Adrenaline mounted an assault on his senses as he walked. Thrill and fear increased with each passing moment, an addictive concoction he couldn’t resist. He was trapped by Sister Anne and the promises held within her words.
“Your life can be more than this, Ien.” She motioned to the windowless corridors and dark rooms they passed. “So much more. But you have to have faith in me.”
Sister Anne had a motherly kindness that coated her words. He wanted to drink it in, allow it to soothe and feed the deepest parts of his soul. Through her, he felt healed and the curse of his deformity seemed less important.
Through her, it felt possible to live again.
They walked down the last long hallway to the furthermost point from his room. He saw no one save the sister on their journey. No patients or nurses. No nuns. No attendants of any kind. Everything was silent except for the sound of their footsteps against the stone floors. Again he wondered about the place he called home.
Crucifixes hung on the walls of every room they passed. It must be a convent, Ien mused. The irony circled around him. Condemned to die in a place of worship; only Mother could make this happen.
“They won’t be finished for at least an hour.” Sister Anne motioned to the group of nuns seated in a small sanctuary they passed.
“Shouldn’t you be with them?” Ien didn’t want her to leave and he didn’t want to go back to his room. He drew a deep breath.
“I’ll join them soon, after you’ve seen what I must show you.” Sister Anne pushed the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway open, her breath marred by gurgles and wheezing.
The room opened into a large dark space filled with only a few chairs and an old piano that appeared to be abandoned, just like Ien. He walked to the instrument and his fingers began twitching, playing an invisible song. Hesitating for just a moment when he reached the piano, Ien glanced at Sister Anne.
“It’s alright,” she said. “A piano is meant to be played. Please. Go ahead.”
Ien sat down and stretched his hands. It had been months since he touched a piano. He longed to feel the keys under his fingertips and create music, to feel control over something in his life. He looked at his hands. The skin had healed, but his fingers were deformed and misshapen. Broken, just like the rest of him. He wondered if he could still draw out the music as he had before. He stretched his fingers, his hands, his arms, and settled in to play. With a heavy sigh, he began—first Bach, just to warm up, then Mozart and Chopin. All of the songs from his youth.
Sister Anne sat in the nearby chair, her useless eyes staring through him. “You play well.”
“Thank you. It’s been a long time. I’m afraid I am a bit rusty.”
“Not at all. But I wonder, would you play the other song for me? The one most special to you?”
Ien stopped mid-note. He hadn’t told her about that song. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about it save Kiera.
“You mentioned it when you spoke of her, Kiera. I would very much like to hear it. Please.”
Ien recalled his previous conversations with Sister Anne, replaying every mention of Kiera. He was certain he’d made no mention of the music he shared with her alone. But he must have. How else could she have known? His thoughts began to fragment with the uncertainty clouding his mind. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. I am not insane. There is nothing wrong. I survived the fire, death. I am alive. Everything is fine. The words cleared his mind. He swallowed hard.
“Please, Ien.” Her voice pulled him back to reality. “Trust me. It’ll be a good release for you, help ease your pain. You must let go of it now. Let go of everything.”
She was right, of course. Ien needed to unload the grief he’d been carrying for too long. He stared at the keyboard, hesitant. The song had only existed in his head since the explosion. The last time it was played life was hopeful and he and Kiera had a future.
The last time he’d been whole.
Ien trembled slightly. He placed his hands on the keys, his fingers cautiously playing the first few notes.
“Yes, Ien. Keep playing.”
Her voice seeped into his skin, urging him forward. Drawing a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed the music to pour from his fingers. The notes of the duet struck a strange harmony that sounded different.
No longer filled with hope and promise of a life together, the music had become dark. Even sinister. Every measure of promise was now filled with dread and an impenetrable pain. Each note of hope replaced by fear. And every cadence of love now brought only longing.
The despair in the music crept through him, awakening a familiar terror from deep within. Anguish rose to the surface with each note. He tried to stop it, tried to end the music all together. But he was compelled to finish, trapped in the song that was meant to set him free.
Ien played the last notes with trembling fingers and opened his eyes. Tears trickled down the ligaments and bones that now defined his cheeks. He was spent, broken. The one piece of music that should have comforted him, now reminded him of everything he had lost.
Ien looked towards the now empty chair. Sister Anne was gone. Hopelessness and desperate longing welled inside of him, swirling up his throat. He stretched his neck and hands, wiping the last of the tears from his face. The feel of his deformed skin pushed him further into his grief. Sister Anne couldn’t save him from his life, not now that he remembered the depth of his losses.
He had nothing to live for now.
“Are you still waiting for me, Kiera?” he whispered to the ghosts haunting him. “Will you remember your vows to me? Will you?”
~
Ien found his way back to the piano several times over the next week, Sister Anne’s voice ever present in his thoughts, as he remembered everything she had said to him.
“This is not a life, Ien. You need to find yourself and carve out something new,” she would say during every visit.
