No Greater Love

Chapter Thirteen

I was in utter pain and shock as I was shoved brutally through the murky dungeon halls. As the torches upon the hall glowed solemnly I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact, His FATHER?! How? They don't even look alike! Not only that, but how could he not tell me?!

Suddenly I was thrown into a windowless, all-stone cell. In one corner was a reeking puddle and in the other was a screeching filthy rat. "Get in there." The jailer grumbled. After I was shoved into the dark, hopeless cell, the thick wooden door with bronze hinges was shoved shut.  There I was, cold, hungry, alone, and desperately needing a mother's care. Tears continued thier neverending flow as I asked myself, How could things get any worse? I hobbled to the rat's claimed corner. As he screeched I let my tears fall to the ground. Seeing them, he scurried to the tiny puddles and sipped them dry. "You're desperate too, huh little guy." I croaked. It felt like there was no one, no not one, person who could save me in my desperate need . I then, through my tears, looked up in my anguish and cried, "If there is a God, I need you to help me!" 

"Victoria!" I heard a raspy voice whisper. For a second I thought it was God answering me. 

I looked hastily around the room and asked, "W-Who said that?"

"It's me, Alex."

"Where are you?"

"Over here, in the corner."

After looking quickly in each corner, I crawled in much pain as the wounds split, over to the corner from which I heard his voice. 

"Down here." he whispered. As he whispered I felt a puff of warm air against my dirty skin. Grunting, I leaned down and beheld his ivy green eyes staring into mine. 

" I missed you." He whispered

"I missed you too; but why are you in a cell if you're the son of a lord?" 

"Oh that." He laughed quietly. "Well, I'm not technically his son, nor do I want to be."

I almost asked why not but then realized how senseless the question was. "How did you two cross paths? Why does he call you a son?"

"Well, it all started with my real father. My real father, if you must know, was an violent alchoholic and Mother left him when I was only a baby. She then met lord Amasa, who was a pleasant business man at the time."

At this I laughed.

"What?" He asked in an offended tone. 

"I'm sorry, he just doesn't seem like a business man to me."

"Oh, yeah I guess. Anyways, soon they married and I became his adopted son. I hated him though. The feelings were reciprocated with many thrashings for "rebelliousness" and such nonsense. One morning during a rampage of angry people, mad about politics and money and stuff, people were screaming mad with rage and breaking windows, entering homes, and even setting some barns on fire. Lord Amasa was a well-known business man and so, men found our home, broke in, had a fist fight with him which led my mother to let go of my five year old hand and stand in between them. One man, drunk and mad, shot her." As he said this I noticed a single tear slip down his face. "My mother loved Amasa. He was a brute, a  handsome brute. And she stood up for him because she loved him. Now, whenever he looks at me, he sees her in her frail body, standing in between a fist fight."

"Wow..." I breathed. "I'm sorry."

"No, no. You're fine. I just really really  loved my mother and when she gave her life for him, he didn't appreciate it. Nor did he deserve it."

"Yeah, I guess some crazy acts of love can only be seen as, well, crazy...to some people."

As he brushed away tears, he said, "Now you're turn."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me this: what happened after I gave you the note?"

"Oh, well, I read it. And then gaurds came and took me to go somewhere, probably the torture room," at this I shivered, " But I saw a torch of the wall. I grabbed it, flung it at the gaurd and ran up the stairs and to the cellar door. I went in the room and put lots of furniture behind it so they couldn't get in. But they said that if I didn't come out they would kill you. So, yeah. I'm here with a stinging bloody back."

"Really? You did that for me?"

"Yeah."

"You say you don't like me, but i'm thinking otherwise." He smirked and returned to his cell corner

"Whatever. I'm really confused about my feelings right now." I said sighing. I sat clutching my dirty and scraped knees trying to set my thoughts straight. Is this even right? Should I have left him to die? I shook this off because I knew of the gut feeling of guilt I would've felt after deserting him. Do what is right, not what is easy.