A Modern Myth

by Clara Wake

  Nickolai slowly and silently heads downstairs. The succulent aromas that spread through the house are divine, and he’s never smelled anything like it. His stomach instantly rumbles and growls at him, he knew he was hungry – he was always hungry – but he has no idea what is in store for him, as he slowly steps into the kitchen and stands in the door frame.

  Desmond’s too busy to notice Nickolai, watching him from afar. Stirring away at the sauce on the stove and humming to himself, he turns slowly only to jump out of his skin, startled from seeing Nickolai there. leaning against the door frame and watching him with a confused expression.

  “Oh, hey!” He recovers from the initial mini-heart attack and sighs deeply, before smiling brightly and pins his eyes down on the island in the middle of the kitchen: plates, dishes, and bowls full of every kind of food you’d want.

  “Dig in! Take whatever you want!” He gestures for Nickolai to start ahead of him, as he finishes off the bolognese sauce, stirring away and giving it a quick taste. He smacks his lips with a hum of satisfaction before he switches the stove off and brings the pan over to pour over the steaming pasta.

  The island top consists of all kinds of dishes, from various pasta, and salads, to curries and steaks and side dishes. With chicken nuggets, fries, and all sorts of foods Nickolai has no idea about. Desmond finishes and hands Nickolai a large platter to take whatever he wants, but he’s motionless.

  “Nickolai, please. Take anything and everything you want. I made it all for you. I know Jake did everything he could to keep you fed – and I’m doing the same, so don’t hold out.” He softly and sincerely speaks to him in a low and gentle tone, assuring that he is allowed and able to eat as much and as often as he wishes.

  His eyes are drawing across the many delicious foods that are spread across the island top in awe at all the food, the food he missed. His stomach is even louder now, yet he is still afraid to take anything.

  Soon, Desmond leaves the room with his own plate, taking it to the dining table to eat. He leaves Nickolai to himself, yet he watches from a distance – just hoping he’ll eat and gain some weight. He is lean, and he could swear if he saw him without a shirt, he’d see the boy’s ribs.

  Eventually, Nickolai cautiously takes a seat across from Desmond with a mountain full of food before him. He slowly sits down, and stares at it for a moment before he carefully begins to eat. Once he does, he doesn’t stop—like a Rottweiler that almost inhales its food. Nickolai has never eaten so much, so fast and he is ready to take another plate. So many different textures and flavours his stomach and tongue are so pleased and happy.

  Desmond watches in surprise, seeing just how hungry he truly is, yet he smiles so proudly that he could convince him to eat and feel comfortable enough to do so in front of him. He half expects him to run back upstairs and eat, but he doesn’t. Internally, he’s screaming with the joy of making progress. Little by little, he doesn’t care – as long as he feels safe.

  “If you want more, go ahead.” Desmond makes sure Nickolai knows he’s able to eat as much as he pleases, watching him with hesitation draining his eyes as he stares at his empty plate.

  “Can I ask you something?” Nickolai finally speaks, with his eyes soon darting from his plate up to meet those familiar eyes, a pout on his face as he asks.

  “Of course, anything.” Desmond responds, pushing his plate aside and relaxing more into his chair. He knows the boy has so many questions, and he is willing to answer every one.

  “How do you know so much about me?” Nickolai asks, just the first of the many burning questions creating an inferno in his mind.

  Desmond smiles at him and sighs softly. “Jake found me, I don’t know how. He’s a computer whiz or something.” He shrugs there before continuing.

  “He tracked me down, and we’ve been e-mailing since,” he starts.”I did try to find him, but the encryption with the E-mails from the source was too strong for me to cypher. I-I did everything I could to locate him” He felt the need to explain why he hadn’t found Jake sooner or at all. The guilt is always at the back of his mind, what if he gave up too early even though he tried everything in his power to find him. Swallowing the scratch at the back of his throat, Although everything he just said went straight through one ear and out the other with the clueless look on the elfs face, clearly not as tech savvy as Jake.