He knew she was right, he wasn’t living anymore. Nor was he dead. He existed in that strange place in between, trapped. He repeated her words with each step, reaching for the comfort they once brought. Every door he passed, every corridor he turned down brought him to the same question: Was the Sister right? Could he really build something new from the ashes of his ruined life?
He touched his face, registering the lingering pain the deformity held. He was still alive, despite everything. The accident had not killed him. Neither had Mother. He was alive.
And Kiera was still out there. Somewhere.
He sat at the piano, mentally rehearsing the duet. Kiera’s melody flooded his ears and he tried to turn the music into what it was meant to be, a love song. He stretched his fingers and began to play.
“Build a new life, Ien. Find Kiera.” Sister Anne’s words echoed around him. Her voice harmonized perfectly with the music he created. “Make people see that you’re not cursed, not a monster.”
Ien clung to the words in his thoughts, desperate to believe them.
Measure after measure, he pictured a life with Kiera, one where she accepted him, undaunted by the scars of his face.
“Yes, Ien. That can be your life.” Sister’s words fueled his fantasies.
He remembered Kiera’s promise to him. I will love you forever, she had said once.
Forever.
He carved the word into his soul. Kiera was his forever, deformity or no deformity. He would find her and they would be together. Because she promised that they would.
“Your love will endure.” Sister Anne’s voice rose with the climax of the duet. “Find her, make her yours. Remind her of her promise.” The music peaked, Ien’s fingers flying across the keyboard in a frenzy. “Trust me.”
“Ahhhh!”
The shrill scream shattered the song mid-note. Ien spun toward the sound still echoing through the room. A young girl stood at the threshold, her eyes wide, her face white. She screamed again.
And again.
Ien’s hands flew to his face, touching h
is shame. Ligaments and bone, unmasked for all to see. He pushed into the shadows, desperate to shield himself. His blood pumped too loudly in his ears. His breath came in short spurts. And still the girl screamed, her voice splitting the air around them.
“Deus Meus,” the girl said, her voice finally beginning to crack. “Deus Meus.” Her skin blanched further as she fainted, eyes open, and fell to the stone floor with a loud thud.
Ien panicked. His illusions crumbled in the shadow of the truth—he was still a monster. He rushed to the girl, kneeled beside her and searched for a pulse.
“I’d thank you to move away from her at once, Mr. Montgomery.” Sister Agnes appeared at the doorway with a handful of attendants and nuns. “Now, Mr. Montgomery.”
Ien watched the color drain from their faces as they took in the full measure of his deformity. Two of the sisters turned away and gagged. The others made the sign of the cross, dropped to their knees and prayed. More than once he heard the words devil and cursed whispered in Latin.
The attendants, clothed in white and holding long needles approached him from either side. Ien stepped backwards, his instincts guiding him.
“Wait,” Sister Agnes called out as he neared the door.
Ien continued his escape. There was no way he was getting sedated again, no way he would give his life over to them. The larger of the attendants grabbed for him, narrowly missing. Ien ducked down, and squeezed around the crowd. Within a moment he was free.
He ran down the stone corridors, turning left and right with each juncture. Footsteps pounded behind him. Please, Sister Anne. Find me. Help me. He repeated the make-shift prayer over and over.
She never responded.
His thoughts darkened as the sound of footfalls faded away. Words layered over his now-chaotic thoughts.
Cursed.
Monster.
Devil.
Ien burst into his room, the words wrapped tightly around him. Fear and guilt morphed into a mixture of rage and terror, strangling him.
“You’re nothing but a weak fool.” Mother’s voice echoed around his room.
Ien spun around, looking. The room was empty.
“Weak and pitiful. You have no right to live.”
“No! No! You lie.” he yelled to the ghost haunting him. “I’m not weak.”
“Afraid. Terrified.” Mother’s voice boomed through him. “You’re such a coward.”
Ien glanced around the room, unable to answer the accusations assaulting him. He tightened his fists, holding his breath until he had no choice but to gasp for air. “Go away,” he whispered. “Please go away.”
Laughter rang throughout the room. Mother’s. Erik’s.
16.
“When I let go of what I am,
I become what I might be.”
~Lao Tzu
~~
My mind slips into darkness as the madness descends once again, stealing my breath. My life. A palpable terror pulses around me. I am Ien Montgomery. I am alive. I am not a monster. I can control this. I recite the mantra, praying it will pull me from the abyss. But the words have no meaning this time and I’m trapped, unable to stop the deep fear awakening through me.
My body begins to shake. Bile rushes up my throat and I taste my anguish on my tongue. I gag, emptying myself onto the floor.
I am Ien…
The silence of my mind absorbs my words. I spit the excess fluids from my mouth and say the words out loud, speaking to the emptiness around me. “I am Ien Montgomery.” My voice echoes around me. “I am alive.”
“Are you sure?”
Erik’s voice sends chills through me, reaching my soul. I struggle to find a way to say yes, but the word will not form.
Childhood scenes emerge from the lingering notes of his voice, horrific pictures I’ve vowed to forget.
The forest by my house.
Me on horseback.
Erik…bleeding.
