Every Day Has A New Beginning, A New Blessing And A New Hope

Eichii POV:

They say once you have mastered being alone, you are ready for the company of others, that doesn't make it easy though. When everyone's life journey is separated from my own, when the only beating heart in this basket belonged to me, It wasn't something most could take. For there are days when the brain becomes a cold fire, perhaps that's what others call panic, but when you are alone, who are you going to call?

I guess when you come face to face with the facts, it's being face to face with the truth. It felt as if the world used to kiss up against my skin and laugh with me - no longer. It was as if the world had shrunken away to leave a cold void around my skin as if I had become detached from reality itself.

I desperately try to bang against the basket but my body is so crunched together, I can't move a muscle, though this is rapidly enhancing the pain I already feel from my bruises. I slowly begin to turn light headed and I desperately attempt to scream, my voice muffling against the rope.

I suddenly feel the basket bobbing up and down in a rhythmic fashion, we are most probably moving forward. Wait...why didn't they check what is in their basket? What the f*ck! Seriously? The basket most likely looks disfigured as well, but they just ignore it? Actually...no...they were most likely able to bribe him, well I wouldn't know...I was too busy WRITHING IN PAIN!

SH*T...dry tears fall from my eyes...sh*t sH*T SH*T. What have I done to deserve any of this? Why can't I see mama again? IT'S NOT FAIR! My thoughts are interrupted when the basket stops at a stand-still. I hear a knock on a door though, it is done strangely...*knock* X2 *knock* X3 *knock* X1 *knock * X1.

I close my eyes as to not hurt them from the sudden light that entered when the top of a basket was opened. As I slowly open my eyes I see a long corridor filled with multiple doors, inside each was something I wouldn't know and piled to the side was a bunch of crates filled with something that I most likely don't want to know the answer to.

I notice that only two men are guiding me towards a simple door. One I recognised as a man from the group who took me, and another who I haven't seen before.

Though plain, the door seemed to be there as if a dream had become solid, as if it had grown up on the hinges and blossomed into a ghastly hue, giving me a sense of dread. The door opened with a violent screech, hinges screaming out in agony. And I was promptly thrown into it and though through my protest and attempt to rush toward the door it was slammed shut swiftly, causing me to hit my head with great force.

My head bangs and ached hard, it feels as though parts of my head extend outwards and then rush back in over and over, no way to distract my self in this small pit of isolation I have found myself in. *thud* What was that? Not my problem though is it? With a long exhale through my mouth I find a small corner by tracing my hand along the walls until I reach another.

When my eyes eventually get used to the light I notice a small little gap in the wall, rectangular in shape. Rushing over to it I jump up to grab it but miss. I knew I would but I was just hoping for a miracle it would happen. That I could reach it.

So I shout cries of help towards it in the hopes of someone hearing me, I am met with the sound of an old raspy voice saying, "Give it up kid, ain't no one coming to save you here," I quickly realise that this man is probably also in a room alone. "Who are you? Were you also locked up here?"

Though I probably know what his answer will be, I ask him anyway, in hopes to prolong this conversation, the most recent words I have said recently haven't exactly been to have a conversation, my vocabulary has been limited to 'STOP' 'HELP' and 'WHY'.

"The name's Ito brat, and the answer to your question is yes I owed some money to some bad people and everything came down to where I am today, though I guess that happens in a world like this, the evil of corruption reaches into every corner of the world. It lies at the heart of the most urgent problems we face," I couldn't help but feel familiarity at his words, It described most of what had happened to me in a sense, even if he didn't say it for me, it was still something that resonated with me.

"I can personally say that I believe you with that," I told him, he chuckled a small while at that, "I heard the men outside talking a little while, he seemed quite cheerful about what he did to you and how he got you and how amazing you are because you have god's gift did he call it? It must have been rough for you kid but don't let them hurt you, because if you do, you'll be no better than them,"

How nice of him to listen in on them, but he doesn't have to worry about anything, "I won't allow anyone else to go through what I have, I don't care if nobody knows what I do, but any smile I can see if I-...no, WHEN I get out of here, that will be enough for me," I said with absolute resolution. "That's good, just remember, the world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything," (Albert Einstein)

After a random time of crouching, it occurred to me I had never been truly thirsty before. Drinks had always arrived before I knew I needed one, as a courtesy of my 'blessing'. never once had I drank to quench my discomfort, not that I know of anyway. But now any small amount of water would be a God-send. The urge to drink had dominated my thoughts, the sensation was unbearable.

Some unknown amount of time passed, I spoke with Ito quite often, he was the only thing keeping me sane at this point, he listens to my words as if they were gold, perhaps some elixir he has been waiting all his days to hear. From what he says next I can tell that his words are a kindness, a concern so quick that, for him, this attentiveness is a part of who he is and that is the kindness feature I have seen in anyone since my mother.

That may be why I feel comfortable while speaking with him, makes my dark life just that little bit lighter. Sighing, I relax against the wall, my body has been mostly healed by now, my purple skin returning to its natural colour, though my body is plenty skinnier than before, the only food I have some edible liquid in a wooden bowl and a wooden spoon and a small amount of water in a wood container.

The darkroom was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness in that way was a sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget the things the world said has to be done. My sense of time had been stolen from me as I have to use my sense of touch for everything I need to do.