  “He’d told me all about you, how they treated everyone – you – specifically, and how you protected him and cared for him,” He pauses and feels his throat tightening.

  “He called you his brother.” He stops there, with a staggered breath as his chest aches. They both have no idea what Jake’s fate is, however; Nickolai has more of an insight, but he is too afraid to share it with Desmond.

  After all, it's all his fault, to begin with. Jake didn’t have to do what he did, and Nickolai didn’t even have the chance or time to protest and stop him. Still, it is his fault, and he’s responsible for whatever fate Jake is exposed to.

  Nickolai is left to his own thoughts, while Desmond’s words carve through his chest. Clenching his jaw, he can feel the dread start to fold over him, making him feel completely uncomfortable and scared. He gets up slowly and attempts to fix another plate for himself, trying to shake the painful feeling that flushes through his chest.

  Nickolai has been drowning in pure guilt ever since Jake guided him there, it only continues to grow every passing minute he spends with Jake’s father. A constant reminder of what he’s done – a reminder that he’s surrounded by death – and anyone who gets close ends up far worse than they were without him.

  After fixing another large plate of food, he gradually makes his way back to the dining table. Taking a seat, he tries to focus on one question that runs through his mind, and he can feel the hesitancy spreading the more he thinks of the question, but he bites his tongue and satisfies his curiosity.

  “Where’s Jake’s Mother?” Nickolai asks carefully, slowly looking up to meet Desmond’s sad eyes, those same doe eyes Jake flashed at him.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he roughly states, his tone thick in discomfort and betrayal. “She’s the reason Jake was taken; I was being held back at my job – trying to get to the hospital to see the birth of my only son, but she never wanted him. She gave him up on the spot and by the time I got there. They were gone.” He stops there, finishing the vague version of his story before he sighs deeply and forces a smile on the staring elf seeing that sense of sadness rolls over his vibrant odd-eyes.

  “What did they tell you about your parents?”

  The question is thick and clearly curious as he asks and Nickolai freezes as he asks, before shaking his head and shrugging heavily. Tilting his head with a long huff, before bluntly scoffing. “Pretty simple. One look at me and they didn’t want me.”

  Desmond stares at him, before drawing his eyes down to his empty plate and shaking his head, his hands balling into tight fists. He only wonders what they told Jake. He can’t understand how anyone could treat children in such a way.

  “What?” Nickolai is quick to inquire as his ears jerk upwards, seeing Desmond’s rage-filled reaction,

  Desmond remains quiet before looking up at Nickolai with a very sore and pitiful expression, an expression Nickolai hates. He doesn’t want anyone looking at him in such a way.

  Nickolai’s eyebrows furrow at him, a glint of irritation spreads through his eyes as he watches him. What did he know? The questions are soon burning in his mind. Does he know something? Anything.

  “It’s best I show you,” Desmond finally replies, seeing the pure desperation and panic rising in Nickolai’s body language; anxious and nervous to his answer.

  Desmond gathers himself and steps away from the dining table, leaving Nickolai to skew in his own thoughts. Screaming and crying for answers – his mind is racing – and he doesn’t know how to even start reacting or thinking at this point. Is he about to get answers?

  Shaking, he doesn’t know what t
o expect or even what he needs or wants to hear. What is Desmond about to show him? His parents? His chest is heavy, but his breath quickens with each second Desmond is out of sight. Panting, he waits, scared like the child he once was – afraid and alone.

  Stepping back into the dining room, Desmond places a folder down before Nickolai, just out of his reach. His eyes are pinned on him with a very sharp and strict look as he watches the young man drowning in his own thoughts.

  “Feel free to take it upstairs.” Desmond gives him a choice, knowing that this is something Nickolai needs to know— to find who he truly is. He doesn’t care if he does so, privacy is something he was never given and for the first time in his entire life, he has it and Desmond only hopes he’ll take it.

