The Last Herald (english version)

A Child's Grief

English is not my first language so you will probably find some errors. My apology! But I hope you can still enjoy this story.

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Soulmates - souls destined for each other. This happiness is given to everyone in the world, you just have to grab it.
Some are born with their soulmate's name, others have to wait years for something to come along, and others still remain without a mark until the end of their lives.
Being a soulmate is not love at first sight. You have to work at it, nurture the tender little plant until it becomes a strong, indomitable tree.

Amelia Wardstone's life did not begin in the arms of a loving mother.

As a newborn, she was left on the doorstep of her current family, and as self-proclaimed good Christians, they took the child in, unaware that Amelia was no ordinary human being.
It was a huge shock when they unwrapped the little girl from the blanket. Whispered words of "curse" and "drowning her in the river" were heard, but in the end they saw it as God's test.

Amelia could remember the first time she really noticed the three names on her left forearm, even though she had them since birth.

It was a sweltering summer day in Hope County. Her parents and brother sat on the porch, hoping for a cool breeze, while four-year-old Amelia sat in her room, wrapped tightly in loose, shapeless clothes. The heat made her skin itch, and all warnings and threats from her mother were forgotten.
She went down and outside to ask for a glass of lemonade, pulling up the sleeves of both her arms. Of course, as she did so, the three names imprinted on her skin could be seen, much to her mother's shock. Because no one was ever to know that the girl had three soulmates.

The disregarding of warnings of small children has nothing to do with malice, Amelia was not acting out of spite, the weather was simply too hot, but her family thought otherwise.
Her mother grabbed the girl's skinny arm and, with a stoic expression, held the underside of a scalding hot pan over the three names.

The scream was reportedly heard at the far end of Fall's End.

Amelia has never forgotten the pain.

By the time she was six, she had to know the entire Bible by heart and recite it at night before being locked in her room. If she made a mistake or couldn't remember something, she was punished with the belt.

She almost always got the belt.

"For your own good, child! Sin must be kept in check because there is no salvation for someone like you. God has given us the task of punishing the demon inside you!" her father repeats over and over as she laid curled up and whimpering on the bed.

When she was eight, she often overheard other classmates talking about soulmates. She was curious but afraid to ask, so instead she would sneak out during school breaks and go to the library to read up on the subject, that fascinates her.

When she was ten, her older brother also began to abuse her from time to time. Not as badly as her parents, of course, but it was usually the little things that hurt the most. He blamed her for actions she had never committed, chase her around town with his friends for hours until she would give up and just lie down on the floor and hope it would all be over soon.

At twelve, she avoided eye contact with loving couples, happy families and children playing together. She couldn't bear to see what she would never have.
Sometimes she would fantasise about someone hugging or even kissing her. She wondered if her three soulmates had ever kissed anyone. Have they loved anyone?
She quickly pushed the thought away.

At fifteen, she buried her dream forever. No one would come to love her, to save her, to rescue her from her predicament, because God himself had given her this punishment. Her family confirmed this day after day. She was a monster, a freak, a demon, as her father claimed when he used the belt to color the skin on her body red in his rage.
Everyone in Fall's End suspected the abuse, but they all looked away.
Sometimes she hesitantly touched her back, which was smooth and straight on a normal person, but Amelia always had to hide her shame under long robes. Her devil's mark, as her father called it, had to remain hidden, just like the three names on her arm.

At sixteen, she was a shadow of her former self. Fear her constant companion, grief her best friend. Only her books, bought, found or stolen, brought her some peace. She read everything she could get her hands on, at night when the darkness offered some pease and protection.

At eighteen, she learned to laugh again, thanks to Mary May. A tender friendship grew between the two women, and whenever Amelia had to go to the Spread Eagle to get food for her family, Mary would tell her the craziest, sometimes even the most vicious stories to pass the time.

During this time, she began to gain a little more courage, to rebel a little, without her parents knowing. They no longer locked her room from outside, and the window in the hallway was always open a crack.
It was easy for her to get outside. Early in the morning, before the sun rose, she would return from her wanderings, more tired and exhausted than before, but a little happier to have enjoyed a bit of freedom.

At nineteen, she knew her family would eventually kill her. She could never escape them. Where would she go? The small part-time job in the bookstore that her parents had allowed her to take for a year, had allowed her to save some money, but that's it. The small amount hidden under one of the floorboards was never going to be enough to start a new life. She didn't know the world out there well enough to survive on her own, and the stories in her books were all so different. What was real, what wasn't?

No, she would never outlive her family, that was as sure as night follows day.

Eventually, her father would shoot her, beat her to death, or break her neck and throw her body parts into the small incinerator that stood outside in the yard.

She just waited for it to happen.

At twenty, a spark began to grow in her. Faint and tentative at first, like the sigh of a newborn. She couldn't place it, couldn't let it go. Some days it felt like a nagging itch in her brain. She couldn't reach it, couldn't push it away.
It just frightened her and encouraged her to say no to her old life and yes to something new.

One night she decided to loosen the bandages on her arm and stared at the three names. She hadn't looked at them for years.

Her forearm was a battlefield. Adorned with the various burns and cuts her parents had inflicted, the black ink of her soulmates still shone through. Each letter as jet black and perfect as on the first day, without blemish, without flaw.

Jacob Joseph John

She stroked the words gently. Jacob's name looked as if it had been written in a hurry, with slanted letters and sharp edges.
Joseph was written in small, precise letters, as if they had been measured, but John was drawn with sweeping, fine lines.

Tears dripped on the names and the pain began to swell in her chest. Amelia covered her mouth with her hand so as not to cry out or, God forbid, wake anyone.

The spark inside her flickered like a candle flame in a storm.

She was deluding herself. She didn't understand God's plan. She didn't understand the path he had prepared for her. Feelings of anger, incomprehension, jealousy and panic coursed through her body.

All Amelia knew was that this hope, this spark inside her had to die quickly, but she wanted to be weak once, just this one night, and dream one last time. She didn't put the bandages on that night, instead she buried her face in her arms, brushed her lips over the three names and surrendered to her fantasies.

One last time, she swore to herself, before she nipped it all in the bud.

She slept peacefully, dreaming of sweet songs and three pairs of blue eyes that looked at her with love and warmth, as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world.

The spark survived the storm and caused a glimmer in the ashes. Inconspicuous and silent, it waited until its time had come to finally become a blazing fire.