Redemption

Chapter One: The Dream

The crowd was unruly in the square. They called for blood, the blood of my parents. I took in the scene with innocent eyes, not fully comprehending the situation playing out before me.

Holding my hand was my infant brother. He picked at the blades of grass growing just high enough to tickle his ankles, too young and naïve to understand that something was awry. I held him tightly, afraid I'll lose him among the chaos.

Adults thrusted past us, eager for a better view. I looked into the faces of the people standing closest to me, their expressions an array of outrage and gratification. They were so enthralled by the festivities, they didn't even notice the two small children standing in their midst, alone and afraid.

The multitude shuffled and, for just a moment, I caught a glimpse of a man and woman standing on the platform ahead. Their hands were secured to a concrete pillar, and cloth strips bound their mouths. Several guards surrounded them, ready to intervene, should it become necessary.

I wanted to run to them, to save them from their wretched fate, but it was too late. They had made their choice a long time ago, and now, they would have to pay retributions for it.

My view was obscured by a tall man with big, brown eyes. He stepped before me and lifted my brother into his arms. The man was familiar to me and when he says it's time to go, I do not hesitate to clutch his warm, russet hand.

We turned from the square and made our way to the end of the street, moving so swiftly that my small strides could hardly keep up. I turned to the square for a final view of the spectacle, surveying the elevated area where the man and woman stood.

The man smiled menacingly at the throng before him. He seemed to be enjoying the commotion, not an ounce of fear on his face as he scanned over the mob.

He met my curious stare and his eyes narrowed, cutting through me like a knife. I whimpered with terror for what felt like an eternity, before he finally looked away, bored with his intimidation game.

As I recuperated, my gaze drifted to the bright hazel eyes of the woman standing next to him. She stared past me to my large companion, who had also stopped for one last look. Anxiety was etched onto the woman's face. The man beside me nodded his head, a solemn sigh escaping his lips.

The woman's focus shifted to me, her eyes unwavering. She smiled warmly as a single tear fell down her cheek. Feelings of serenity and comfort washed over me, filling me with a sense of peace. But this tranquility lasts only momentarily, before a fiery torch is thrown at the woman's feet, setting the brush surrounding her ablaze.

The scream that escaped my mouth was unfamiliar.

"Momma!" the young girl's voice yelled.

The sound mingled with the cheers of the crowd, as I am whisked into the arms of the brown-eyed man. I looked over his shoulder one last time and see the woman's hazel eyes still staring hollowly at me, before she was engulfed in flames.

I woke with a jolt, gasping as I struggled to catch my breath. My heart palpitated so quickly, it felt as though it may explode.

I lay sprawled across my twin bed, my hands entwined around my pillow like a vice. Sticky perspiration had soaked into my hair, clinging to my skin like the morning dew.

I gave an involuntary shiver, despite the boisterous heat of the mid-August night. The nightmare, so realistic, reiterated in my mind with astounding detail. It felt more like a memory than a dream, as though I could actually feel the brush on my skin as strangers rushed past, could smell the smoke from the nearby chimneys, could feel the earth between my toes.

Of course, that was unlikely since I had never stepped foot in that small, rustic town. Hell, I had barely left the state of Maine during my sixteen years, let alone visited this primordial city where corporal punishments were still enforced. It had just been my overactive imagination, hard at work once again.

"Get it together, Lexi," I whispered. "It was just a dream."

I took a deep breath in an attempt to control the incessant shaking of my body, but I still found myself rattled by the nightmare.

I squinted at my bedside table- it was just after three o'clock in the morning.

Hoisting myself from my excessively warm bed, I walked to the bathroom and, began splashing handfuls of tap water on my face. The cool liquid felt pleasant on my feverish skin, and seemed to not only wash away the sticky sweat, but the graphic images from my mind as well.

I grabbed a towel and dried my face, staring at the image in the mirror. The nightmares had drained away what little color my pale skin managed to retain, causing the dark hair surrounding my face to look strange in contrast. It fell in messy waves down my back, the stray clumps sticking to my damp cheeks.

I scrutinized my reflection, lingering on my gaze for a long moment before looking away. My bright hazel eyes were identical to the woman's in my nightmare, something I didn't want to be reminded of.

Feeling flustered by the similarities, I hung my towel and hurried out of the bathroom.

I was almost back to my room when a light at the end of the dark hallway caught my attention. Why would my parents be awake at this hour?

I tiptoed toward their bedroom, the sound of nervous whispers causing me to stop in my tracks.

"You know I'm right, Chris. Lexi is entitled to the truth!" My mother said.

"I'm not saying that you're wrong, Abby, but what are we supposed to tell her? That we've been lying to her for her entire life?" My father asked.

"I know it's a delicate subject, but she needs to know. She has to understand how much danger she's in!" Abigail said. "We've already put this off for too long. Ready or not, she's going to find out soon enough. Her birthday is in two days, and you know what that means as much as I do. We can't wait any longer."

"You're right," Christopher sighed. "But we should wait until the morning. Lexi's whole world is going to be turned upside down soon. The least we could do is give her these last few hours of normalcy."

"Fine," Abigail muttered with a disinclined sigh.

I could see my mother's blurry silhouette, as she sat on the edge of their mattress. Christopher rubbed her shoulders comfortingly, and kissed her forehead.

"I know that you're worried. So am I. But we need to get some sleep if we expect to be any use to her," Christopher said softly, as he pulled back the duvet cover. "The next few days with be the most challenging yet, and we need to be ready. Let's go to bed."

My mother reluctantly agreed. I heard the click of their bedside lamp, and the room went dark.

Treading softly down the hallway, I climbed back into my bed. I stared at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom, my mind reeling.

What secrets were my parents keeping from me, and why were they so hesitant to tell me the truth? Yes, my seventeenth birthday was approaching, but what was so special about that? Why did they think that I was in danger?

My thoughts raced through the conversation until exhaustion overpowered me, and I fell into a fitful sleep full of bright hazel eyes, and men with no faces.

Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying this story so far, don't forget to vote! :)

© Dawn Norwell