Locked Away, Open Arms

Yohan hit the cold floor of the prison cell, the metal bars closing as he heard keys jiggle into the lock. Gruff and burly prisoners glared at him from the other stalls, taking his mere presence as provocation. With a sheepish grin and wave, he backed into a corner and somewhat out of sight – then once truth hit him like a brick, he kicked his legs as a child and screamed silently.

“I can’t believe this! I didn’t think this through at all!”

The way he imagined it, he would’ve knocked the judges off their feet, using his charismatic words and admirable convictions, effortlessly achieving an innocent verdict while he received an ovation from the crowd… But clearly, that didn’t come to be. At all. The birds chirped cheerily as if to spite him.

“What are you in for, shrimp?” asked a hairy giant from the block across.

“Um… Illegal mending?”

He scoffed. But Yohan, thinking it best to be at least a little familiar with the frightening inmates, pushed the topic further by asking, “What about you?”

“Choked a guy out. Then tossed his sorry-self into the river.”

“Oh, um… Well…”

“What? You judging me, pal?”

“No, no! Not at all, no judgment here, sir! Ahahaha!”

The other laughed with him, confusing his nervousness for a mutual liking of twisted humor. Smacking his knee, he said, “Haha, yeah! You should’ve seen the look on his face as he begged for mercy!”

“Hahahaha..!?”

He hid his face as his laughter turned into bitter sobs.

“Somebody get me out of here!”

It was to no avail. For three nights and four days, nobody came aside from guards to feed him slop or occasionally release him into the yard – where he was scared out of his mind, forced to run from aggressive men who saw his thin build as a prime target for assault. As he dodged kicks and fists, he wondered if he really did make the wrong choice.

When a guard would announce, “Lights out!”, and the tiny flames of candles were taken off their wicks, Yohan would curl into bed, a far-cry from his large and snug one back at home, piled with excessive pillows and thick, fluffy coverings. Here, the mattress was stiff, the air was chilled. The whole thing seemed an unfitting reward for him, regret beginning to give way…

But as he remembered the gratitude of the Guardians, he smiled. Sometimes he’d even sing a song – annoying the others since he was offkey and sounded like a dying goat. Nevertheless, it was his expression of solace. Even if he would’ve felt differently about it if he wasn’t tone-deaf.

However, it was in the middle of one of these ballads, that he received a sudden visitor. Not a guard, or a prisoner that somehow escaped – but a young woman. She was visible through the small, barred opening on the upper wall of his cell.

“Are you… Yohan Smith?”

The moonlight making her look angelic, Yohan thought it was his time.

“No! You have me mistaken!” he said, trying to cheat death.

“Do you know where I can find him?”

He was about to make up some random whereabouts, when he noticed something – how beaten the woman looked. Bags under her eyes, bruises on her skin.

“Actually… Yes, I am Yohan.”

“But you just said—”

“Never mind that! Why have you taken the effort to see me?”

She looked around for prying eyes, then the armor disappeared from her body, and she lifted her shirt. Yohan was shaken up – the bruises extended downward, painting her torso black and blue, as blood seeped from inadequately stitched wounds.

“During a storm, my home fell apart, and left me trapped under the rubble… They say my injuries leave me with only a short time to live.”

“And you made it all the way here in that state? You remind me of someone!”

“When I heard there was an unhinged Mender causing ‘havoc,’ I knew it was my only chance, and decided against my afflictions stopping me.”

“Sheesh, you Guardians are something else. But!” he put his hands together, smiling wide, “I shall accept your request!”

He pushed the bed under the window, then stood on top. He stuck his arms through the spaces, gaining a better angle to treat her body with. Fortunately, the prisoners cared not for the law, so they ignored his affairs. But worried about outsiders, Yohan worked quickly yet efficiently, tugging on and connecting snapped threads to make her well again.

And through his dedication, what should’ve taken over an hour was done in less than that.

The woman, free of pain and bleeding, would live.

“Thank you, truly,” she said as she saluted him. “If I can do anything in return, please let me know.”

“In fact, there is! There must be others similar to you, right? Hurt by the storms?”

“Yes.”

“Then bring them all here! Every single one!”

Even the inmates gasped.

“I don’t think that would be possible… And for the law’s sake, most are willing to die.”

“Hmm, good point… No matter! Just bring as many as you can, even if it’s just one!”

And to his delight, that’s just what the Guardian did, as a token of appreciation. One by one, a patient was brought to him. Either through their own resilience, or carried by a companion. Word spread in whispers, of the “criminal” who freely mended from the slammer, and numbers increased. They avoided creating a horde to not draw attention, but in total, Yohan treated well over fifty people that night – the best of his life. He thanked all of them tearfully, and none understood what for.

“I have to admit, I was wrong.”

“Roe!”

Unlike the rest, she was inside, standing out his cell.

“I’ve never seen anything like this… This amount of Guardians willing to forsake the system. And here I was, thinking you’d only find a few, if that.”

“Well, I’m definitely not surprised. System or not, people want to live!”

“Guess you’re correct…”

“Are you okay, Roe? You seem off.”

“I’ve been waiting for an Elder to send me an official summoning, however… I received other news instead.”

“Bad news?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone lowering. “But I can handle it.”

Roe pulled out a pair of keys and inserted one into the lock. Grabbing the bars, Yohan asked, “What are you doing?”

“You’re lucky. I’m assigned to this prison whenever I’m not out there fighting, so nobody will bat an eye if I’m ‘transferring’ you.”

“B-But I don’t want to be moved! How will I reach my patients?”

“I’m not actually transferring you, idiot,” she muttered quietly. “I’m letting you go.”

The cell was opened, and out sprinted an elated Yohan, pumping fists into the air.

“YES!”

“Quiet down before you get us caught.”

“Right, right – sorry,” then slinging an arm over her shoulder, he said, “You know, Roe, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship!”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

And from that day onward, Yohan was a fugitive – the happiest there ever was.