  Nickolai sinks down and back into his chair. Could this really be happening? Or is this a dream? It can’t be a dream; nightmares plague him. This is happening. This is a reality, and it terrifies him. His eyes lock on the folder before him, his ears lowering slightly before bouncing his lost eyes up to meet Desmond’s.

  “I-I’ll go upstairs if that’s okay…” Nickolai mumbles, his tone staggered. He doesn’t really know what to do or how to take it all. He finally gets up and takes a tight hold of the folder before nodding to Desmond with a very torn expression before exiting the room.

  Peeling off his blanket, he spreads it out over his bed, landing the folder beside it. He begins to pace, back and forth. Hesitation, curiosity, and fear collide and drown him in despair. He is scared – as the answers to the one question he desperately needs – are right there waiting.

  Finally, he slumps down on his bed sitting beside the folder. Looking down at it, he finally retrieves it in his shaking hands. As he opens it, a small piece of paper slips out from the sudden movement causing Nickolai to immediately snatch it up from the ground looking at it. He sees a news article that’s been printed out, but it’s only a photo of a very distressed couple.

  The man is on the left of the photo holding the woman beside him closely. He has thick dark hair, and piercing blue eyes with a very similar jawline. The small petite woman beside him has vibrant and long fiery red hair, exactly like his – only his is darker. She also has soft and delicate elven ears, hidden behind her hair. He notices them. She has beautiful forest green eyes, but they’re glazed in tears as they plead for information on their missing child. Nickolai.

  Shock has taken over as his eyes widen and he’s completely sapped by what’s he’s looking at. Living a lie, his entire life, taken from heaven and thrown into hell. He’s had so much anger spreading through his veins, ever since he heard that his parents gave up on him – all of that wasted anger and self-torment was for nothing.

  He can’t stop locking his eyes with his mother’s – she’s so scared and worried. This whole time, they’ve been looking for him, searching for him and he never knew. He carried so much anger and disgust towards them all his life.

  He never knew how much he was wanted. Finally, he inhales and lets out a sob, shaking his head. He huffs loudly and reads the bottom of the photo.

  Zeke and Pia Syrex are pleading for anyone to come forward with any information about their newborn son, Nickolai. – Nickolai was abducted from his hospital room, around 4 pm.

  Words are trapped and on the tip of his tongue, and he becomes breathless. attempting to take everything in. He can only hope, they are still somewhere out there – still alive.

  “Sy-rex.” The surname rolls from his lips, a whisper as he spells it out, pronouncing it. The shock shakes his entire body. In a trance of pure bewilderment.

  Sitting there in silence, he doesn’t go through the other documents as he sits the folder on his lap, and stares at the photo: his origin. Seeing what they look like and how frantic they are to find him tears through his heart. He wishes he could tell them… he’s finally free.

  His thoughts are loud, as he continues to take in every feature his parents have. Soon the sudden strange sound shatters his thoughts emerging from the attic door. His ear instantly twitches at the alien sound. He looks towards the door to see a black cat poking its head up and meowing at him.

  The sun’s rays rest and shine over Nickolai during its last moments before dusk, bathing him in the glorious warmth of the sun as he stares down at the fluffy black feline that continues to mew at him until it’s by his feet and swirling against his ankles and purring.

  It soon looks up and stares at him instantly receiving a smile from the elf, as he leans over slowly and pats it gently while his left-hand wipes away the stray tears.

  During the soft strokes of his fingers, and palm on its head and neck, the cat soon purrs and nudges against his hand insisting more love.

  “Desmond never told me he had a cat,” Nickolai mumbles to himself, as he continues to give the cat more pats until it launched up onto his bed and sprawls out.

  Nickolai flops backwards, lying beside it. Turning to his right, he watches the fluff ball start to clean itself. What an easy life cats had. He always envied them in a strange way.

  While his heart continues to ache, the cat remains by his side, keeping him company and comfort until he finally passes out from exhaustion.

