Numb: The Genesis

I. Pious

My hands rested on my lap. They were exposed. Cracking. Peeling. They stung after enduring the winter's storm.

Staring at them, I chuckled to myself, "Monster."

A monster.

I was locked in, hidden in the shadows. The darkness stroke me as a familiar sight. A familiar place. Then I started seeing things. I shut my eyes. I began to hear things. I covered my ears. It's the closet! No, not again! Why has my mind led me here? To the dreaded... Closet...

"Don't open it! The monster hides in the closet, remember? You can't let the monster out! He will hurt you!" It was one of their voices. I couldn't distinguish between them. They all sounded the same.

"Let me out! I'm not the monster! You have to believe me!" I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I hit my fists on the wooden door. I had already tried punching the door open; my knuckles were scratched, barely bleeding. "I'm your brother!"

"Brother? You lie!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Lies. Lies. Lies," all their voices, chanting.

"I'm your little brother! Why would I lie to you?!" I heard the bedroom door outside creaking shut, "Please don't leave me... Please..."

I slept in the closet that night. It was until the next morning I was freed. It was my mother. When she opened the door to me, I embraced her with all my might whilst crying.

"Hush, child... Look at you... Don't weep. You were strong," she put her hand on the back of my head as she held me, "My son. My Hans... Don't let this freeze your heart. I have to go now... Get washed up for breakfast, dear."

I stood back up and gave her a brief hug. She hurried out my room. I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my sleeves.

--

It was an eventful day. I studied from my books, practiced my etiquette, went horseback riding, and began my fencing lessons. I was winded, and it was time for slumber. But I stayed awake. I waited for my mother's arrival.

She opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. Her eyes were tired, and she held a book under her arm and a candle in her hands. She smiled, "My little Hans. Ready for a story?" She sat next to me as I curled up by her arm. My mother liked to tickle me on the neck, and so she did. I laughed loudly, but she covered my mouth, "Shh, you're going to wake up the whole palace! Now listen and we'll begin."

She opened the book and drew in a deep breath, "Ah, so Grimm's Fairy Tales. Which one do you prefer for tonight?"

"Hmm... I like Cinderella."

"Ok, darling," she grinned and licked her finger to flip the pages, "Let's see, page forty-seven. Ah, here we go.

"A rich man's wife became sick, and when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, 'Dear child, remain pious and good, and then our dear God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you.' With this she closed her eyes and died.

"The girl went out to her mother's grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good... See, Hans, no matter the circumstances, the girl remained pious and good. Remember that."

I nodded eagerly so she can continue, "Yes, Mamma!"

"These tales can teach you morals and lessons. And remember, the hero or heroine is always rewarded a happy ending; and the villain is otherwise. Got that, Hans?" She tickled me again and continued:

"When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

"This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew very bad for the poor stepchild.

"'Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor with us?' they said. 'If she wants to eat bread, then she will have to earn it. Out with this kitchen maid!'

"They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. 'Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!' they shouted and laughed as they led her into the kitchen.

"There she had to do hard work from morning until evening, get up before daybreak, carry water, make the fires, cook, and wash. Besides this, the sisters did everything imaginable to hurt her. They made fun of her, scattered peas and lentils into the ashes for her, so that she had to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had worked herself weary, there was no bed for her. Instead she had to sleep by the hearth in the ashes. And because she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella... It's getting really late, we'll be continuing this some other time," she yawned as she closed the book.

"But they are so mean to her..."

"I know, Hans."

"Cinderella must always feel so hurt... Can we read just a teensy-weensy bit more?"

"I'm sorry, dear... It's so late in the night. You have to rest and so do I. C'mon, it's your big day tomorrow! Hmm, how old are you going to be?"

"Six!"

"Another year older, Hans," she tucked me in, "Now, go to sleep." She brushed the fringe from my forehead and softly kissed it. She held the candle and book in her hands as she opened the door. Her gentle but tired eyes looked into mine, "Goodnight, Hans. I love you with all my heart."

"I love you with all mine, Mamma."