The Art of Rebellion

The Escape Artist

Again, I'm dreaming of a memory. This time, I'm watching my younger self instead of being him, so it's even more depressing. I was only slightly older than in the previous dream, and I was playing with Alden just in front of the house, making him chase a ball of shadow I'd created. It hadn't taken me long to tell him all about the cool things I could do, but my parents forbade me from telling anyone else, and even prevented me from setting a foot off the front porch, afraid someone would break in again. Val and I were completely healed at that time, so the only physical reminder of the attack was on my friend's face; His right eye was missing. I'd done my best to try to heal it, but nothing happened. As far as his parents knew, it was my father who'd killed the intruder, saving our lives.

"I wish you could go horse riding with me," Alden said, looking at me. "It's boring doing it alone."

"Tell my parents that," the younger me, whom I'll now called Dream Kol, replied. "They hardly let me out of their sight, and they carefully inspect anyone who comes near me - even my aunt!" My, how the tables had turned. First he insisted on us staying inside and reading, and now he was the one begging me to go outside. Irony's a bitch.

"Yeah, but you've got magic now!" my friend said. "If anyone tries to hurt us, you can beat them up, right?"

Dream Kol shook his head. "You know that new religion doesn't like magic. I could be thrown into a dungeon." New religion? All this time, I thought it had been in Shura for a long while. How does the younger me even know that?

"It's lunch time, you two," Valerie declared as she stepped out, wearing one of her fancier dresses. Alden gave me a look, which I returned right before we both ran up to the older girl.

"Hey, Val, can you talk to mom and dad to let me go out? Please?" the little me begged, Alden nodding along. These days, I would just sneak out without even considering asking for permission.

"Come on, you two. What's wrong with staying inside?" my sister sighed.

"It's boring!" the two kids replied at the same time, looking determined. I wish those were my biggest worries right now.

"Ok, tell you what," Valerie started. "I hid the key to my diary somewhere in the house. If you manage to bring it to me, I'll talk to dad." Just dad. No need to mention mom, since she'd always been the weak one. Always sick. Always in bed. This meant dad was forced to be both the strict and the gentle one, which wasn't that easy.

"Ok!" Dream Kol exclaimed with a smile.

"Now get in. The food is getting cold," she ordered, shaking her head with amusement. I walk in through the walls, following the trio into the kitchen. My parents were already sitting at the opposite ends of the table, but their faces were blank. Figures, since I can't remember what they looked like even when awake.

"Do mind you don't eat too much, Valerie," mother said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "That dress is already too small for you." Ah, yes, their constant battles. It's true my sister was fat. She'd always been fat, and dad didn't care. It was always our prim and proper mother who scolded her. For a while, Val had been insisting on eating upstairs in her own room. This lasted a few weeks, and then I learned she'd been starving herself, throwing almost everything away. I'd promised not to tattle, then went to dad anyway, who managed to cheer her up and get her back to normal. Looking back, he was too weak with mother. He should've spotted it himself, and put it to a stop. I was too intimated by the woman to even consider talking back to her. I really should've.

"Yes, mother," Val replied, not even a ghost of her previous amusement left.

"Don't be silly," dad said. "She's a growing girl. You eat as much as you'd like, sweetheart." The two authority figures exchanged conflicting glances, which just makes me think he did try talking to her. I guess I don't remember them at all. I'm fighting to avenge people I can't even remember, and I'm among the people who are considered to be living good lives.