.

Her eyes go wide as she lies still as he lifts the skirt of her shift. Tiny blood trails run down her leg.

"Drenaia, this is something that you should have noticed," he mutters and screams for Cheryl to bring a water bowl and bandages. He then turns his attention back to Drenaia.

Her form shudders as she watches his hands move higher, exposing more skin. Flashes of her fathers friends cross her mind.

'No,' the internal image of Drenaia screams.

She remembers the night one of her fathers younger friends tried to force her to sleep with him.

The croons he'd call to her still haunt her dreams and the kindness shown by Dmitri isn't helping her fear.

Dmitri presses a hand to her wrist and brings her from her reverie.

Drenaia screams and tries to pull away once more as she tries to come to terms with her fear of men.

"Drenaia," he says gruffly, sick of her fear already. "Calm down, do not make me slap you."

"I cannot help my fear," she confides, she does not press on since a knock has come to the door.

"Come in Cheryl," he replies, watching as she walks through the doorway. A silver platter is brought in with a blue bowl of water, rags and bandages.

"Why didn't you take care of this earlier," he asks his maid.

"I forgot to Master. It's just, I thought her bruises and the like were all above the waist."

"Well I guess I'm going to need to check out the rest of her broken body." His voice is sharp; he knows that Drenaia is going to show resistance.

Drenaia opens her mouth to try and protest; but Dmitri puts a finger to her lips. "Hush," he tells her. He gestures for Cheryl to leave the room.

"Drenaia, I swear, I will break your fear and you will not fight me on this." He touches her face lightly and dips a rag into the water. He wipes it across the wound upon her leg and lets his gaze scroll up her leg; noticing numerous dark and green bruises covering her legs. He is almost frightful to see what had been done to her stomach.

"Don't," she mouths, knowing that he will see more damage.

His hands move higher, exposing her stomach. Drenaia gasps and fears that she will see as well damage that she had not noticed before.

Upon her stomach lies bruises, small gashes and scars.

Dmitri's eyes go wide as he notices the scars that cover her stomach. "How did this happen?" he asks.

"The guys loved to hold me down and cut me through my shirts and would beat me when they wouldn't get their way." She explains and tries to push down upon the cloth.

Dmitri sighs and wipes the blood from her stomach and traces the scars upon her stomach. His hand rest upon the gauze and tape and he looks up at her face. 'So many scars', he thinks to himself, 'Such monsters to do such a thing to an innocent.'

He quickly tapes up her wounds and covers her in hopes of saving what left she has of her dignity.

"Do you mind?" he asks, placing a hand upon her shoulder to lower the top half of her shift.

"Please, no," she replies. Innocence shines through, as does her fear.

"Drenaia, I need to check to see if you have anymore wounds. I do not think that you have any upon your back or I would have checked. Please do not force me to pull it down myself."

Drenaia removes the side of her shift and watches his eyes as they fall upon her scarred breasts and finds no blood.

"I'm so sorry," he tells her, as he watches her slip off of the bed and stands in front of the door.

"Don't be, you cannot take back the past. You know, they used to tell me that I brought it upon myself. But what I never understood was, what I had done to deserve their torture." She takes a look back at him before stepping into the hallway. She makes her way to one of the said dens and presses on the door.

Inside she finds a soft light permeating the darkness of the room. Books of numerous subjects line the walls and she steps to a bookshelf with titles on religion. She pulls down a title on Exorcism.

She finds herself seating upon a sofa facing the black curtained window. She curls up on a cushion and flinches as she moves her bandages. She flips the book open to page one and reads the index.

Chapter 1- Identifying the Possessed. Chapter 2- Options of Exorcism and the list goes on and on.

"Why would he have such a title here?" she asks herself silently. She skitters back to her room, slips the title beneath her pillow and lies in silence until Morpheus comes to tuck her in for the night. She whispers silently a thank you and slips into dreams.

Her dreams are filled with images of this morning.

Drenaia is lying in her bed and she hears a knock come to her door. She sits up in bed, she pulls the sheet up to her chin.

She recognizes the face, it's Jae. She figures that he is coming in as usual to take advantage of her. He seats down beside her and strokes her face. "Ah, Drenaia, you look so scared." He croons and inches closer to her shuddering body. "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her and pulls her to lie across his lap.

"Jae, what are you doing here?" she asks frightened.

"I came to see you silly," he replies, sending waves of fear to roll through her body.

"I'm not who you want to see," she replies, wishing that she could pass from this existence. Her soul is sick of this pain and torture.

She awakes just as he leans into her mouth.

She sits up stark still and turns to the doorway. Dmitri stands in the light of a candle in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" she questions and scoots to rest near the wall of her room.

