Chapter 4: Place of Bad History

I sit up in bed. Judging by the dreary grey-blue colours through the tent fabric I know it is before sunrise. Even though I know we will be leaving soon, I lay back trying to find Commander with my hand. I gently press down on the crumpled blanket with my palm and feel no solid body beneath it. My eyes cannot focus in this timid light.

A shadow in the corner of the room fidgits then stands. It increases in size as it approaches me. I grunt in frightened discomfort and then settle my nerves. Commander falls to his knees before me and throws his arms around my shoulders squeezing the life out of me. His arm muscles buldge as he pulls my arms painfully close to my body.

I hear nothing but feel slight trembles in his chest and throat. He's crying. He finally lets out a noise and lays me back to the bedding, stroking my face and pulling my hair back. I stare back at him trying to appear emotionless and uncaring. He pulls my shirt off of me. I prepare myself for another sexual attack and close my eyes. I lay as still as I can, waiting for it and still waiting for it. Ten minutes later and still nothing has happened. I feel his warm breath on my stomach though and open my eyes. I look down to see him staring up at me, breathing on me, saliva and mucus coating his lips. It's lighter now and I can see his eyes are dark and bloodshot. He lays his head on me right beneath my breasts. His saliva drips to my skin and pools there as he sobs.

Unsure of how to react, I lower my hand to his head and pet him. He grabs my wrist unexpectedly and I gasp. He pulls my hand to his face and strokes himself with it. "Darla," he painfully moans and continues sobbing. That's all he says and then continues crying himself back to sleep.

With the sun came Commander's senses. He awakes later than usual but works faster to make up for lost time. He sits up and quickly shaves, pulls his hair back, cleans himself with a cloth and a bucket of water, and dresses himself. He leaves the tent, unaware of my conscience presence. The day continues on just as any normal day.

By noon I can see buildings in the distance. I'm awed and frightened at the same time. I look down at the white scar on my foot between my toes and look back up.

A long time ago shortly after my brother and I escaped the bandits death-grip, a travelling caravan picked us up headed to the capital. With nowhere to go, we travelled with them. On the outskirts of the city the caravan sold us to a newlywed couple incapable of having children. My name became Anne and my brother's Liam, named after the man and woman. As they were preparing to move back into the main city to return to the man's young son from another woman, I overheard a discussion of what to do with my brother. Obviously he was small, weak, and worthless but for decoration. Anne did not want another son and especially not another she could not even call her own child. Since I could not talk, my brother refused to aswell. He took on my negative characteristics and, without my girlish charm, would not be spared the expectations for a boy. They weren't going to sell him but, since they knew no money would come from him, give him away. At the time the city was much smaller, the buildings much shorter, and the population much less.

They locked me in the house. All I could see was my brother's flailing arms as Anne's brother-in-law came to take him away from me. I beat the window with my fist. I also frantically beat the the sill, the wall, the bed, and the door. I sulked for an entire week afterwards, refusing food and only drinking when it was forced down my throat. While Anne was packing one day, regardless of her kindness and hospitality for me, I killed her just as I had killed the burning villager not so long before. Her face was unrecognizable and the home was left without me. That is what the man returned to. He chased after me, tracking me like a deer, until he caught up with me as I slept the first night. In a violent brawl I tore the eyelids from his face and in a flailing temper I got away with only a gash on my foot.

I wandered back towards the desert, unsure of where to go, unsure of where to find my brother. I strayed from hidden village to hidden village. The bandit attacks had become very frequent and few desert-dwellers could pay the outrageous protection fees. Six months later I suspected my brother was unfindable. But God does play those cruel tricks at times. As fast as we make dreams he makes it impossible to reach. But as soon as we give up hope he taunts us with a flash of what we can have. I found my brother among the people of my newest home. They had lived through destruction. They ate by stealing and ransacked nearly every village nearby. We aimlessly traveled with them regardless of the dwindling resources, looking for nothing and just happy to be together.

My brother told me about his journey. He told me about the hard labour the man put him through. The couple was madly in love but his wife just wouldn't have that sort of treatment for the boy. The man was hard-set on him being a slave and felt he owed it to him for saving him from actual slavery. The man tried to be understanding. His wife had lost her first child and was so upset by it she would not even let him see the still-born baby.

For months the woman got more and more irritable about the situation until in a huge blow-out she slapped him, roared at him, shrieked at him, and eventually retreated to the old abandoned car in the front yard. Her two children came after her and she led them back inside. She slammed the screen door and told him she never wanted to see him again. After a few moments of hesitation the man opened his mouth to utter something. She cut him off by confessing her first child she had birthed sixteen years ago was still alive and healthy and it was his brother's. She was nervous and confused before the marriage so long ago. She sought his brother for advice and one sitation led to the next. "The last thing I want is to have to give away another child," she sobbed.

The silence was broken as she swung the heavy door shut causing a gunshot sound to pierce the air. My brother took the chance to run away and that is where my story initially began.

This is the place where it all happened on my end. The abandoned home I remember so vividly loomed to the side. I worry if the man still lives in there or if he will still remember me. Of course he will. There's nothing left to live for either way.

Commander takes me to a bath house where he pays an old crippled woman to clean and groom me. He stays close by, keeping an eye on me and the progress she is making. She strips me down, drowns me in icy water and scrubs the skin raw on my back, arms, and legs. She pulls my wet hair taut and snips at it with ancient looking scissors. She trims the knotted mess off the end and shakes it out until it's almost dry. By this time my body is dry but still cold and people passing by can see me through the cracks in the walls. The old lady combs my hair with a wax-dipped comb and proceeds to pull it back in a sleek bun. It's all very painful. My broken nails are cut, filed, and smoothed. My callused hands are soaked, scrubbed, and moisturized with aloe leaves split down the middle.

As she begins to apply make-up Commander walks in and drops a bag by the entrance. He then steps outside and sits in one of the chairs provided to wait. She rubs a beige cream over my face and neck. She paints my eyes black all the way around with a wet brush and paints my lips dark red in the same manner. She applies a powder to my eyelids and cheeks and then tugs on a waxy piece of hair in the front so it falls down to the side of my face. She stands and fetches the bag. She pulls out a dress, shoes, and several accessories. Something in me subtly hopes they are mine as the gold painted necklace flashes light into my eyes. I know I am not worth these things and it is probably a final payment to the lady for my grooming. But she brings them to me and pulls me up forcefully by my wrist. As if I cannot clothe myself, she pulls the dress over my head. I feel clean and almost beautiful but I cannot see myself. I slip the shoes on myself and she clasps the necklace in the back for me. As a final touch, she smiles at me for the first time and pulls out a pair of pearly earrings from her apron. She does not seem like such a mean old lady now. She pinches them on my ears and pats my cheeks a few times.

I am excited and happy. I have a new dress, shoes, and even jewelry. I am wearing make up and I am clean. I do not smell as rank as I did and Commander is sitting right outside. I rush out to him. "Let's go," he says without looking at me and rushes me away. The old lady waves from her bath shack. I am extremely disappointed.