Prince of Porcelain

Chapter 8: Reflected

My tired eyes opened slightly from sleep, and much has changed. I wasn't tied up anymore, but the belt was still in my mouth. Warm sheets were pulled up to my waist, and I didn't feel my shoes on my feet.
Pain soaring through my body, I looked under the sheets because I felt different. Once I looked, I was horrified. All of what was left of my clothes was gone. I was entirely naked.
   Fear overtook my entire being as I realized what happened to me. Marcus has truly abused me. My eyes filled with tears as I turned away from my body. I heard a moan, and turned, realizing Marcus was dead asleep next to me. He had an almost-empty liquor bottle in hand, dangling over the other side of the bed. He was turned the other way, and I'm almost certain he wouldn't feel well today.
   My body trembling, I sat up and unfastened the leather strap between my lips. Once I did, my lungs took in free air, and my mouth and lips felt dry and sore. Looking at the broken mirror, I decided to see what my uncle has done to me, and how I appear.
   Pain flowing through my veins, I rested my bare feet on the cold ground and approached the mirror. I shut my eyes, afraid of what I may see. I lean against the tall bedpost, right in front of the shattered mirror. In fear, I slowly open my eyes and I'm met with a heart-shattering sight.
   Reflected in the shattered glass, my pale, bare skin is tainted with injuries and wounds. Bruises of all colors were scattered on every part of my body, as common as fingerprints. My older wounds were barely fading, and it showed horribly. It turns out Marcus had carved words on my skin with the knife, horrible, ugly words. They were things like, "Doll-face," "Mistake," "wrong," "crybaby," and "dishonor." Other awful insults were scattered on me, but some are too cruel to speak of.
   I hadn't seen my face ever since the night I was kidnapped, and I wished it stayed that way. My eyes were bloodshot, and they no longer glistened without tears in them. Bruises and red marks and scars decorated my neck, along with what I thought was maybe... a bite mark? My golden hair no longer shined, and it was wild and messy.
   My lips were red and chapped, and red marks lined the sides of them. Dried blood and fresh blood ran over me like dried beads. A large red mark circulated my neck, which was probably from the belt. Not only bruises, but dark circles surrounded my eyes, and the mirror made everything look even more broken.
   Now I know I truly am the Prince of Porcelain, and I have become broken and shattered. Tears fall from my already-tear stained cheeks, which look thinner than before. Not wanting to wake Marcus, I cover my mouth with my own hand, muffling my cries as I slump to the floor.
   My own uncle, my own family, had done this to me. And who knows how much more I'll have to bare. I'll die here, I know I will. I continue to sob on the ground as silent as I can, thinking of how I will perish.
Then, I sit up after a few moments of sorrow and spot the old chest in the corner. Wiping my tears, I crawl to the chest quietly. Once I reach it, my body leans over it. I feel the rusty metal and rotting wood, and oddly, it comforts me.
   My fingers outline the lock, and they accidentally put pressure on it. The chest top suddenly pops open, the click and thud echoing throughout the room. I jump and turn to my sleeping uncle, praying he wouldn't awake. Marcus didn't move a muscle. He must be out cold.
I want to see what lies here, but I don't want to intrude. But then again, if I'm going to die here, why would anything matter?
With little strength needed, I pushed the lid of the chest open, and my mouth gaped. Multiple paintings and pictures lay in frames in the chest, and books stacked almost to the brim. One small, leather book was different from the rest, with a more worn-out cover and yellowing pages.
   I enclosed my hand around the book and opened it. On the inside, in black ink, it said: "Property of Marcus Everland of Sapphania." The first page started with the words, "Dear Diary." This is Marcus' diary? How old is this thing? The date in the corner read Month 8, Day 19, Year 603. If I'm correct, that was twenty-one years ago. He must've been a little older than me when he wrote this.
I set The Diary aside, and picked up two pictures. One was a painting of who must be my father and Marcus. My father looked almost exactly like me, and Marcus looked like a different person. He had long blonde hair, and his eyes were ocean blue. Marcus' jaw was quite sharp, and his skin was smoother than I ever thought it could be. They were both dressed in silvers and blues, and their faces appeared serious and solemn.
  The other picture told a very different story. It was of Marcus, who then looked like me, and another boy who looked the same age. They were out in the sun, with smiles in their faces and green trees surrounding them. My uncle appeared truly happy, not with lust, but with joy. I wondered who this boy was, and then I remembered The Diary. Maybe it would reveal more about my cruel uncle.
   I placed the pictures back into the chest and closed the lid. The lock clicked on its own, so I assumed it was locked. I grabbed The Diary and stood up. I couldn't walk around this place naked, so I searched the room for something to cover my body. It turns out my underwear was on the floor in one piece, so I grabbed them and slipped them on over my arse. Strangely, it hurt to do so.
Finding an oversized shirt on the vanity stand, I slipped it on my body, the fabric barely passing my hips. With The Diary in my hand, I decided to find my room again. I turned the doorknob to find it was unlocked.
