Unreturned Gratitude

Once again, I Elia Sicar would be your host in this chapter as per the request of my master. Continuing from where we left off. After that eventful day of the massacre, my spirit suffered significant damage, the guilt of knowing that I have led my fellow Elves to suffer and death has really taken a toll on my conscience. All the hatred that I have bottled up was extinguished by pain.

And now, I am no more than a broken doll waiting for fate to pass judgment. My former burning glare was replaced by a blank dead stare and my struggling became nonthreatening submissiveness. The despicable man continued to torture me, though, as days went by, he slowly became tired of how I became so unresponsive and timid.

His beatings became worst as he continued to lose patience at my unresisting behavior. He soon started to speak his mind concerning my behavior, saying that I'm a "…Useless meat bag!" And that because of me he cannot satisfy his urge to inflict pain and that at the current rate, he might lose his composure around his noble peers and cause trouble for himself and his household.

Another one is that he deserves "Respect not unresponsiveness!" I considered all this treatment as punishment for my grave crimes, even to the point that I am willingly not responding to him to push him further.

'Death is a punishment too kind for an abominable being such as I, I would refuse that kind of end. I am only worthy of eternal punishment and misery for shedding innocent blood.' This was my thoughts, and this was my desire. The guilt being too much for me to bear and so, I desired pain in hopes that maybe my suffering would be enough to pay for my sins.

I also considered tears as another grave sin, thinking that 'A monster does not deserve to cry, they only deserve pain.' And so I bore the burden of pain without the washing comfort of tears. And that was when a part of me knew that I broke and that I may not be fixed forevermore.

Then one day, my captor returned from some far-off land fuming, to relieve his anger, he went straight to my cell and started beating me as he screamed his burning objections and insults to a man he probably met where ever he went.

I took all his strikes willingly and almost gladly. But then not long when he started, he stopped panting hard, his eyes more fierce than that of when he came. Seeing that he wouldn't be resuming any sooner, I directed him my blank gaze to see why he stopped.

And when he met my eyes, he became more enraged. "WHY ARE YOU NOT RESISTING?!" Came his scream. "ARE YOU USED TO THE PAIN ALREADY?! WHERE DID YOUR EXCEEDING HATRED GO?! WHERE IS THAT BURNING GLARE AND THAT DISAPPROVING SCOWL?! WHERE ARE THEY?!" The man continued. His loud voice echoed in the entirety of his dungeon.

I only gave him the blank stare that I continued to wear as an answer. His rage reached a new height and his already savage glare grew more violent with some hint of lust, before I knew it, he had tackled me to the ground and was ripping away what cloth my body was covered with.

Now smiling with immense cruelty painted perfectly on his face, he gaze at my naked body as if relishing every curve; he was ready to dispose of 'me', he was ready to take away one of the most important and sacred parts of life for Elves.

But when his eyes reached mine, his lust evaporated. As from before, I still had that same blank eyes, devoid of the light of hope or resisting. Eyes consigned to be defiled even if in the past it had learned the teachings of her people; the sacred nature of chastity.

Eyes only desiring punishment for their crimes. The despicable noble became disgusted at me and promptly stood up, muttering to himself "Useless garbage…" as he walked away.

At that moment, I didn't know if I should be glad or disappointed; glad that the last part of me that is intact still hasn't been taken away. Disappointed because the punishment I desire to be charged with is not sentenced to me.

As the man left me alone in his dark dungeon I mulled over this dilemma trying to understand my broken self. Hidden from my knowledge, it would be the last time I would see my captor brimming with pride and arrogance.

A day after that eventful encounter, commotion filled the abode of the man, even being in this dark dungeon, I can hear the screams of both man and woman. It gave me a shiver as the memories of my village resurface, and that buried me deeper in my despair, realizing that in the end, I was not able to do anything; feeling shameful because of the oath I promised myself to fulfill left undone and the regret of shedding innocent blood.

However, those feelings soon became forgotten for a moment when I witnessed the demise of my captor.

As I shivered, the strong wooden door that I have become familiar with as my days of torture allowed me to bear witness it opening before all of my sufferings, became dislodged and shatter into spinsters, as the body of the cruel nobleman broke through it as he was send flying into that forsaken chambers, he was holding a wonderfully crafted blade that does not match his personality; clearly in a fight to the death.

Not long when my captor hit the ground, another man in fine white clothing chased after the grounded man thrusting his sword. Being saved by his instinct, the cruel man's reflex made him roll to his right evading the fatal strike.

He then quickly stood up and faced his nemesis who also just recovered from his missed attack, for the broken me, this fight looked interesting and my previous concerns evaporated, in my head, me wishing that the man who held me captive be punished.

