A Hero's Lament | ONC 2023

Fragmented

In a murky hallway, shattered ornaments litter the dark wood floor. An ashen odour, the sort instantly associated with burnt dinner, fuses with bitter alcohol. Silence veils flesh striking flesh, slurred profanities, fervent pleas and weeping.

A little boy stands petrified, silently watching a man's silhouette loom over a woman's. Unrelenting, the towering silhouette's strikes resound. Witnessing this scene repeatedly, the boy's fear, anger, hatred and shame never lessen. Another night he has failed her.

Enough! The boy races out of that miserable hallway where blood and tears stain the walls, unlocks the front door and flees, aware and unaware he has nowhere to go. He has no idea how far he has run when his legs and lungs fail. The sidewalk, hard and cold, offers no comfort. The people walking past pay no attention until a voice calls from behind.

The little boy lifts his head toward soft curls, a milk chocolate complexion and an empathetic smile...

***

Kelvin glanced past his fortress's pillars when footsteps approached. Four days passed since Hayleigh's funeral. He vaguely recalled Mayor Chamberlain standing behind the podium, delivering the official eulogy. No distinct phrase clung to his memory. The general public thronged the cemetery, jostling for the best Check-Dat footage. The proceedings felt personal and impersonal simultaneously.

Every camera hungered for Tristan, clad in his exoskeleton. From his laptop, Kelvin had watched numerous clips featuring the towering figure standing motionless, staring blankly, eyes bloodshot and bleary, the ringed bow and arrow restored upon his chest. He had not spoken a word since the tragedy.

Showered, beard trimmed and wearing fresh clothes, Tristan plodded into the kitchen then rustled through the cupboards and refrigerator to ready a bowl of cereal. Fresh tears leaked from his eyes the moment he sat at the fortress's border. 

"Had that nightmare again; can't stop thinking about her, Kel; worst and best day of my life; never ate this cereal before she took me in," blabbered Tristan.

"Yeah, nobody knew you quite as well as she did. Still your favourite, isn't it?" responded Kelvin, forcing a smile.

Tristan took a deep, shaky breath. Head bowed, he closed his eyes. The humming engines, honking horns, murmuring voices, occasional screams, pattering footsteps and twittering birds all failed to infiltrate this basement. For the first time since moving here, Tristan found himself painfully aware that gloom and dilapidation enveloped him again.

"Hayleigh would chew me out for moping this long. I should be out there making a difference, keeping people safe, improving lives..." Tristan attempted to laugh but his throat tightened and voice quivered.

Kelvin ceased typing to peer over his laptop. "What's holding you back, man? You're right. Hayleigh would want you out there. In Eros' absence, the crime rate has soared. Too many articles exploring the phenomenon. Ajay Chatterjee's enjoying debating Mayor Chamberlain's lacklustre reforms, Captain Slovurn's incompetence and the guardians' purpose. Keyboard Warrior hasn't been spotted in public or claimed responsibility but people suspect..."

"Baby steps, Kel. Today, I'll be heading out as Tristan. Eros will have to wait. All the attention, the cameras constantly pointing at me... I also need to make peace with my methods. I must ensure that I truly am nothing like my father..." muttered Tristan, dropping his spoon and sinking his face onto his palms.

"I'm just glad you're fighting to move forward, Tris," replied Kelvin, typing at full speed again.

Tristan gulped his cereal, washed the dishes then collected his keys from the lounge, suddenly conscious of the potent grease and body odours hovering around the fortress.