Then, I imagined my uncle awakening, pinning me to the wall, and locking the door. He would rip the clothes off my back and torture me in his own, cruel ways again...
I quickly turned to Marcus, who was still asleep. My thoughts, thankfully, were not reenacted or real at all, so I quietly left Marcus' room and silently shut the door behind me. I had absolutely no idea where I was; all of the halls looked the same.
   Chances are, I could run into the real Joshua and he could help me, or, I could run into Carter and he'd return me to Marcus. Afraid of the worst case scenario, I leaned against the wall and tried to think of what to do. Return to Marcus. He will end your pain. No, not again, please.
   The voices had returned, or, my voices. "Go away," I choked out, barely a whisper and cracked. "Leave me alone." Trust us, Marcus will make this hell heaven. Go to him. My legs gave out beneath me and I slid down on the floor, against the wall. "No," I whimpered, clutching the sides of my head. "I won't go to him. He is a monster."
   NO, YOU ARE THE MONSTER! Suddenly, the voices were screaming and scolding me. I yelled out in pain, the words feeling like a headache. YOU ARE HORRIFIC AND BROKEN! UGLY AND SHATTERED! WORTHLESS! "No, stop!" I yell, the insults digging deep into my mind. "STOP IT!"
   I unknowingly shrieked those two words at the top of my lungs, and I knew I had made a huge mistake. Although the voices left, terror filled my body. Marcus will surely come for me now, I thought. I buried my face in my arms, not wanting to see Marcus' haunting face.
   I could hear footsteps quickly approaching me, and I buried my head in my legs, my arms wrapped over my head. With my eyes shut, I felt strong arms grasp my wrists without a word. "No, please!" I whimpered, beginning to feel tears form. "No!" They tried to pull me up as I struggled to stay down.
   "Victor, it's me!" Joshua's deep voice spoke. My head bolted up to meet with Joshua's eyes. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of my broken state. His hand cupped my cheek as he looked me up and down.
   "Did... Marcus do this to you?" Joshua asked as I held back tears. I nodded and leaned into his hand. "What did he do to you? Please tell me," he continued. "He... he tied me down on the bed," I began. "H-he tore my clothes off... a-and hurt me... I-I can't describe it."
   "Can I see?" Joshua said as he slid his hand under the oversized shirt I wore. Something broke inside me and I crawled away from him. I felt my body began to shake as I said, "I-I... can show you. P-please don't force m-me." "I would never...," Joshua said, his eyes traveling to the floor. What is he thinking?
   The man's eyes met with The Diary on the ground, and he picked it up. "What is this?" he asked, turning back to me. I turned away from Joshua, not wanting to admit my thievery. "Did you steal it?" I felt like a guilty child at his words. I nodded, and I felt Joshua kneel next to me.
"It's alright, I won't tell anyone," Joshua said, his fingers pushing my jaw to make me turn to him. "It's Marcus' diary... I-I think," I choked out, not wanting to meet Joshua's face. But I can't help it. It feels... almost irresistible.
Joshua said nothing, and handed the leather book to me. "Can I see now?" he asked, getting slightly impatient. I nodded, and reached for the bottom of my shirt. As I tried to pull it over my head, a shooting pain ran through my body and I couldn't move.
I brought my arms and shirt down, and Joshua leaned closer to me. "Do you want my help?" he asked politely. An insecurity grew inside of me, and it was planted by Marcus. I felt terrified when Joshua, the only person I think I trust now, came close to me. I don't know who to trust, and I don't want to be abused again...
"Hm?" Joshua said, still being polite and breaking me away from my trance. I peered down at the shirt and saw a path of buttons down the middle. Something I can do on my own. "I-I can do it... I'm fine," I say, beginning to unbutton my shirt, my hands trembling lightly. He won't hurt you, my mind tells me. He will not hurt you.
   As I slid the fabric off of my body, I looked up at Joshua. When his warm, soft eyes met with my beaten body, his face froze with shock, accompanied with sorrow. Joshua's fingers ran over my wounds ever so gently, yet I couldn't help but bite my lip in pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw tears form in Joshua's eyes.
He doesn't deserve to see this. He doesn't need to see this. Why does he want to? I feel as if we are both suffering for my agony.
   Joshua stood up and walked around me, as I was still sitting on the cold, stone ground. From right behind me, Joshua's footsteps stopped and I heard him gasp quietly. I turn my head as far back as I can before I feel an aching pain in my neck. "What is it?" I choke out, catching a glimpse of Joshua's face.
   He left me with no response, but his facial features reflected a perfect picture. Joshua's eyes were wide with terror and shock, and his hand covered his mouth. A tear fell from his eye as they both met with mine.
   My eyes traveled down to my back, and I saw a strange and horrific sight. There were large, long scars decorated on my bare back and they were aligned in odd positions. As I looked longer, I saw that some of them were letters, in all capitals. My head turned the other way, and now I knew what was spelled out on my skin.
PROPERTY OF MARCUS.