"Calm down, I figured that you might want someone here when you wake up. I saw Morpheus leave not too long ago. Would you like someone to guard your dreams?" He asks knowing that she'd just had a nightmare.

"No, I'll be fine. Besides, it's impossible for you to guard my dreams. How am I to know that you will not do the same and try and take advantage of me? I know that I'm innocent, well as far as I can be. I only wish that I could leave or just die. I don't really think that there is anything left here in the world for me. I'm lost without my guide, she left when I was born."

"Your guide?" he asks, stepping into the room.

"Yeah, I had a guide, someone to protect me I guess. My mother died when I was born. Complications I've been told. But you know I really think that it might have been my father trying to cover up his brutality. You killed him didn't you?" She asks, knowing that is probably what he meant earlier.

"Yes, I did. But it was for a good reason. It was either kill him or you would end up dead one morning. I didn't want to allow that to happen to you." He seats down beside her and rests the candle upon the dresser. He pulls her to rest against him.

"I'll be fine," she protests and slips off of the bed. She finds a robe that Cheryl had left for her when she set up the room. Dmitri does not follow her as she ventures into his personal den.

His hands slip beneath her pillow and he fishes out the book she'd taken with her earlier. "Curious, now aren't we?" he chuckles to himself.

She scrolls along the private titles and pulls down one entitled, The Vampyre Within.

She flips it open to a random page and finds an 18th century painting of a vampyre and her meal. She flips again and finds a page telling about how a vampyre can be created. Then it hits her, 'Could he possible be one? Or maybe he thinks that he is one?'

She doesn't hear him when he comes in.

"I thought Cheryl had told you the rules," he announces his presence.

"Huh?" she replies and turns around. Tiny breaks of sunlight come through holes in his curtains.

"I can see that the temptation overcame you. There is another den you know, I can show you where it is.” He steps to stand behind her.

“I know where it is at. I guess I must have lost my way. I thought it was here. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any disconcertion. I’ll leave now.” She stands up and tries to make her way to the door.

“Now don’t leave so quickly. I didn’t say that you weren’t welcome here. I just thought that you knew the rules and would steadfast to them.” he presses a hand to her shoulder. “Do not be afraid,” he whispers.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” she replies. “You claim to be one thing, but yet, believe yourself to be something else.”

“Now what is it I’ve claimed to be?” he asks, taking a step forward. He is less than a foot from her back. She feels his breath upon her hair.

“I saw your book on Vampirism. If you truly are one, why do you pretend to be human?” She asks, turning around and shoves the book into his chest.

“I never said I was one and why do you say such things?”

“Do not deny it, Dmitri. You know such a name should have clued me in. And the book, what’s going on? Are you having an identity crisis or something? Why pretend?”

“You know Drenaia, I might be fascinated with vampyres you know. Who’s to say that I am one?”

“Then what is the deal with the separate dens and your private bedroom? What if I decided to come in there one night? Haven’t you ever heard of night terrors?”

“Oh Drenaia, you are truly welcome in my bedroom. You could sleep in there if that is what you desire. I never said that you could not. Those rules were instituted so I could have some privacy. A man needs his privacy.”

“So you aren’t a vampyre?” She asks, letting her head fall back exposing her bruised throat.

“So tempting,” he jokes and pulls her close. Her chest pressed against his. His lips lightly caress her throat.

She pushes her hands against his chest. “Hey, what’s going on here?” she asks, wondering if he’s playing with her.

“I’m only kidding Drenaia.” He whispers and kisses her lightly upon the throat again.

“Why do you toy with me Dmitri?” she inquires. “This is not what I’ve asked of you. So please, tell me the truth. Why do you have the book?”

“It’s a personal reason. I’d tell you, but I’m quite sure you might run away. It’s a personal thing and I’d like to keep it that way please?” he asks, pushing her away for a moment to look deep into her eyes.

“I do not know what to say. And then I must say this, why toy with me when you will not tell me the truth? I promise, I will not run away. I swear it to you upon the event of my death.”

“You shall find out the truth in due time. I promise you that. You will find out. And please, do not start asking my help how old I am. I’ll advise them not to disclose that information. You need to find this out yourself.”

“You are evil. I’ll see you some other time. I think that I should finally get some real sleep. I’ll trust that I will not find you in my bed?”

“Only if you promise not to call out my name in your sleep?”

“I promise.” She says with her fingers crossed behind her back. “I promise,” she repeats.

“So we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she replies and slinks away to her room. She finds that the room is just as she’d left it, but another presence resides in the walls. Almost as if it were falling from the ceiling.

She crawls into the bed and lets her head hit the pillow.

“Why?” she asks the silence. “Why father, why did you have to damn me in this life?” She expects no answer, but wishes she could have closure and a meaning.

