So two weeks ago, he was drinking again and hobbling home at some ungodly hour, drunken silly as always. There had been a scene in the street involving Aldric and his group. Aldric is pretty much the clown of the village, but his views on Kulym, our ‘God’, aren’t exactly up to par with what the village tolerates, notably in the way he calls Kulism a bunch of, as he puts it, “horse dung”. Apparently, on this particular night, he riled up some Teredian guards and ended up attacking one of them, initiating a whole fight. My father, being as drunk as he was, stumbled right into the midst of it. The soldiers pulled their guns on Aldric, but my father wobbled in the way and they ended up shooting him in the leg, mistaking him as another threat. After being rushed to the village doctor, he was prescribed a month of bed rest and quite a hefty forbiddance on any more alcohol. As for Aldric and his gang, they haven’t been seen since that incident. There’s lots of speculation that they were hauled off to Mayen’s, but then some people think they just ran like dogs with their tails between their legs. What do I believe? Clearly, Mayen took them. Aldric’s done enough to start a war at this point, and he’s certainly not one to just run away. But hey, it’s nice to have my father finally sober for the time being.

After changing the soiled bandage with a new one, I kiss his forehead and brush a black strand of hair from his eyes. For dinner, I prepare leftovers since father hasn’t been back to work ever since the shooting. His boss isn’t very benevolent when it comes to paid time off. Being drunk didn’t lend itself very well to the situation either.

The night continues as any should, quiet and uneventful. We eat the leftover spinach casserole in utter silence and father heads up to bed. He’s so tired these days… After cleaning up, I go up to my room and close my eyes to rest my meal, except before I know it, I’m in a deep sleep myself.

It’s nearly 2 AM when I wake up still in my clothes from yesterday. What a strange feeling, waking up in something other than my usual sleeping attire. They’re still clothes, yet somehow, it’s just such an uncomfortable feeling. The air is so stiff in here too. I push off the bed and open my bedside window, gliding my head out into the early morning breeze. Not even a barrette could hold back my bangs as well as the wind does. Countless stars dot the sky and the moonlight gives away the animals of the forest. Crickets’ chirps and silence mix, bringing a sense of pleasurable loneliness you can only get in the middle of the night. Sometimes I just wish I could stay like this forever: In the quiet, in the peace, no boundaries, just me and the world.

Before I can enjoy the moment anymore, something catches my eye from below. Something...moving? I squint, trying to make out the odd shape in the darkness. It moves frantically around in the shadows, a near moan emanating from it. As I lean forward, the window, though still holding my weight, creaks and crunches, nearly blocking out the sound from below. However, a yell soon beats the dominating window sill, undoubtedly from the thing down on the path. It must be a person. The drawn-out word continues, but it’s completely indistinguishable. Are they sick? Hurt? Whatever the case it’s certainly annoying after a minute or so. Suddenly, they drop to their knees and belt it so loudly that it’d be possible for even a deaf person to make it out. “CASSIDY!” Wonderful. I’m sure the whole neighborhood appreciated an early alarm.

After that little performance, they go quiet and turn to sobbing violently in the dirt. What could make a person so distraught? Or maybe in this case, utterly nuts? They may need help, but who knows what’s going through their mind right now…

Dammit, father would kill me but, I think I’m going down there. What if they really do need help? It could be someone we know and it’s just hard to tell in this lighting. I take another look at them as they’re still weeping uncontrollably. Should I really take this chance? They really do appear distraught… Fine, I’ll do it and see what the hype is. Better than having them wake up everyone, considering the earlier event from today. Besides, I’ll bring a knife from the kitchen just in case they really are insane.

I throw on my brown suede boots and head downstairs, grabbing the knife as I go out. The bawling heap of a person is rocking back and forth as I bring the potential weapon behind my back. Every now and then, I hear them murmur the same word from before. “Cassidy… Cassidy…” I have to admit, my heart’s pounding at the moment.

“Hey, you alright?” As soon as I ask it, I realize how stupid that was of me. Anyone crying their eyes out on the ground is most likely NOT doing too well.

“Cassidy…” if this is all they’re going to say, there’s no way we’re getting anywhere.

Their features are still hidden within the darkness of the dawn, but the shadows appear to show something poking from the sides of their head. Could it just be the night playing tricks on me? Only my 5-year-old self would fall for such tomfoolery. Since they still haven’t shown any signs of answering me, I go up and tap them on the shoulder. “Hey, I asked if you were ok.”

Nothing.