There's nothing in this tiny room but my heartbeat and rancid breath. At times I tapped the metal door with the ring of the finger, just to hear something different, to make a tune. Then the futility of it all hits me. I can imagine all the little tunes mother sung me...recollect sunny days and picture the sunny days and imagine the beautiful valleys from the village, but these walls aren't crumbling any century soon.

The only time I have seen out of the room is when I receive my 'food', that little bit of time gives me the hope of knowing that there is life out of this room.

The blackness was perfect, a sort of visual silence that gave revered awe. With eyes closed, there was the simple sweetness of existing, of being, of breathing, and how those moments extended with such grace that it gave me a sense of comfort. The dark becomes my blanket of protection, a place for my heart to beat quietly in a steady rhythm.

"Hey Ito, how will I know my future will turn out alright?" I truly was worried about how I will live my life now, "Listen, kid, just because the past didn't turn out as you wanted it to, doesn't mean your future can't be better than you ever imagine," There is a natural soothing quality to his words and to hear it makes my body relax and brain begin to blossom once more.

"Hey kid," he said in an unnatural tone, "What is it?" "You know I have a granddaughter right?" he inquired "Of course, it's sora, you always talk about her, about how she is around my age and has beautiful gold hair, what is it this time?" Ito truly adores Sora with all his heart. "I just want to you take care of her if you ever meet her, by some God-given miracle, please look after her, this is just a wish of a dying old man" He croaked out with a dry laugh.

"What? Dying? Oi! Old man! What do you mean DYING?!"...no response..."O-Oi, Old man, OLD MAN! ITO! SPEAK TO ME! ITO!" I waited until finally, I heard a quiet raspy voice say, "Learn to accept your past, Eichii. Once you accepted your past you can live in the present and focus on the future to come," his voice got quieter and quieter as he said, "Beter things are coming," at that, I heard a thud at the other side of the wall.

I just sat there, head leaned against the wall and I cry. It is my tears that keep my soul alive in the furnace of this pain. They cannot extinguish what has been, yet only carry me forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget more than remembering, and maybe one day erase itself from my brain.

So perhaps it may be an oddity to thank my tears and be proud to cry, yet if that's what saves me from becoming a monster, a person indifferent to suffering and sorrow, then crying is the smartest thing I can do. With my head lost in its world of loneliness, I lose my sense of self, perhaps this is what it truly means to be alone.

My soul is somewhere else as it feels like my body just does everything automatically. I sit in the pit that has become my world, the only decorations are my nail marks on the walls I cannot break, but I guess, being here alone is better than being around people who don't value you.

GENERAL POV:

A few cloaked figures discreetly traversed through a barren alleyway, a hug of houses stands as if sentries to the alleyway. One could stretch their arms outward and just barely touch the constructs on both sides, the shabby walls built so long ago. "How long until we reach there, the lady doesn't like to wait for too long," one of the figures said in a hushed but troubled tone. "Be quiet, it is just past this corner," and as he said, they turned a corner and are greeted with an old door where mess and creativity go hand-in-hand.

*knock* X2 *knock* X3 *knock* X1 *knock* X1 they knock a strange pattern on the door as it eventually opens, slightly ajar. "Sorry," someone says, "I am trying to sleep at the moment," "Sleep is the best meditation," one of the hooded figures said in response.

At those words, the person opened the door to reveal himself, an average but scruffy-looking man. They were lead through the same room many others have been through, it brought the perspective of passing years in a world that had accelerated beyond sense.

They eventually arrived at a metal door when the other hooded figure said, "Is this the special boy?" he asked in a hired tone, clearly reciprocating his attitude from earlier. "Yes, it is, though, don't expect him to be in amazing condition," "Of course not, why would you keep him healthy anyway?" The hooded man replied in a mocking tone.

When they opened the door they only saw pitch black, but the man lit a candle they were presented with a small child who looked like a broken doll. The child was balled up like he was afraid to release his knees, rocking, his eyes fixed on nothing at all.

His skin was hidden behind layers of grime and his hair hung as a tangled mop of black and white. The latter being in the dominant colour. The hooded figures assumed that if this 'doll' stood they would be fairly small but with limbs more wiry and fragile than a catwalk model.

He turned to gaze at them and looked at them with disdain. The man placed the candle on the floor and dragged the 'doll' over to a chair, and held his hand out toward the figures, displaying the need for something.

One of the hooded men pulled out a long metal pole with a strange pattern on the edge. Setting the pole into a pit of fire, the 3 people waited for it to heat. To break the silence, one of the hooded figures asked, "What makes it so special anyway, all I see is a broken shell," in a flouting tone.

The man responded saying, "From what that carcass over there aforementioned," he told, pointing toward an already rotting corpse, "It has something to do with grass and the sorts," he spoke sceptically.

But then his face turned serious, "Though if it's 'her' who is buying him, then it must be true, she must've figured out the truth somehow," he voiced. "Of course!" one of the hooded men proclaimed, "No one should doubt our Lady!"

Nodding profusely, the man sluggishly turned and grabbed the metal pole from the fire and inspected the tip. Affirming his decision to himself, he stood and turned towards the 'doll' who sat there unmoving. He walked behind him and compacted the edge of the pole onto the nape of the 'doll' as it showed its first signs of life with a heart-wrenching, hysterical scream.

The word "hysterical" in association with sadness has long been said with emotional indifference and coldness, and thus when the person in distress needs love the most...they are cut off.