Shattered Soul

The teenage boy huddled under his cloak, attempting to make himself as small as possible. He felt as if there were a thousand piercing eyes trained on him, and he couldn’t escape their scorching gaze. He just wanted to shrivel up and disappear into the center of the earth. He still couldn’t comprehend why he had been spared. Why would anyone want to give him another chance? Why would God give him a chance to keep living? At this point...

‘I’m too broken. I already broke a long time ago.’ The boy thought miserably. ‘There’s no way to make me normal again. I already passed that point.'

He could still feel the phantom eyes but, in reality, he was barely getting suspicious side-glances now. Taking shelter in an alley and waiting for the crowds to die down had been smart. With the survival skills hammered into him from childhood, the boy should have anticipated that the public wouldn’t be happy about his release. Even though it occurred by order of the king and had taken place quietly, it hadn’t prevented him from being mobbed by the citizens. He shuddered. He still ached from the beating. Not wanting to touch him, the crowd had thrown rocks, bottles, and sticks at him. The crusted blood on his cheek itched, but he didn’t have time to stop and clean up. Every fiber of his being screamed to be as far away from the city, and people in general, as  humanly possible. 

The blood had come from a cut over his left eye left by a glass bottle shattering against his face. ‘It’s definitely going to scar, but it’s not a problem.' It wasn’t like his young body wasn’t already tattooed in old scars. As they were from blades and not fire or poison, they weren’t gross looking or obvious but, if you looked at his skin, you’d be able to see the phantom traces of his past. What was one more little scar? ‘Maybe a facial scar will be scary enough that people will just leave me alone.’ The boy thought wishfully.

As he wove his way through the hidden spots of Nacre, lurking in its shadows, the child couldn’t silence the echoes of the angry voices that echoed on repeat in his head.

“Murderer! We don’t want you here! Leave!”

“Filthy mercenary!”

“How many innocents have you killed? How much blood is on your hands? Why do you get to go on living while they’re dead? What do you think human life is?”

“A devil child! Evil spirit! Get out of the city! You’ll bring a curse on us from all your bloodshed!”

“You bastards killed my uncle! The entire village was wiped out! They were farmers and no threat to anyone! Why?! Does the king not give a damn about them, or did you put some sort of spell on him?”

The boy hadn’t been able to deny the words. They’d sunk deep into the core of his being and ripped jagged gashes across his heart. All he’d been able to muster was whimpers and a weak, repetitive “no”. He’d wanted to beg them not to hurt him; to just let him go. He didn’t want to harm anyone or even be seen by anyone. He just wanted to be left alone and forgotten. ‘I didn’t want this! Not the things I did, not this pardon...please! I’m scared and I don’t want to hurt anyone! I never wanted to hurt anyone! Please...!’ The silent cry of a soul that just wanted to be seen and acknowledged on a human level had gone unarticulated; trapped in the painful tangle of the boy’s past and emotions. He'd been unable to convey those feelings to the mob.

As scared as he’d been, he had simply shoved his way through the crowd and made a break for it when the fear went beyond what he could bear. He didn’t hate or blame the people. They had every right to want revenge. As much as it caused him mental and emotional pain, he couldn’t say that he didn’t deserve it. ‘I’m a murderer and a thief, and a liar. I’ve done bad things, and I should have been punished like the other men. Me being younger doesn’t make what I did any less bad and it doesn’t bring any comfort to the people whose lives I’ve ruined. What justice is there in me being free after all the lives I took? What about the people's families?’ He had no right to complain.

‘I need to get out of the capital. Then...what? Where do I go?’ The king had made sure he was provided a small amount of gold on his discharge, but it wouldn’t last forever. Where could he even go? Was there even a town that wouldn’t recognize him as one of the mercenaries from the underground network? He had the skills to live in the woods, so he’d make it one way or another but...what sort of life would it be to just live in the forest, having to fight every day just to sustain himself? All the survival instincts in the world hadn't prepared him for the reality of being truly alone in the world, let alone having the freedom to do whatever he wanted. 

As he wove his way through the city, the boy suddenly froze. A beautiful cathedral made of marble, gold, and silver sparkled like an oasis in the sun. In the courtyard, too many rose bushes for the boy to count gave off a sweet fragrance, and the vines of climbing roses seemed to be intertwined with the very structure of the building. The Cathedral seemed to shine even brighter than the sun. The boy’s face lit up in awe. Despite his faith, he’d never set foot in a church in his life. He hadn’t had the opportunity, and he wasn’t exactly welcome in most legitimate public spaces, either. He couldn’t help his childish desire to go inside and, the more he thought about it, the more the desire to go and pray felt like a need as desperate as air. God was the only thing that had held him together throughout his entire life and his faith had kept him sane during his months in prison isolation while the King decided what to do with him. He was exhausted, anxious, and tired in a way that was more than just physical exhaustion. He had so many pent-upfeelings inside him that it was like there was a giant brick resting on his chest. He really needed to just talk to God and get his feelings out. It wasn’t exactly pretty or elegant, but it helped clear his mind and ground him. He really could use some comfort and relief.

