Rewriting His Past

Black Family

Waking to the sound of his own muffled screams. Dusk shot upright, and his blanket, soaked from his sweat, pooled around him. Adding to the uncomfortable damp that clung to his shaking skin. His fingers throb, spitting out a mouthful of his own blood. He knew exactly why his fingers stung. Tossing the blanket to the side, he slid out of his narrow bed. Quieter than a mouse. His fingers bled from the marks his own teeth had made. Even when unconscious, he knew no one could hear him scream. No one.

His room was a good size, smaller than both his elder brother's and younger sister's rooms. Still good enough for him. The house was old, and Dusk walked the old floor boards with practiced ease. Avoiding any boards that would sigh with age. Simple in its furnishing and adorned all in black. Dusk could say he didn't like his room, but it was easy to manage. Given how even the servants avoided him, or more, they avoided the cost of showing him any kindness.

Walking up to a small vanity, he sat on the black wooden chair. A little too small for him, Dusk believed it had once been his mother's when she was a girl. Dusk opened a small box that sat right next to the mirror. Inside were not toiletries, make-up, or fancy colognes, but bandages and ointments. His father would call on a physician, but Dusk couldn't take any more looks of pity he would receive from them. They could heal him, but they couldn't save him. That was the only thing he could do.

Applying a thick ointment stopped the bleeding. Wrapping them tight, he assured himself they would heal fast enough. Looking into the mirror, Dusk had a hard time believing he was part of the Black family. Raising his bandaged hand, he touched the smooth mirror. A little paler than healthy, his blue eyes looked faded and tired. His short blond hair was a tangled mess on top of his head. Picking up the comb that lay on the tablet top, Dusk started the task of getting ready for the day. Managing his hair back into his natural side part

The only blond in his family. It was the start of his downfall; being a mage by blood, that was the fast track to his current place in hell. Mage blood is an occurrence rarer than a blue moon. When great magic blessed a child, it erased any traces of genetic ties. Dusk had more similarities to a changeling. Instead of a fae playing tricks, it was pure magic taking its place. Placing the comb down, Dusk unbuttoned his pajamas and folded them onto the vanity. Grimacing, he caught sight of his back in the mirror.

His back was nothing but a crisscross of braided flesh. Scars of his elder brother's whippings. Turning away, he wasn't even bothered by the dark purple scar. That ran in a spiderweb pattern off his shoulder and upper arms. Which was a gift he had received from his younger sister. Dusk went to the large upright wardrobe and picked out a black dress shirt. His clothing, like the room, was simple and black. Like his room, he was fine with it, but if he had a choice, he would go without it.

Today, let's hope all that changes. Dusk went to his window. Pushing himself inside the thick black curtains. That covered not only his windows but every window in the house. He rejoiced in the natural green light of dawn that lit up the world. This place prefers the dark of night and the glow of candles too much. His thoughts turned into a sigh he couldn't let loose from his lips. I'll be free soon. Dusk couldn't stand up to his family, but he could run from them.

First, he had to get out of the house. Not the easiest of feats. A tapping on the window brought his attention down. One of the courtyard crows had come to peck at his window. Shaking his head, he watched the feathered creature peck at his reflection. Stepping back, Dusk stepped away from the window, making sure the curtain was back in place. He slipped on his shoes, which he kept at the foot of his bed. Before heading to his door, dawn was the start of his day, but the end of theirs. Making it his best chance to leave.