She slips into dreams again, unaided by Morpheus this time. But regrets sleeping alone. “Why?” she asks herself. “Maybe if you had him near you, you might actually feel protected.”

She shudders awake as the morning rays peek through the curtains. She hears a knock at the door and watches as Cheryl walks in.

“Well isn’t it sleepyhead?” she asks grinning. “I hope you know that slept a whole day away.” She sets a tray of food upon her lap. “Well I’ve prepared a bath for you. I hope that you find that it suits your preference. And Master Dmitri has advised me to not answer a question, which I know is on the tip of your tongue. I respect his wishes and will adhere to them. Do not even try to persuade me. I will not tell you.”

Drenaia looks down at the food. She figures that it is simple oatmeal and pure cane sugar and milk.

“Dmitri advised me that you might want something simple. Too much might hurt you and this is healthy. Your body will not have to work hard on trying to process this.”

“Thank you Cheryl. Why did you let me sleep for a whole day?” she asks, not understanding why.

“Well, there wasn’t much we could do. We tried to wake you, but you just slept through our propositions and seductions. The seductions were Dmitri’s idea. But I guess it’s about time he’s tried to seduce someone. It’s been a while.” She winks at Drenaia.

“Don’t look at me like that. I never agreed to play victim to his desires.”

“No when did I ever say that?” Cheryl asks.

“Do you maybe mind in not joking with me? I’m still reeling from the shock of being ‘Free’. I guess that is what you can maybe call it. Even though I am still not completely free. It’s only a state of mind you know, and I doubt I shall ever feel completely free.”

“Drenaia, as you said, it is all in your head. If you desire to be free, you will be free. But, it’s a decision. Make it and you will then know what it is you are missing.” Cheryl stands and leaves the room on that note.

Drenaia looks down at her food and decides that she is no longer hungry. The food had become cold and it did not suit her pallet. She figured that since she no longer had to deal with her father’s shit, she wouldn’t settle for cold food.

Never minding the fact that she might go hungry, she decides to

don a gown that had been left in a drawer for her. She pulls it out and

changes quickly.

The gown is low cut and has a lace bodice. She slips on a pair of

silken slippers and leaves the room. The tray of food lies atop the

bed. She pays no attention as Dmitri’s gaze follows her out the

garden door.

She finds herself sitting upon the bench that they’d shared two

days ago.

‘I wonder,’ she thinks to herself, ‘What would happen if I actually let him into my heart?’

At that thought, Dmitri comes through the garden door and she notices a shadow is cast in her direction.

She turns around to find what had caused the shadow upon the sun.

“Oh it’s you,” she tells him.

“That is truly a nice way to address your savior.” He jokes and takes a seat next to her.

“Whatever,” she replies and reaches down to the grass and breaks a few grass blades off in her hands.

“You know, this use to be me. But now, I don’t even know what I am. What it is I have?”

“I know what you have,” he replies cryptically.

“Oh really,” she replies.

“Yes, you were once able to hold love in your heart, but you feel now, that your heart has died. It’s truly understandable you know. Your situation was horrible. You were beaten and your spirit broken.

You are not to blame for the way you are feeling and it’s a choice that you can make to cure that disease.”

Drenaia looks up at him, “That is not possible,” she replies and let’s her head fall into her hands. She shakes her head no as he tries to say more.

“You do not get it,” she replies looking up, “you cannot understandwhat is holding me back. You can never, I don’t care if you possibly have the ability to read minds. I’m an empty shell and I don’t think that this is ever going to change. I want to love you, or even believe that I can, but it’s not possible. It’s not,” she tells him and lets her eyes fall upon the now burning horizon.

In the rays of the setting sun, her tears look as if they are burning upon her cheeks. Dmitri does not even bother to try and wipe them away.

Drenaia stands and walks to her room. She passes guards and presses her door in. She curls upon her bed and hugs her knees to her chest.

Cheryl walks in and places a hand upon her shoulder.

Drenaia shudders and looks up to find her standing at her bedside.

“Are you all right,” she asks first, her mind on other thoughts.

“I don’t really know. But could you please do me a favor? I’m hungry and I do not really feel like walking into the kitchen.

“I would but, Master Dmitri has asked that I escort you to the great room. Do not ask, I only do as I am told. Do not fight me please,” she pleads.

“I’ll go with you. I just wish that I knew what was going on.”

She climbs off of the bed and finds that a blindfold is placed over her eyes.

“What is this?” she asks and sniffs the air.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks.

“Just calm down,” she hears Dmitri’s voice. He takes her hand and helps her to seat before the fire. He removes the blindfold and she winces at both the light and the vision that lay before her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, seeing tears well into her eyes.

“It’s just so beautiful. No one has ever cared for me so much.”

