Rope
Anger came later. Elias was not quick to rage.
He didn’t have much experience with it. His father was a quiet man, strong and fierce when he needed to be.
But he acquiesced often and preferred to share his pain, fear, or expectations in search for a solution.
His mother fussed, but it was just the way she loved.
With complaints, quick pinches on the cheek, and scolding.
Elias was kind, so people were kind back.
He was vulnerable, so people were careful.
He was generous, and people rarely take from those who always give.
Anger was the frustration after stubbing your toe, disappointment after losing a game of dice, irritation with dough not rising high enough, sorrow at rain on a day meant for outdoor celebration.
He didn’t know it could be like this. So dark it made him shake, pulled the feeling from his smarting skin, and drowned him in the nothingness of it.
Elias had never wanted to hurt anyone before, but he immediately understood it now. As the day that one learns their body can be used for pleasure cannot be unwound, his hands were given new meaning as the craving for death swept through him sweet as release.
He stayed curled beneath that fallen tree until the sun came out and the birds began to sing. His eyes smarted from exhaustion; he hadn’t expected to live through the night.
In the light of day, he inspected himself.
Though his cuts deserved warmth, cleanliness, and care, his burns had been soothed by the cold of the evening and were faring better than burns he’d received in the past. The bubbles of pus had broken in his struggle, leaving raw scabs behind that blazed when touched by the wind.
The black fluid he had vomited smelled like old blood and stomach acid. He had thought it was a foul potion given to him in his sleep. Elias was relieved that it was not.
His feet were healing well from his travels, but each step still pained him. His hair, hair that his mother loved and braided for him each night, was nearly gone. More fell into dust as he felt around his head, taken in the fire. No wonder she had not known him.
Tears prickled his eyes again, but he willed them not to fall. He didn’t need the pain of them.
What he did need was a plan.