Nervously, the boy moved forward. The area seemed empty. ‘I have just as much right to be here as anyone else.’ He reassured himself. ‘Besides, it’s a church. The only reason anyone would be here is because they also love God, so I shouldn’t have any trouble. If someone loves God and is grateful to be alive, then they have to be a good person by definition.’ His simple, guileless logic completely ignored his own self-loathing and doubt that God could want to forgive him, but it was honest. While nervous, entering the church was the most confident and unafraid the boy had felt in a long time. While he couldn’t admit it to himself, he craved kindness and comfort and completely believed that he’d find those in the church. This hope caused a jittery, anticipatory sensation in his stomach. For the first time in his life, the boy felt thought he could and would be saved.

The main chapel was empty. The boy silently slid into one of the pews and began to pray. Only a few moments had passed when, out of nowhere, he was roughly dragged out of his seat and thrown to the ground. He yelped in shock, confused about what had happened. A man dressed in the pale blue and gold robes of the grand cathedral stood scowling down at him. “What are you getting at, boy?” The priest hissed through his teeth. The boy stared at the cleric in confusion, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. “W-what do you mean?” “Don’t play with me. I know who and what you are. One of those murderers who’d kill anyone for a handful of gold, uncaring about if they were good people or had even done anything worth being killed over. You should have been hanged with the others.” The boy froze. He’d said the same things to himself countless times but had no idea how to respond to someone saying them directly to his face. As the moments passed in silence, the priest became agitated by the boy’s silence. “Heart too dead and black to even own up to your actions?” “N-no!” The boy insisted. “I just-! I j-just...” He looked away as his voice failed him. He could feel the man’s powerful aura and strength of will and withered under the holy man’s gaze. “I just wanted to pray! That’s all! I don’t want to bother anyone, honest! I just want...I just want...God.” His voice trailed to a whisper. The man’s eyes flashed. “Don’tyou dare utter the Lord’s name carelessly like that! Whatever you’re plotting, I won’t let you defile holy ground by doing your dirty work here!”

‘Oh...he must think I’m here to meet someone for something sketchy. Or to try and kill someone, maybe? I guess there isn’t any limit to how low people will go. But that's not what I’m doing at all. I’m not bothering anyone.’ The boy slowly climbed to his feet and bowed awkwardly. “I-I think there’s a misunderstanding. I need God and I just wanted to pray. I’m not harming anyone, and the sanctuary is empty. I'm sorry.”

“Get out!” The priest snapped. “B-but I-!”

“You!” As the priest drew close to the boy, his intimidating figure and enraged face made the child feel as small and powerless as a worm. “There isn’t any misunderstanding! I don’t want you here and God would be incensed to see a murderer in his house! You’ll defile this place!” The boy felt like someone was aggressively  squeezing his heart. “I know I’m bad but...I have just as much right to be here as anyone else.” He forced himself to push back. He just craved the comfort of God’s presence, that was all. He just wanted to take the edge off his pain, even a little. He wanted to pray in a church like a normal human being for once! As much as he dreaded it, the boy tried to stand up for himself. A near feral look came across the priest's face.

“Hypocrite! Spinning things to make yourself an into a victim! No one is entitled to access God! But what should I expect from a mercenary who only knows how to lie and use others to satisfy his own desires? "The boy felt the last shred of his strength wilting, but made one final attempt to advocate for himself. “I know what I am! I know that better than anyone!” His voice rose. “But I just want God! I just want to be forgiven! How could that ever be something wrong to want?”

With a hiss, the priest slapped the boy across the face. His cheeks stung as the boy stared in horror at the man. “You’re corrupt to the core, and the kind of person God despises from the depths of his being. There’s no way you could ever really believe. And even if you did, what good would it do? You deserve punishment and suffering, and that’s your fate. Do you get it yet? God hates you!”

With those cruel words, the sickened boy could almost hear the last remnants of his sanity and heart shattering into a thousand pieces. Despite what he had thought earlier, this dashing of his last hope; the betrayal of the one thing he thought he could trust in; was what finally broke him completely and sent him spiraling downward for years.