Boone's Memory: Caged
859 Words
Caged: Memory #5
It had been a few days since the cellar incident, and I was a witness to Eaden being scolded.
When the old man took Eaden away, I wondered where he took her.
Where did Eaden go to sleep? I know she slept in my room sometimes, and she said how comfortable the bed was, but I didn’t know.
I will ask her next time I see her.
…
Two days had passed, and it made me wonder if she was alright.
Part of me wanted to go look for her, but I would be punished far worse than her.
It was getting late anyway. I might as well just go to bed. I was sure that she would find me in the morning and I would ask her then.
I made it to my room, and I opened the door but stopped once I saw her sitting on my bed, rubbing her eyes.
“How long have you been in here?” I asked her.
She began to cry harder, and I frowned.
It seemed like she cried a lot, but she really didn’t.
“Not long,” she admitted.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
She looked up at me, confusion clear on her face.
“Why do you always want to sleep in here?”
She made a face, “I like it better in here.”
I watched as she fidgeted.
“Can I see your room?” I asked her.
Her gaze met mine, and her eyes were wide, “You don’t want to go there.”
“Why not?” I asked, “We always sleep in my room, why don’t we sleep in your room tonight?”
She was quick to shake her head.
“Why not?” I asked her, “Is it dirty?”
She hesitated, “I don’t have a bed.”
She doesn’t have a bed?
“Why not?” I demanded.
She bit her lip, “Because I am not human, I don’t get to sleep on a bed like a human.”
I stared at her, “I’m not human, and I sleep on a bed.”
She smiled lightly, “Really?”
“Really,” I said.
“You really want to see my room?” she asked.
I nodded, “I really do.”
I really did, I wanted to know what her personal space looked like. A person’s room tells you a lot about them.
She got to her feet, and she held her hand out to me.
I took her hand into my left one, I would have held her hand with my human one, but she always pushes that hand away.
It always makes me confused.
She led me to a part of the castle I had never been to. She led me up a flight of stairs, and I wasn’t even sure how high it was, but it started to make me nervous.
Finally, she stopped at the only door at the very top.
“This is your room?” I asked.
She nodded before releasing my hand to pull the door open.
The door opened slowly, and I stared wide-eyed at the sight before me.
The moonlight poured through the only window, and it made it so I could clearly see the massive birds nest that took up the whole room.
‘So?” she asked, looking at my face.
It was high up from the ground, it felt like a cage.
This room was a cage, she was just as much a prisoner as the rest of us, wasn’t she?
“This is cruel,” I said, keeping my gaze on the twigs and the larger pieces of wood.
“Cruel?” she asked, “Why?”
I walked in further, and I looked over the high side to see an almost perfectly rounded center.
There were a couple pillows and a few blankets, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
Her hand clasped mine, and I finally looked down at her.
“Why is it cruel?” she asked.
“You are not a bird,” I hissed, “You deserve a bed, a nice one.”
She smiled sheepishly, “You said you wanted to sleep in my room tonight.”
I did, and I was going to.
“Then let’s sleep,” I stated before lifting her over the side to place her in the center.
I climbed over, and she moved the blankets and pillows over so that it would be comfortable. It strangely was.
I laid flat on my back and stared at the ceiling, and she snuggled in my nook. I made sure to pull a blanket over her so that she didn’t freeze.
“Am I the first person you brought up here?” I asked her.
I felt her nod against me, “You’re my friend, right?”
I know I told her that I would never willingly be her friend, but I was angry when I said it.
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m your friend.”
I heard her giggle.
“And friends don’t read friends' minds,” I stated.
“Okay,” she said before I felt her touch my forehead.
“What did you just do?” I asked.
“I can no longer read your mind,” she stated.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Every time I try, I’ll hear myself reminding me not to,” she said.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“You’re my best friend, Boone.”
I felt bad. I didn’t know how to respond. She kind of was the only person I talked to, hung out with, let sleep in my bed.
“You’re mine, too,” I sighed before pulling her closer.
“I’m glad,” she yawned.
I had trouble sleeping that night, and I hated it.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the giant nest, and it made me hate that old bastard that she called her father. Why did Lucia allow this? I wanted answers.
- Writer