“It’s about time that you are able to put the past behind you.” He helps her to sit and reveals two meals set before them.

“I hope you enjoy this,” he tells her in a whispered voice and pours her a glass of wine.

She sips lightly, afraid that the demure of this night will end.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asks, referring to their earlier talk.

“I can honestly say no. If you know of a way that you can make me forget my past.”

“Drenaia, if I knew of a way I could, I seriously would. Just enjoy the meal and we can begin to take this one day at a time.” He tells her and watches as time passes by slowly.

The wine slowly eases at her head and her eyelids begin to droop.

Dmitri carries her to his room and lies her upon his bed. She falls instantly asleep and does not notice that she is slowly being stripped of her clothes.

She awakes nude and looks over at Dmitri. Her mouth forms an O and she looks down at her flesh.

“Nothing happened last night, right?” she asks. “Did it?”

“No, I just removed your clothes. I only thought that you might be

more comfortable, and I didn’t think that you would mind.”

“I don’t,” she replies and tears form into her eyes.

“It’s all right.” He replies.

“Could we please leave the house? I’ve been here for over three days and I have yet to see outside it’s perimeter. I want to see the world through new eyes.”

“We can, but I was thinking last night. I know this might sound unorthodox, but I believe that you need to be taught self-defense. I’m serious and I don’t really know how many of your father’s men are alive and know that you are too. This is only for your health.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asks and signals for him to turn his head.

“Drenaia, I’ve already seen you naked, you need not hide it.”

“But I still have my dignity.” She replies and grabs his robe from his doorknob.

“I thought that I could teach you how to fight with a knife first.” He turns around watches as she ties the robe together.

He pulls down two knives from a bedside rack. He hands a streamlined blade to Drenaia and lies his upon the bed.

He places a hand upon her left wrist and holds it firmly to show her how to hold the blade. “Do not let your wrist be broken, if you do. You’re dead.” He places a hand upon her hip and pulls her into a fighting stance.

“Are you sure that this is going to save me?” she asks a bit worried.

“Yes and now I’m going to show you how to strike.” He steps in front of her and tells her to step forward. “Now lunge,” he tells her and moves to the side, escaping her blade.

“Come again,” he tells her and pulls away as she makes swipes at him. He catches her wrist and pulls it to her side. Drenaia gasps and looks up at his ice eyes.

“Don’t hurt me,” she pleads and he releases her.

“I promise I will not,” he says and grabs her knife.

“I think that you might want to move on from here,” he replies, “Now I’m going to come at you with the knife. I want you to let your instincts take over. It’s not hard, just let go.”

She closes her eyes for a moment and watches as he makes a swipe at her chest. She dodges the blade and quickly reaches for his wrist and plunges the blade into his chest.

Drenaia gasps and looks down at the blood upon her hands.

“Dmitri”, she screams. His body falls to the ground and she falls to her knees. “I’m so sorry,” she tells him, stroking his hair.

He removes the blade and places a hand above her heart. “Dmitri,” she says again, "I'm so sorry."

“You did what I asked. I only hope that this single act will help you see that you are now free. Live your life Drenaia. You only have this life. I may no longer be able to protect you, but I hope that this lesson will empower you in ways that you cannot see right now. Do not live in fear. It’s time you take your step into the sunlight. Your fear was only in your mind. I hope that you can see that now.” He says and chokes on the blood filling his mouth.

“Dmitri,” she cries, her tears falling upon his blood soaked chest. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love you and I do not want you to die without knowing that. You saved me from myself and what I’ve lived with for years. I only wish that you wouldn’t die. Please don’t die,” she pleads and watches as he passes from this life before her.

“Dmitri,” she cries and rests her hands upon his chest. A knock comes upon the door.

“What’s going on here?” Cheryl asks as she steps into the room.

She covers her mouth and takes a step back hitting the wall.

“What happened?” Cheryl asks, and calls for a guard to come in.

“He was showing me how to fight and he told me to not hold back. I didn’t and now he’s like this. I cannot believe that this has happened. I didn’t mean for him to die.” A guard stands at her side and pulls her off the ground and leads her to the front door.
“Drenaia, you had better leave.” Says a guard who opens the door for her. “I’m sorry for what had happened, but we need to take care of this and I’m afraid to see how Cheryl is reacting. He was her son and I know this is going to be hard for her.” Drenaia walks out the door and leaves the house forever.

She stops to see her old home and begins tearing as she remembers the morning that Dmitri had come to save her. She remembers shuddering and now knows, that the past is behind her. She will never fear a man, and it was all because of the kindness of a stranger. One whom she’d put to death herself.
For now, she roams the earth looking for that bit of soul that she’d lost that fateful morning, when she finally gained that bit of soul to love.

Forever forsaken is the name Drenaia.

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