  Showers are no longer dreadful, rushed, and insecure. He has privacy and freedom he didn’t think he would ever experience or ever deserve the pleasure of.

  He’s free to think, to speak on his own. To move and do as he please. There isn’t much to do, after being taught to train to kill all day, every day. His hobby list is extremely short. He has so much to explore.

  He’s even learned a few things. Simple, ordinary everyday things like laundry, cleaning up, and even a little bit of cooking. Things he should at least know more about, but with how things were he wasn’t taught any of these things.

  However, now that he can do as he wishes, he is often left baffled as to what anyone does outside the wall of The Compound. What do they like to do? What keeps them happy, spirited, and ready for the day? What drives everyone each day?

  It takes many day, and months to get used to everything. Still, it’s all so foreign and strange. He is trying his best to dream away the nightmares. Shaking the monster off his back isn’t easy, and it isn’t going to end quickly. He has eighteen years of physical and mental derailing trauma and torment to wash away – if he could wash it at all.

  His nightmares seem to worsen over time as if to remind him of who he truly is and what he’s done. The same whispers and words echo through his mind in that familiar voice, he despises.

  You're incapable of love or being loved. You're built for sin and born to bleed. You're drawn to death and death surrounds you. What does that make you?

  A monster.

  Sweat and tears stir him in his disrupted and plagued sleep; he can never escape the chains that continue to bind his wrists.

  He knows they’ll be looking for him. No one has ever escaped this far before. They’ll be questioning Jake, torturing him for any information he has. He’s responsible for so much bloodshed. Why did he run? Why couldn’t he just surrender and let them take him? Jake, Skye, and Dana and even those in the wake of The Governor’s hack and slash session would still be alive if he never existed. Anyone who gets close to him suffers.

  “Ah, you never told me you met her!” Desmond exclaims seeing Nickolai with the cuddly black feline.

  “You never told me about her,” Nickolai shrugs at him with a small smirk. He brings his eyes up to meet Desmond’s as he takes a seat across from him.

  “Well, she’s not mine. She lives elsewhere, comes to visit every day. I think she’s made a friend.” Desmond winks as he watches the long-haired black feline purr up against Nickolai’s arm.

  “Nickolai,” Desmond huffs softly, smacking his palms together and interlocking his fingers. “I’m going to go into town. Are you able to come with me?”

  Nickolai looks up from the cat, still nudging his palms and stares at Desmond. That same terrifying feeling jumps to his stomach and flows up to hi
s chest, squeezing it.

  “Uh,” Nickolai manages as hesitation attacks him, shaking his head. He’s been far too afraid to deal with something he’s never dealt with before. The thought of so many people, staring and judging him, people talking to him and approaching him. It sends his heart into a panic.

  “I got you something,” Desmond announces, in a low and calm tone before twisting to gather a large shopping bag from behind him and pulling out a large hoodie and a beanie.

  “Here,” he states, bringing it over to him. He then continues, “to hide your ears.” He nods at him, and takes a seat beside him, taking hold of the black beanie while Nickolai looks at the red and black hoodie with an enlarged hood. The fabric is thin for the weather’s change.

  “I’ll be right with you, okay? If at any time you feel nauseated or anything, just tell me and we’ll leave. All right?” Desmond slowly soothes and coaxes Nickolai. They’ve spoken about it ever since he’s arrived, but it’s never put to plan or it falls apart. He doesn’t want to throw him out there, so exposed to too many things he’s unaware of. However, talking about it isn’t doing him any good. He needs to face it head on. At least this time, he has someone by his side.

  Nickolai places the beanie on and tucks his ears gently and carefully beneath it – completely hiding them— before shoving the hoodie on and throwing the hood over his head. Appearing as a human for the first time ever, Nickolai turns to Desmond. He takes a deep breath, fighting back the fear.

  “I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Even with his ears snug beneath the beanie and below the large hoodie that almost covers his entire face in shadows, he is petrified, trembling in fear of what could happen. He’s never truly been around so many strangers at once.