“I see you’re upset and everything, but if you need something you really should be a little quieter. Trust me, this neighborhood will have a mob after you in no time.” Another loud sob escapes their tear ridden face, making me cringe in readiness for someone to charge out. Jeez, at this rate the only thing I can do is…”Here, just come inside and settle down a bit. Maybe it’ll help you sort something out.” In my mind, I’m strangling myself. What the hell am I suggesting right now?

For the first time since I’ve been out here, they look up. “Where’s Cassidy? Do you know?” The desperation shaking in their voice almost saddens me. It isn’t a mental illness, just distress. Cautiously, I outstretch my hand and they fit their wet palm into mine.

“Come on, let’s go ok?” I reply with a forced calm tone. The idea of holding this person’s hand is not one I enjoy. Sniffing, they shakily stand up and follow me into the living room. As I set down the knife, the lamp fills the room with reassuring light. A 20 something-year-old boy with a chestnut ponytail stands by my wool couch, his wavy locks held back by a fern colored bow. Apparently the darkness wasn’t playing tricks on me at all; two curvy, ivory ram horns sprout from either side of his head. But not only that, an orangey fox tail snakes out from behind him and rests beside his knees. He’s like one of my old fairy tale characters jumped right out from their story, just not as ridiculous looking as I would have expected. A baggy white shirt tucks into his onyx pants, an oddly simple outfit considering he has such interesting extremities. It almost seems to highlight them even more. He’s elven though; the ears give it away.

When my eyes shift to his face, my heart skips a beat. Where I would expect his matching right hazel eye to be, is instead a dark socket with fresh blood still dripping from within. The thought of how it even got there puts a lump right in the back of my throat. Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I lift my hand, realizing the wet ‘tears’ were actually smears of blood. A sheer chill runs through my spine as I remain hypnotized by the draining hole.

He spots me staring and quickly puts his hand over it to hide the grotesque chasm. “Don’t mind that. Can you help me find Cassidy?”

“I don’t know who that is,” I respond, still imagining the empty socket.

He slumps his shoulders out of disappointment and looks down, clearly defeated. “Just forget it. I should go.” A thin stream of blood slips from behind his hand as he heads for the door, covering the remains of his dried tears. “I was being presumptuous to believe you could do anything.”

Oh, so now he’s just going to walk out as if nothing happened? Not to mention he was bawling a second ago and now he seems perfectly calm. Maybe he really is completely nuts. I block his path, eyeing him down despite the obvious strength he has over me. “Look, I invited you in here very well knowing that you were upset. I’ll have you know I don’t usually follow whims like this so don’t go deciding you’re just fine now. Your eye is gone for Kulym’s sake.” My eyes continue to pierce through him, conveying a sense of seriousness I don’t think he expected.

As he towers over me, he says, “You wouldn’t understand.”

That thought is something I immediately counter. “I’m more open-minded than you make me out to be.” This guy is seriously getting on my nerves. An awkward pause. More blood. Drawn out sighs. “Well, if you’re not going to say anything, at least let me fix up that...that wound of yours. You’re not going to get very far with a thing like that.”

Sighing and wiping his undamaged eye, he agrees, “Fine.” Pretty candid guy, I must say. In the kitchen, I have him sit down as I soak a clean dish rag at the sink. He slowly pulls his bloodied hand away to reveal the missing eye once again, putting the lump right back in my throat. The last time I saw something this gruesome was when my brother died, but even that was nine years ago. I gulp and start to carefully wipe the red stains away from his skin. Dealing with injuries like this is difficult, considering you basically have to fill a bloody chasm in somebody’s face. Aunt Hina taught me some simple techniques in the medical field, mostly because father wasn’t trustworthy enough to take care of any accidents that may have come along. Therefore, I’ve been made responsible for these things. After applying some disinfectant cream around the afflicted area, I carefully stick gauze in the socket, causing him to cringe and grit his teeth. Sweat pours down his cheeks as the pain must be near unbearable. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a pale face.

Grabbing a large, square bandage out of the cabinet, I reassure him, “It’s fine. I’m surprised you’re doing as well as you are actually. What’s your name?”

“Dara. You?”

I place the cloth bandage gently over his now clotted socket. “Nanami.” Silence fills the dimly lit kitchen as he sits, awkwardly touching his new patchwork. Having one eye must throw off a lot of things. All you see is going to be somewhat blocked by the absence of another pupil; an equal balance can never be found again. Not to mention peripheral vision becomes even more troublesome now.

Thinking back on his crying fit, I inquire, “So, Dara...If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?”

Hesitating, he takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes diverted from me. “She took her, Cassidy.” His hands form fists as he digs them into his thighs.

“Who did?”

Lifting his gaze, he answers, “That bitch, Mayen.”