I pinch my eyes shut to escape the memory. It’s no use. The images soak through my eyelids, coming, coming, coming.
“Stop,” I yell before I think. “Stop!”
“Too late for that.”
Blinding light eclipses the space around me, transporting me into that memory I fear most of all...
~~
I’m riding Eden, my favorite horse. We run through the forest, dodging the lower tree branches and brambles. Wind catches my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. I’m lost in a rare moment of freedom as Eden and I move deeper and deeper into the forest I call home.
“Come on girl,” I say, giving her a firm kick. We know every inch of this place.
I ride hard, reaching a clearing dotted with small ferns and a blanket of pine needles. I stop and allow Eden to nibble on the fresh greens surrounding us, waiting.
A second passes.
And another.
The forest grows quiet, too quiet.
“Where’d he go, girl? Huh?” I listen intently, straining to hear another set of hooves. Only silence greets me.
“Erik!” I yell, squinting down the path I just came from. “Erik!” Again I am greeted with nothing but the sound of my own breath.
More seconds pass. The silence broadens, mounting its own assault on my senses. I turn Eden back, retracing my steps at a slow walk.
“Where is he? We couldn’t have come that far.” I pat the horse’s strong neck as dread rises up from my gut.
Curve by curve I make my way towards the house, calling Erik’s name. The empty response fills me with fear.
“Come on, Erik, you’ve got to be here somewhere.” My heart beats faster and faster as I get closer to the house. My palms begin to sweat with each unanswered call. My breathing grows more shallow. I inch my way towards the tree line.
And then I see it—
broken tree limbs,
crushed leaves,
a piece of Erik’s shirt.
I dismount, running to the trees. A ravine drops into oblivion just past the crushed leaves and broken branches. Curved rocks jet out in every direction.
“Erik!” I yell as tears spring to my eyes. “Erik!” I grow frantic, pacing the side of the ravine, straining to hear…something. I try to scale down the steep hill, only to slide. Fear grips me and I reach for the tree roots pushing through the rocks. The tears stream down my face in a rush.
My breath comes too fast. “Please, Erik. Tell me you’re okay. Erik!” I have to find him. Have to…
Laughter cuts off my thoughts, breaking the endless silence. I pull myself to the top of the hill.
Erik leans against his horse, laughing. His hair, dark and unkempt, frames his face. We share the same chiseled features, the same haunting eyes. But he looks strong, powerful. And I…I look weak.
“What’s wrong, brother?” he asks, his voice deeper than mine. “Afraid I slipped?”
The tears dry in an instant. My blood boils over, heat rushing up my face. “What?”
“Wh-wh-what? I scared you, that’s what! Got you good, by the look of it.”
“How long were you watching me?”
“The whole time. You get yourself pretty worked up, don’t you?” Erik continues to laugh at me, just like always.
Every. Single. Day.
Endless taunts and laughter. Endless quips and insults.
I clench my jaw, my hands balled into fists by my side. Everything slows and my focus narrows. My mind is clear, determined. The world is still save the ever-increasing beat of my heart, frantically pulsing.
I spring from the edge of the ravine, tackling Erik to the ground. My fists pound his face, his body. Over and over. Erik’s laughter stops. He blocks my blows, landing a few of his own. My fists meet his arms, his jaw, his nose. I hit and hit, thinking of nothing else—not the blood streaming from my hands, not the sounds ceasing from his lips.
I pummel my brother while the years of torment play through my thoughts and the sound of his voice teasing me echoes in the air.
Each blow brings more release. I wra
p my hands around his throat, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
The images begin to fade.
The voice, his voice, begins to quiet.
My arms grow heavy along with my breathing. Erik stops fighting, stops moving, stops breathing.
Stops.
He lays on the forest floor unmoving. The ground is soaked in our crimson hatred. Our love.
My body trembles and shakes, tears flooding my eyes. “What have I done?” I whisper. What have I done?
~~
I fall out of the memory as scenes pass across my vision at a furious rate.
I’m pushing the body into the ravine…
covering the blood with pine needles…
taking Erik’s horse to the house…
Mother cries as I tell her about the accident. A funeral is held without a body, and my days of music end. I’m expected to take Erik’s place and take over the family business.
Guilt rises through me, tainting every cell. I swore to forget these memories. Locked away my feelings deep inside where no one would ever find them.
I ignored Erik’s voice in my dreams. Ignored the way he reached out for me each night. I pretended he never existed at all.
Until now.
His laughter taunts me again, the images of him flood my vision. He said that he had forgiven me once, in a dream long ago. Now I know the truth—
he
lied…
17.
“The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.”
~John Milton (Paradise Lost)
~
The door rattled and shook. “Ien!” Sister Anne knocked again. “Ien!”
She had only whispered his name, but the urgency in her voice pulled him from the memories of Erik. He opened his eyes, his knuckles white from gripping the windowsill.
“I know you’re in there.”
Ien walked to the door, wringing his hands. He opened it and turned away, the images of his dead brother too fresh in his thoughts.
Transcend Page 9