Expanded Horizons: Beyond the Blue

In the Ring: Chapter One

Idara sat quietly in her room, trying her best to keep her sobbing to minimal volume. The cold, barren room bounced every noise off the wall seemingly a thousand times, and she didn't want to disturb Gren, lest he come to make her quiet once again.

Idara had her stuffed Dusker in a vice grip in her arms, the last thing she had left of her mother before she passed. Her mother's terminal sickness hit Gren hard, and Idara didn't want to make it worse for him by sharing her sadness, so she clung to her mother's memory with everything she had. It was the only thing keeping her grounded any more.

Idara got up from her hay mattress, still clinging to Dusky, and tiptoed to her door to glance outside. She couldn't see Gren, but she could hear the clinking of bottles hitting the table in the next room. She knew better than to try and get a snack after dinner while he was awake, and decided it would be best to wait.

Her feet slapped quietly against the cold concrete floor, just another sacrifice that had been made in an attempt to treat her mother's sickness. Almost everything was gone; most of the furniture, the rugs, drawers, toys, so much sold off to put every last tin into treatment. And it was all in vain.

Idara went to her window and looked out and up at the sky, praying she might see a real Dusker, or an All-Seer, or something, anything, that could fix things. Not a cloud in the sky, just the uninterrupted cosmos and its stars. The same stars most people were looking at, at least across the Freelands.

Out in the street, most of the usual passersby walked about, sometimes throwing sad glances at the once-magnificent house. Dying plants, broken fence, unkempt yard, a  terrible sight to see. The home of a magnificent singer, torn down by disease and loss, with nothing left to show but an angry adoptive father and the girl no one would help.

Idara spotted a strangely plain-looking man smiling at the house, seemingly looking right at her window. He raised a hand, exciting Idara and drawing her to think he was waving. As she raised her hand to try to wave back at the man in the black beret, she heard loud, drunken footsteps in the hall and ran back to bed, forgetting all about the one man who somehow stood out.

Idara slipped under the thin sheet and clung to Dusky for life as she heard her door open. It didn't slam or explode open, but it didn't creep open, either. For a moment, soft light came in, and then, it went away as quickly as it came. Idara released air she did not know she had captive as her hand instinctually moved to the tender spot on her cheek.

"I miss you, mommy," she said quietly, tears streaming from her eyes.

She never really knew Gren before her mother passed, but knowing him now, she had no idea why her mother liked him. He wasn't nice, not to anyone. He was having a hard time, but so was she, and he would never help her with anything. He wouldn't tell her things, he wouldn't let her be. Somehow, everything was always her fault.

Idara listened carefully, and when she could no longer hear Gren walking about, she got back up, leaving Dusky on the bed, and started moving for the door again. As she approached, she slowed her steps to a crawl and peaked out the cracks between the door and each side of the door frame. With no sign of Gren, she slowly opened the door and moved down the hall to the kitchen.

She ate all her dinner, but she was still hungry. Gren's dinner was hardly the same as her mother's, never nearly as filling, either of her or her plate. She carefully opened the fridge, barely cracking it open to keep the flickering light from turning on, and reached around for whatever she could get. When her hand found the peanut butter, she swiped it up and went to her usual hiding spot in the kitchen by the sink to eat up.

Before long, though, she heard footsteps returning, and her heart sank. She stuffed as much peanut butter into her mouth as she could and closed the lid, hiding some of the smell and getting what she could before Gren came in. She dared not leave her spot now, or surely he would catch her. She could only pray he hadn't looked into her room again.

When he walked through the door, greasy green hair and bark-toned skin barely visible in the light, she kept the door just barely cracked open to keep an eye on him. He shuffled and stumbled about, browned out at the very least, trying to pick up the beer bottles he left on the table. Idara thought it was strange, but didn't question it. At least he wouldn't take a bottle to her when he told her to clean it the next day like usual.

"Poverty living," he grumbled. "Went from bein' the easy-livin' arm candy to a damn model and singer, to... to.... To, some overhyped babysitter." Idara swallowed a lump in her throat. "... not how life's s'posed to go..."

Slowly, he took the bottles and moved to the next room where the big trash can was, but Idara heard him crash, stumble, and fall to the ground, bottles clinking all about and him cursing his luck. She took her opportunity and rushed out of the cabinet in the noise, placed the peanut butter where she found it on the third shelf, and ran back to her room. Once there, she eased the door shut and rushed back to bed.

She pulled her sheets up and over herself and clung back onto Dusky as she heard Gren start to yell, scared that he would blame Idara for his troubles again. Over the following hour, though, Idara heard no sound from outside her door, and eventually succumbed to sleep, no longer able to see Gren coming or know what he was going to do.

Of course, in a lot of ways, that was better. It wasn't like she could hope to escape anyway.