The Evil That We Are

CHAPTER ONE

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

Little Melody stood behind Richard, trembling in anticipation. Mother had just given birth, and she couldn't wait to see the baby. She had not run home as most children her age would have, knowing all too well how the battle within her heart could be too easily tipped. She hadn't wanted to risk giving the demons a chance.

Instead she'd moved slowly, carefully. Trying to be graceful like Mother told her to be.

Richard shifted his weight, and Melody felt her breath catch – was it time? Could she see the baby now?

Richard turned to face her where she sat, trying not to kick her feet in excitement – Mother said it was unladylike. He lifted a corner of his mouth and held a hand out to her. Melody knew what the village girls said about her step-brother, and how they would sigh when he would smile. But she knew that these village girls only saw Richard's position, and how they would still gush all over him if had looked like one of the trolls from her stories. He had laughed when she said that.

She slid her petite hand into his own, and he gripped it tightly. Melody smiled in return, and felt a warmth flood her. It was not the same warmth that the village girls imagined when Richard would help them, for Richard was already fourteen, almost five years her elder. Melody knew she truly loved him, and would miss him when she had to marry her betrothed in six years' time. Richard loved her and protected her, it was him that convinced Mother and Father to wed her so late, instead of in only two years, when most girls of her station married.

Now Richard stood protecting her again – from herself. When Richard would hold her hand and pet her head, he would silence the ever-persistent monsters inside her. He knew to calm her before her resolve broke, and always did in time.

He pulled her gently out of the seat where they had both anxiously waited, listening to Mother's birthing screams since the sun's death upon the horizon.

Both brother and sister held deep bruises under their sagging, unfocussed eyes. Richard's callused fingertips gently rubbed over the flushed, raw flesh that Melody had wrung on her wrists as long as the moon had stood sentry.

Now, as Richard opened his cracked and bitten lips to speak, damaged from the night's worry, a croaking door's hinge interrupted him before he could utter a single sound. Out came the plump village midwife with a tired smile and tear soaked eyes.

Melody became of her own damaged lips, quavering with worry. What happened, why would the midwife be crying? Only the soothing grip of Richard's hand wrapped around her own kept her from shouting out the question in desperation, her lack of sleep fuelling her conflicting emotions.

But the elderly woman only opened the door wider and gestured to the two wide-eyed children. "M' lord, m' lil' lady, 'er Graceship tis askin' for yers." Her northern lisp was more prominent than usual, but the two understood straight away and rushed under her outstretched arm before they noticed any difference.

In the old, iron rocking chair, Father slumpedwith exhaustion, his eyes were barely open but his were arms strongly clutchingthe wrapped bundle against his steady heart.

He rocked gently, every time producing a slight creak as the dull metal rubbed against the ironwood floor. He looked up and smiled at his hesitant children, before tilting his head to the side. Father gestured with his eyes as well, moving them towards the shadows on his left.