Soul Binds : Kingdom of Elementh

Taking place in an alternate reality, where there is advanced technology (though not that much) and kingdoms are rule by kings and queens, Odyssia has just lost her best friend. And now her mother, fearing her own son would one day leave her, has done the unimaginable: turned him into a Doll. Doing do has caught the attention of the Watchers, a cult-like group set on hunting down and capturing Dilomia. And that's when things start to get really confusing. Because now, King Anthony has got his eye on the prize.


4. Home



        It hadn't been long. But since I had been healed, they had no reason to keep me. So they sent me home. 
        The car was an inconspicuous silver in a model that blended in easily with other traffic-goers. No one really looked. They never saw anything around them. No one noticed the 28 year old man staring out his window. No one noticed the old man standing by the hospital doors, glaring to hide his confusion. No one noticed the steely eyed driver who may or may not have just been let out of his cell earlier this morning. They definitely didn't see the girl in the back seat trying not to scream in frustration. 

        I was dreading it. After everyone telling me so many times how sorry they were, I couldn't handle going back home. I could only imagine how my mother would react. She always blows things way out of proportion and with something being an actual big deal, there was no telling what she'd do. I didn't want to know. But I needed to see Peter. He would have freaked when he found out. I needed to make sure he was okay. I wasn't there to buffer Mom's antics. He was only five; such a fragile age. He was my favorite sibling of the two and I protected him as much as I could. Such a wonderful boy needed shielded from this world. 
        One part of me wanted to yell at the driver to turn around and go back. The other urged him faster, needed to see Peter. And another tiny, almost invisible piece wished constantly that old man hadn't found the strength to save me.
        "Mrs. Hollands." For the first time he glanced at me though the rear-view mirror. His icy blue eyes bore into me with an indescribable look. I stared blankly back, as I had done the entire ride; as he had previously. He continued, "We have arrived." In reply, I opened my door and stepped into the strong, cold wind. He was out in a second, sticking out his hand for me. I rested the tips of my fingers on his open palm and let him guide me up the steps and down the side walk. It must have been strange, seeing the two of us walking with stone faces up the little path. No one would have ever guessed I had died and come back. Nor would they have been able to tell this man had lost his brother. 

        I turned the knob, startled when it didn't click and let me in. For a brief flash, I was back four nights ago, desperately trying to get to Thomas. But no. I shook my head as my white knuckles faded back to normal and my hand fell off the handle. Edward glanced at me through the corner of his eye before ringing the door bell. 
        When it opened, I stood face to face with my mother. I'd expected her to freak out as she presumably would, but she just stood there and looked at me with no expression. It was like the life had been drained from her. Her cold green eyes were glazed over in an unfamiliar way. Without a second look, she turned around and went back to the kitchen, leaving me standing in the doorway. 

        Edward walked silently beside me down to the basement. I didn't know why he was following me, but I didn't question it. His sullen company was much appreciated even if I couldn't show it. 
        The room we entered was filled with all different toys and gadgets a two year old boy could love. To his discomfort, Peter was obviously not two. The choice in what he did, owned, and used was dictated by our mother; she was intent on keeping him little forever. That was why a toddler's bed still resided in the corner. The pale blue walls were covered in stickers and artwork from when he really had been two. It was horrifying, really. I myself wanted to keep him from being tainted by the outside world, but this was bordering on psychotic. 
        Peter himself was hiding under his bed with a flashlight trying to read the more age appropriate books Thomas had snuck in for him. Thomas...
        Peter's eyes shined as he hungrily read page after page. It was a terrible hiding spot but the only one he had. He couldn't even close the door. Mom had it removed when he was three and realized that was how I made her leave me alone. His attempt shocked her into noticing I had grown without her seeing it. The next morning, both our doors were gone. In there places were bead curtains, his made up of dark blue star shapes, mine a cloying bright pink array of hearts. Since then, every item I have owned has been some shade of pink and his blue. 
        Edward cleared his throat, breaking me from my thoughts and grabbing the attention of Peter.
        He snapped, "I already told you Edward, I don't know wh-" He stopped abruptly when he glanced at the door. There was a double-take before he leaped out and ran at me, crying, "DYS!" I laughed as I scooped him up. Even Edward held a small, lingering smile. Peter's ecstatic emotions quickly turned to concern as he jumped down and began carefully pulling away. I laughed again haltingly  and set my hands on his shoulders. 
        "Didn't they tell you? I'm alright." He didn't seem to hear me. "Hey, I'm alright. They healed me."
        "But... But Mom..." His bottom lip quivered as he kneaded his hands over and over again. 
        "Mom what?" Anything involving that look and my mother couldn't be good.
        "She said... She said you were.....dead."
        "Now why would she say that?"
        Edward cut in quickly, "That's what my mother told her. She thought you were." 
        "That's because I was. I had been," I addressed this to Edward but turned to Peter to finish my statement, "and now I am healed. Just as I said."
        "But how?" His tiny hands fisted in my shirt. Placing mine on his, I gently pulled them off and lifted my shirt enough to show him the sun shaped scar just below the center of my rib cage. He was too short to see so I got down on my knees. 
        "Whoa," he breathed, "It's like a little starburst." He was right. Having looked at it again I felt his description was more befitting of it. It seemed to sink in then; he finally understood. Choked sobs spilled from his little mouth.
        I let me shirt fall and hugged him to me. He shook in my arms while his tears soaked my shirt. I held him as tight as I could. I didn't realize I was crying until Edward's arms encircled us both. His own tears streaked down his cheeks. 

        That was how we stayed, holding onto each other like a raft in a drowning sea, supporting us all while using each other to hold us up. 

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