Rags and Riches

Ch. 14: Fire - Shayne

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

My brain is on fire. Too many things were happening at once and too many emotions were overloading my body. It took everything I could to stumble out of there with steady feet.

Glimpses of Courtney's kind and loving smile would streak across my mind like a stain. The grip she had on my arm still burned, like her fingers were still there. My personal hell hole of an orphanage would spot by, a shiver crawling up my back and my arms when a memory felt particularly strong. The charred black of my small fingers, the tears that would streak past young dust covered cheeks, the loud noises, the menacing voices...

How was this possible? How was any of this possible?

I was escorting a goddamn princess to her castle. That's already wild enough. But she also had my key. The key I had around my neck every since I could remember. Then Chicken Head and his crew pops out of nowhere, nearly kills us all, and tells me that I was never supposed to get out of the orphanage in the first place. Why didn't I see kids older than eighteen there? What happened to them? What would have happened to me if I didn't escape?

I tried to shake my head to get these awful thoughts out, but it was no use. These questions and memories and sunk their piercing talons into the mushy parts of my brain and were not going to let go.

I can't make these metals fast enough...

"...you little sons of bitches. Oh right! You're the sons of no one."

"Shayne, look! A caterpillar!"

Laughter as we ran from Chicken Head.

"I'm sorry sir, but Noah can't see."

"Damien, we have to go to sleep now so Miss won't hit us again."

My eyes burned from staring at molten metal all day.

"One more play, please Mr. Shayne?"

"Just call me Shayne. 'Mister' is too much. But thank you."

But they didn't burn as much as the merciless whip.

I...

A little boy stared at himself in the mirror, his blond hair matted with dust and singed with flames. He traced his skinny and gaunt face with a dirty finger, feeling the hollows of his cheeks and the underdeveloped ridge of his brow. His nose had a crook in it, pointing straight down. The vibrant sapphire of his eyes were dulling each day. This day in particular, they were wet.

He stepped back to look at his whole body, only to find torn clothes, patchwork all over the place. They were a mix of grey, brown, black, yellow... faded colours on his skin.

The only thing that shone from him at all was a key. A beautiful key. A silver key that seemed to shine like a shooting star, telling him everyday that one day, he'll wake up to a new dawn and have a smile on his face.

"I love you..."

"It's okay..."

"...aw don't cry!"

"I'm here for you..."

"Watch where you're going!"

A scratchy female voice screeched into my ears.

"Oh, sorry ma'am," I said reflexively. But I didn't even recognize my own voice. It was dazed; slurred. It was like I drank 5 barrels of rum, but I haven't touched a single drop since a few days ago.

"Stupid youth these days. Nobody has manners anymore!" She hobbled off with a grumble.

I must have been really out of it to not have noticed that I was walking into people. That was bad. Guards, or anyone else for that matter, could have easily snuck up on me. Be more alert.