Fake

It was a bright and sunny day in the forest just outside of the apartment complex that my parents and I stayed at. I only wish that the mood matched the weather. It was dead silent as I held both of my parent’s hands while we walked down an unfamiliar path. They were whispering things between each other, they tried to hide it, but my ears could pick up their secretive conversation.

"She's only seven years old, we shouldn't do this to her just yet." My mother said as she gently swayed my hand to try and keep me away from their whispers. My ears were better than they thought.

"We have to do it now. Don't argue Malinda. You know it must be done." His voice was cold, hard, and unforgiving.

"She's still so young, must we show her the way of the D.W. so early?" Mother was pleading now, with sympathy masking her fear.

"If she wants to master her skills and become a true member, yes. Discussion is done." Father said angrily as he tried to restrain his grip on my small hand that was inside of his.

Mother didn't argue after that and we walked for a while. I started to think about how the walk seemed to look like it could be out of a fairy tale, with dragons and unicorns and magical men with beards that shot lightening out of their fingertips. I got lost in my own thoughts, which was a grave mistake. I should have kept watching where we walked so I would know where to run when the time came. That day would be the one to end all of the happy dreams and fantasies that played in my mind. Thinking back on this memory did no justice for my already damaged mental state of mind.

The end of the road was a dark and unwelcoming one. Graves were laid out everywhere and it was as if the sun was hiding from this part of the world, hoping not to be seen. Only, I wish I could hide as well. There was a stone building at the edge of the clearing that went underground, and there were two men standing guard outside. Their guns at the ready with the safety clicked off. They were dressed in navy blue tuxes and any trace of muscle that they may have had, was hiding underneath the Satan cloth.

"Is that her?" One of them said. His voice sounded like he had sand in his throat and never bothered to get rid of it. Just the sound of it made an icy shiver run up my spine.

"Yes." My father answered with no emotion in his voice. The man that spoke walked inside of the building and grabbed a torch off the wall.

Who would have ever guessed what would happen next. Not rape, torture on the larger scale, or even murder. I wanted to scream, the urge was almost pushing to escape my throat but I simply couldn't. I was young then, how could I know what the D.W. was? I was still watching Disney movies and hoping that bambi's mom would magically come back to life. Every dream comes to an end sometime.

The man in the suit grabbed my arm and almost dragged me alongside him while my parents followed. The elaborate halls twisted and turned in so many different directions, it was like walking through a maze made by a mad man. There was nothing but bare stone walls that seemed to reek with death and blood. The only light that seemed to exist was the one inside of the man’s horrible grip that dragged me along.

What seemed like an eternity later, we finally emerged into a room that was lit with bulbs and candles. It was fairly empty besides the one man that stood by the opposite wall, facing us. On the floor there was an ancient script that I couldn't understand. It looked like it was written in some kind of Hebrew, but I knew that with all of the curling symbols and strange markings, that it was nowhere close.

I know a lot more now than I used to. When I was seven, all that filled my mind was fairy tales and fantastic stories of princes saving the damsel in distress. Of course those dreams died and what is left was the nightmare that turned into my life.

"So this is the Promised Child? Brown, curly hair, sky blue eyes, and skin that looks like butter milk. This is what the D.W. had described, and here she is. Made by our best, no less!" He chuckled at his own joke, but it felt like stain glass cutting at my ears.

"Prepare the Nightmare." He ordered, both of my parents stood at the corners of the writing on the floor and I was in the middle. My parent’s chants seemed to echo with a ghostly rasp. The letters on the floor started to glow a white light around the edges, pure black for the rest. I could hear his horrible giggling from the shadows, as he seemed to fade into the walls.

I don't remember what happened after the strange letters seemed to peel away from the floor and tattoo themselves onto my skin. My skin burned and I could feel my eyes roll into the back of my head. Right before the Nightmare took away my concious thoughts, I heard him say, "Sweet dreams, little princess. Until next time..."

The darkness swallowed me whole and I could feel myself being sucked down, deeper and deeper. After that, I don't remmeber what happened or how I got to the present times. It was one nightmare after another gruelish nightmare. The sweet dreams seemed to stop at a dead-end and were replaced by the hollow emptiness of the one shadow of the past that always haunted me, always stalked me.

I do remember once having a horrible nightmare where there was a little white dog. It seemed to laugh at me. At my very exsisant. It asked me why I was alive, and I had no idea how to reply. It was such a strange question to ask me while I was so young. Then it said, "I wihs you luck with your new life." Then the dog laughed and snarled at me,showing off it's perfect fangs. It's fur turned black and it's eyes became red. I leaped right for me, and just inches from my face, everything turned to white and I heard someone whisper into my ear, 'Congratulations for your new life.' I didn't understand anything of what they meant. Or why they almost sounded like they were trying to imply something more. Who knows? But the one thing that upset me is the same thing that still haunts me today. It was something small and probably not even that big a deal, but I chalked up mentally that it was more of an insult then anything else. What was it that pissed me off? Oh, right.

The loss of innocence is never something to be celebrated.