Undone by a Broken Angel

19.) Memories

"Where once I heard Joyful music, now I hear only mourning and weeping."

-Job 30:31

Abraham:

He’s never seen anyone change the city hall so easily before.  He’s amazed at how things come so naturally to her.  She made it so that the room turned into a forest of sorts with the sunlight streaming through the treetops.  She’s sitting on the soft grass, leaning against a tree as she concentrates on the first book Nathanael gave to her.  He trusts that she’s fine on her own, so he leaves her to her studies.

Don’t leave her!  Go back and r**e her, pull at her hair, cut her up!  He needs space from her now.  He can’t always be pushing back the voice with her constantly by his side.  It’s too dangerous and he’s pushing his luck.  One of these times he’s going to slip like he did at that one inn and it will be over forever.  He won’t let himself be responsible for it.

He decides to go discuss things with Nathanael.  What if the others are having the same problem that his brother is having?  He knew it was a mistake to separate them, but he can’t speak his mind.  No one trusts him.  He doesn’t trust himself.

He finds Nathanael preparing dinner.  He’d help, but he doesn’t cook.

“How is she?” Nathanael asks.

“Fine.  She’s settled in and reading.  I came to speak with you.  Have you received any more letters?”

“Yes.  From Paul.  He’s called them all to the bunker to regroup before coming here.”

Paul is Abraham’s closest friend.  He’s closer to him than his own brother.  If something has happened to him, he’d leave in a heartbeat.  It sounds like he’s okay, but he may have sent that letter at the same time he received Abe’s message.  He always traveled with Paul by his side, but once again, Nathanael decided to separate them all, a mistake that he’ll never live down now.

Nathanael senses his anger and continues to speak, “I’m concerned that they’re evolving again.  You know it’s time.”

He does know.  It’s a race against time for Abby to get educated and married.  He knows better than Nathanael that she won’t do anything she’s not ready to do and he’s not going to be the one to explain it to her.  He can’t do that to his broken soul.

---

Abagail:

The book that I’m trying to get through is a translation book. It translates my native language- Italian- to falcone.  It’s fascinating.  Every time I learn a new word, I suddenly read it in Italian.  It’s as if my brain is translating it for me.  I’m excited. I blow through the book and go on to the next.  Every book I read is in Italian.  Or is it falcone?  After I finish all three books, I go back to the village for supper.

The three of us sit quietly.  Nathanael doesn’t know that I explored the city.  I’m thankful for that not because of my guilt for not telling him, but because it triggered something inside me.  I’m on the verge of remembering something.  I can feel it.  It’s like there is a wall of emotions being held back by my fears. What if I can’t handle the truth?  Obviously my mother and father died for me.  I remember her running off to her death to keep the reapers from finding me.  Who was she?  Could she really have been the lost queen?  Was I really born into royalty?  Could I really be a true princess?  What was she like, my mother?  If she was so respected that all of the city abandoned their homes to go protect her, how do I expect to measure up to her?  She was so great, yet I feel so small.

“You need to eat,” Nathanael reminds me.

I’ve been pushing around my peas, lost in my thoughts.  I set my fork down and take a deep breath.  “I’m sorry. I’d like to go lay down.”

---

Abraham:

Abraham senses Nathanael is about to speak his concerns, but stops him.  “I know she’s stubborn.  We all are, it’s in our blood.  It’s her first day, give her space.  She’ll come around.”

“How do you think you know her so well?”

Abraham shrugs.  “I just do.”

“She’s definitely Katrina’s daughter, but she hasn’t shown an ability yet.  Have you seen any indication of one?”

“Nathanael, her ability will present itself at the right time, you know that.  She’s not ready yet.  She’s only seen reapers once and she didn’t get very close.  I think she’s sensitive to them, but I doubt that’s her ability.  I remember Katrina falling ill around them too.”

“Pure bloods are more sensitive to the evil of the reapers,” Nathanael confirms.  “You’d know that if you’d read.”  He gives Abe a pointed look.

“She gets uncomfortable around me too,” he murmurs into his food.

Nathanael doesn’t say anything.  Then finally, “we need her ability.  It might save us, Abe, and you know it.  Perhaps she needs a push.”

He finds Abigail asleep in her bed where she should be. He smiles and lets her sleep, ignoring the voice that once again flairs up in his mind.

In the middle of the night, he is awoken by a knock on his door.  He pops up thinking the worst has happened to his brother and the others.  “What?” he yells.

“It’s just me,” a soft whisper says.  He sees her small frame hugging his door frame, her shift hanging loose about her exposed knees.

“Oh.  What is it?  Did you have a bad dream?” he asks after calming down.

“No.  I...I remember.”

“What?  What do you remember?” She has his full attention, and he tries to force his eyes away from her bare legs and arms and onto the important information she is about to tell him.

“Many things.”

“Come, sit down,” he says sitting up. 

She gets positioned next to him and stares at the floor.  He is very aware that they are together in his bed.

“I remember my mother.  We were in a dark room lit by many candles when my mother came  in and took my hand.  It was a simple act, but it was so warm, so wonderful,” she says quietly.

“And?”

“I remember there was a little boy there too, older than me.  He had cute dimples and a cheerful smile.  We’d play in the endless corridors.”

“What else?”  He’s trying to figure out why it was so important for her to share this information with him at such a late hour.  And he’s also lost in her once forgotten memories.

“A different memory.  Just a song.  A simple song sung by the most beautiful voice:

Don’t cry, baby girl

Don’t weep for me.

Smile, my baby girl

Smile and have joy.

Wake in the morning,

Wake next to me.

Laugh, my baby girl,

Laugh and be merry.

Fly with the birds,

Fly high with me.

Soar, my baby girl,

Soar and be free.

Sleep precious girl,

Sleep through the night.

Dream, my baby girl,

Dream and have peace.”

Her voice is pure, strong, and beautiful.  It sounds as if it came straight from the mouth of an angel.  And oddly enough, the song’s melody matches that of the tune she hummed long ago in her sleep, the song he came to know very well.  As her voice soars in the space around them, the voice inside him becomes very angry.  It swears and screams, orders him to snuff her life out just to stop her.  His body is on fire and it's painful, so very painful.  It’s everything he has in him to stop himself from doubling over in pain or letting a strangled moan escape between his lips.

“And another memory.  Just a painting,” she continues, oblivious to his struggle.

“What does it look like?”  He tries to sound normal, but his voice sounds wrong, like he's talking between clenched teeth.

“The portrait in the palace, but it’s not where it should be.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, completely confused.

“It isn’t where it should be,” she insists, on the verge of having an emotional meltdown.

He takes a quick look inward.  Despite the pain, the voice in his mind seems to be muted now, subdued, and he feels more in control than he ever has before.  Steeling himself to his decision, he soothes her by rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms with a “shhhh, don’t worry about it tonight.  We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”  

She nods sadly and he tucks her against him, holding her head close to his chest, feeling her quiet sobs rack through him.  They fall asleep together, comforting each other into a restful night.