White the Cursed

02 - The clan's shame

The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon but his light was still there when the boy brought back the sheep herd at the farm. Like every day, he had counted them before leaving the mountain, and did so again as they entered the pen. After making sure he had not lost a single one of them, he went back to the house.

He was planning to do like every evening, leaving the shepherd crook by the door, picking up the plate waiting for him on the floor by the stairs and rush to lock himself in his bedroom before he could come across one of the persons he used to call parents. He hoped not to see Jonathan, or else he would be force to talk to him, telling him everything went fine with the herd. He knew how much the farmer and woodcutter hated hearing his voice. If he was fast enough, they would barely have time to notice his return before he reached his bedroom.

It was his plan, at least, but it didn't happen this way. Indeed, as he approched the front door, he heard voices from inside. Three voices. He recognized Jonathan, Mary and... Nigel, the village's chief. His heart shrunk and his shoulders tensed in worry. Had Franc said something to his father ? Wasn't it enough for him to beat up the white-haired boy, he had to tell lies to his father too ?

Full of worries, the boy debated if entering the house was a good idea, so he took the risk to eavedrop them, try and figure out why the chief was there.

''I'm counting on you, they must not see him.''

''Don't worry, chief.'' Jonathan assured. ''He'll spend the day in the mountains with the sheep, like usual. Noone will know he's even here.''

''This commercial visits from Burgess are extremely important for our village. It's thank to them we can procure the tools and food we need to survive winter. Without these exchanges... I can't take the risk, who knows how they'd react if they see him.''

''I understand, I-''

''So find something, Jonathan. Anything. Lock him in, if necessary.''

''There'll be consequences if I do...''

''Make him stay home, then-''

''No !'' Mary shouted.

The smash of a breaking plate on the floor echoed in the house, and a booming silence followed her scream. On the other side of the front door, the boy felt his heart break just like the plate, hearing his mother object so vehemently to his sole presence in the house for one day.

''There's no way I'm staying in the same room as him !''

''Mary, I understand it must be hard on you and your husband but-''

''No, chief. All due respect, you don't. You're not the one who lost your children. You're not the one who has to face this demon everyday. You're not the one who, when you see him, don't manage to remember right away he's not your son. Every time, he tricks me. Every time, during the first seconds, I see my boy, I think he's still there, as well as Emma... Then I see this ice cold gaze and I remember it's not him, it's nothing but a monster tourmenting me ! And his voice... Oh God, his voice...''

She stopped talking as sobs replaced her voice, he boy outside crying too. He pressed a hand on his mouth to try and hold back the sounds. So that was what she was thinking of him ? He had hoped she was only troubled by grief and only uneased in his presence. He had hoped that, beyond the sadness, she was still seeing him as her son and that, with time, she would open up again to him and get used to what he had become. He had been so wrong. She was just like the others. Why had he been hoping, exactly ? It was obvious noone was ever going to accept him.

Refusing to listen anything more, sniffing and wiping his face, he pushed the door open. As expected, everyone went silent once the door started to creak. He closed it slowly and rested the crook against the wall, then rushed to the stairs. He only picked the plate by mecanism.