And it seemed like it would be fulfilled. My captor was worst for wear; he was covered in sweat and blood that came from the various cuts with varying depth, his breath ragged, and his eyes filled with both anger and fear.

While on the other hand, his opponent looked fresh as morning dew. His posture gave him an air of confidence and strength that was never present from the one that is standing before him.

Running out of patience and probably losing his cool, the arrogant noble charged at the intruding man swinging his blade left and right in hopes of landing a blow, but he was never able to.

His opponent saw every strike and in turn, avoided them with little effort. In retaliation, from the failing onslaught, my captor's enemy swung his blade as the man on the offensive was recovering, that strike added a much deeper cut on the despicable man's body which send him rolling on the ground; his screams of pain became music to my ears.

With his opponent on the ground, writhing in pain; the man clothed in white who is left standing from the battle surveyed this dark dungeon that held me, prisoner. It was not long when he spotted me in the dark, face almost pressed at the bars that cut me off the world outside.

As his eyes met mine, I saw in them glimmer though that glint has become foreign to me. I was not able to remember the meaning of that glimmer, but somewhere inside me, I knew if I can understand what it is I would feel relief. Lost in each other's gaze, we almost did not notice the shaking bloodied man that stood up from the cold ground.

He was trembling with every breath he inhaled but his eyes clearly expressed his hatred at the intruder who has invaded his house. Perhaps pitying my captor in his sorry condition, the intruder gave him words of warning. "Stand down, you can hardly stand. Any more and it will result in your death."

Came the words of the undamaged swordsman, though, the pride and arrogance of the beaten cannot bear the humiliation he has been subjected to, he snarled at the order and screamed at the top of his lungs the words that clearly shows his rotten insides.

"HOW DARE YOU! I AM A GREAT NOBLE AND YOU DARE LECTURE ME, MONGREL?!" Even in the face of death, he adamantly flaunts his vanity.

Once again he charged and tried to land a single overhead cut but before he can do so, the very intruder he called a mongrel finished him. The sharp blade of the swordsman pierced through the chest of my tormentor piercing his heart. True to what the man in white said, it would result in his death.

A feeling akin to gladness enveloped me but at the same time, something inside me felt sick at myself as I relished a person's death. Once again two clashing feelings met inside me and once again it send me tumbling in darkness and pain.

After all the commotion, the man in white took all the property of the dead man and distributed them to the people that lives in the land that the wicked noble controlled. They were very thankful to the one that defeated their lord; giving him praises and adoration equal to that of a hero, which was not far from the truth. As for me, he decided to keep me as one of his personal servants.

My life improved from what it was in the dungeon but my psyche stayed stagnant, eyes still devoid of light and hope. Even when he treated me with kindness, I still saw the man in white and his people as nothing more than slavers and murderers. I still saw them as sinners alongside myself.

The man and his house tried to break through my thick barriers of resentment with their kindness and affection, but they were not able to do so. Only one was able to get close to me, a Beastman named Aran, a fellow slave.

His passionate overflowing heart was the only one that was able to bore a hole in my walls, his smiles and words being the only one I accepted as genuine.

Not long from the moment that we met, he became my support that helped me stay the course of life and not stray away and die alone. Even with all these traits, I cannot understand his reasons for being so loyal to the man in white.

I am sure that he would gladly lay down his life for the man without hesitation. This is the only part of him that at the time, I cannot comprehend. As some more time passed, I became familiar with how Aran came to be a slave.

He too suffered all things except death and he too resented every human for that, but when the man in white came, he saved Aran from the engulfing darkness and took care of him.

Even with all this information that came from the mouth of the single person in the world I consider a friend, I was not able to see the good in the man that took me in and in effect, the whole of his race. Blinded by hate and resentment that once cost lives and thoroughly burned my spirit to the ground.

Though, this hatred is different from before. It is the hatred that does not show seething glares or violent rebellions, but one that wishes harm to them that they hate that comes from the bottom of their hearts. Days continued to pass but, my damaged psyche continued to stay stagnant and buried under pity that I continued to give myself.

The time we spent together made me and Aran inseparable, he always looked after me like I am one of his brethren and like I am connected to him by blood. He comforted me whenever nightmares would assault me and he wiped away my tears. He also taught me how to use a bow and how to defend myself.

All that effort to make me feel I belong and that I am important. But instead of gaining confidence, I became very dependent on him, I spoiled myself in believing that all of the problems I would encounter would be solved by him and that all I need to do is cry into his arms. Oh, how wrong I am and how foolish I have become.