Accusations - Chapter 1

by EpicNinjaWriter in Oregon

He had a name, a name he hated, a name he had left behind many centuries ago. He had a voice, that he had found and yet discarded, also a long time in the past. He had hands, but he never used them. He had legs, but he never walked. He had vision, but he had closed himself off from the world of seeing. The woman came each day, promising to always return. Saying she was his sister. His sister. Did she have a name, but had she, too, discarded it many years ago?

He was a cast-off, a monster, a murderer. She was sweet and pretty and gentle. Her words were soft and her hands held his solidly. He was angry, distorted with rage and hatred. She was loving, caring, and firm, looking into his lifeless eyes with her pretty gray ones. She said she loved him, she said she would return him to the world from which he came. She said he needed to free himself of his crimes, and he hated her for it.

He loved her and hated her at the same time. He loved her visits, he hated her kind words and false promises. It had been seven years. Seven years of promises that were never kept. He was shut off from the world, from memories and seeing and talking. He hadn't spoken a word in seven years.

She pleaded with the judge on that day, seven years ago, a promise, a voice, sweet and gentle. She had pleaded him guilty of murder, yes. She had pleaded with the judge, saying that he was mentally unstable. That he needed help, needed one more chance. But no one listened. The words fell and stayed heavily in the air. He was guilty.

Words were nothing to him now, cast off as one would an old suit, tattered and worn. He was regarded coldly by the judges. They were frightened of him, frightened for his sanity, frightened of the hands that he had used to hold the knife. The knife was now in the bailiff's keep, taken from him on the day of the accusation. He had lost his voice then, not physically, but mentally. He refused to talk to the judge or the sister who came to visit each day for seven years. He was alone in the world.

And he was only sixteen years old.