Enthrallment : The Twisted Trust

PROLOGUE

" please don't "

" Please come back to me"

“Please, don’t leave me"

He pleaded, his voice cracking with despair. Tears streamed down his face as he dropped to his knees, clutching at the air as if trying to grasp the fleeting fragments of her presence.

      .........................................

The sunlight poured through my window, waking me up from the same voice I hear every night in my dreams.

The deep voice of a desperate, hollow man in the pitch black.

Sometimes he pleads, sometimes he begs, sometimes he threatens, and sometimes he rages, always asking for someone to stay.

But today, it was different. The intense emotions that usually accompany the dream felt distant, like a faraway memory.

I'm exhausted from having this dreadful dream every night. I woke up with tears in my eyes, my heart feeling as if it were being clenched by an invisible hand.

As if I'm that man—

I know what he's feeling,

I understand his anguish.

I glanced at the clock: 6:55 a.m.
Damn it. I needed to hurry, or I'd miss breakfast. It was a rule in my house—or rather, a rule specifically for me. If I wasn't downstairs before 7 a.m., I'd be denied breakfast. I leapt out of bed and dashed downstairs as quickly as I could.

My dad and brother were already seated at the table.

Dad had dark brown hair and eyes, while Mom had blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. My brother inherited Dad's hair and features but Mom's eyes.
I was the odd one out, inheriting nothing from either of them.

My pitch-black hair, which people called dark as the dark moon, was enough to earn me the label hex  from everyone in the village. Born on the 32nd night—the devil night—and with hair the same color as that ominous black moon,

I was marked from the start.

I took a seat at the table, as far from Dad as possible. He didn't like me near him. He grunted as soon as he sensed my presence, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. He started cursing under his breath.

Mom, busy cooking breakfast in the kitchen, called out softly,
"Honey, please... it's morning."

"Just shut up," he snapped.

"Do you know how it feels to leave the house every day and be known as the one who brought the hex to this village? How would you know? You’re always locked in this goddamn house while I face all those accusations. Even though it was your womb that birthed this hex."

Ouch. Does it hurt? Well, actually, no.

When you've been hearing it since birth, you get used to it. It doesn't bother me anymore.

My brother, who had been silently eating, suddenly stood up angrily and rushed out of the house."Son! Listen... Oh God, he didn't have anything to eat... it's all your fault."

Of course, it was my fault.
Everything that happens is my fault.

If a glass breaks, it's my fault.

If there's a leak, it's my fault.

If someone gets sick, it's my fault. If someone's heart breaks, it's my fault.

If someone dies, it's my fault.

Fault.
Hex.
Fault.
Hex.

A sudden crash shattered the silence, followed by heavy footsteps echoing through the house.

"Who the hell is it?" my father's voice boomed with alarm.

Moments later, a group of men stormed inside, their chests adorned with the emblem of three horned horses—the crest of the king's highest-ranking guards known for their precision and ruthless efficiency.

Before anyone could react, one of them, with a crooked nose, advanced towards my mother. With a swift motion, he drew his sword and swung it in a deadly arc, severing her head from her shoulders. Her lifeless gaze, once as deep as the ocean, faded into emptiness as her head thudded to the ground.

My father screamed in anguish, a sound that pierced the air and my heart. In that moment, I realized he did love her, despite the countless insults he hurled at her daily. Maybe he did love her, but I had been the wedge that drove them apart.

I was a bane to their relationship.

As I stood there, watching my mother’s lifeless body and my father sobbing like a child, I felt an emptiness inside me.

Was it sadness? Every day, I had prayed for the death of everyone in this village, including my own family, who had treated me worse than an animal

Even a stray dog receives a loving pat on the head.

My entire life, I had been cast aside, insulted, bullied, and hated for something beyond my control.

Before I could process any emotions, another soldier thrust his sword through my father's heart.

Blood gushed from his chest, flooding the floor with red.

All I could see was red--red everywhere, yet, I felt nothing.

Nothing for him.

Nothing for her.

Once they had finished with my parents, a man with hair as shiny as gold and eyes as red as blood, devoid  of any emotions, stepped forward. He walked past their lifeless bodies, his boots splashing in the spilled blood and approached me.

Raising his hand, he demanded,

"Give me one reason why I should spare your life".

I stood there, unable to speak.

Speak, speak, speak, I urges myself.

But as I struggled, my mind began to fade into endless darkness...

...............................................................................................

* Hex - curse