Unpleasant memories

Talian was just trying to help him. Sanderon knew that but it didn't make this any easier. Perhaps the fact that it was Talian asking the questions was help enough. Sanderon had heard the rumors and watched from afar as Talian went through his own nightmarish time. If anyone could understand it would be Talian.

Being asked for every detail, every thought, though was not something he wanted to give. The only way to give Talian what he asked for was to reveal how weak and vulnerable he really was. Sanderon couldn't allow that to happen.

...But he knew that he couldn't go on the way he was.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head sadly. Scooting back his chair carefully he stood and looked down upon Talian sitting there at the table. Sanderon had not been allowed to hunt for well over a turn and a half but he had never stopped being a hunter and right now his skills of observation were strong. He saw through Talian's shell and knew that the healer was still fighting his own demons. Despite the professional exterior, Talian's heart was probably as broken as his was. And yet...he still came and offered his help.

Tilting his head as he gripped the back of his chair, Sanderon considered the situation and the man that sat before him with a lot of deep thinking. After what seemed like several minutes, which it could have been, Sanderon nodded once. A decision had been made.

Instead of sitting down though, he remained standing. He felt more comfortable that way. Perhaps it made him feel more in control. Pushing gently off the back of his chair, he stood there with hands relaxed at his sides and despite the tightness in his heart and the churning in his gut, he began to speak.

"My mothers name is Eronia. My father's name is Sandark."

Sanderon's throat constricted painfully and he had to pause for a brief moment before he could continue. He had never told anyone about his family before this. He would tell Talian now.

"My brothers, Arkero and Sarron; They are older than I but not by much." Sanderon wiped his sleeve across his eyes quickly. "They saw me off that morning, one turn, eight months and two days ago.  It was my first solo overnight hunt where I would prove myself as a hunter. I headed out that day as a boy. But I would come back to them a man."

Sanderon clenched his teeth to try and keep away the tears that threatened. He wiped his eyes again and turned away from the table. Slowly walking over to his bed, with his back turned to Talian, he looked down on his repaired blanket there and continued. His voice was low and surprisingly calm.

"I had chosen my hunting camp a far distance into the Deep Wood by our cot hold. It was a good spot. After setting camp, I strung my bow and began the hunt. I had just finished that bow. It was my best work yet. The skill of a master, my father said. He never gave compliments that were not deserved. He was honest that way. It gave me hope that my ceremony hunt would go well."

Breathing in deeply as the memories began to flow, he let it out in a troubled sigh. The hard part of his story was just beginning.

"Ilveriath and I'shan slammed into my world and cornered me like prey before I could even begin. Like any prey would, I fought back. I was strong. I was fast. I wasn't just some dumb child out for a stroll in the woods. I was... I am a hunter. But I wasn't good enough. I wasn't...."

He shook his head and his next words were whispered. "I wasn't strong enough."

Unashamedly, he turned to Talian and no longer cared that the man could now see the tears streaming down his face. "I tried to forget. I kept myself angry so I could. I just wanted to be left alone. I had to be alone, just to breathe. But I was never given the chance. Every look of anger or glance of pity, every cruel prank, every hard fist to my jaw, every knee in my gut, every snide remark.... Tripped, shoved down stairs, mocked, punched, slapped, kicked spit on, ...every single day so much hatred and bad memories were being shoved in my face. I just wanted to be left alone. I tried to escape them. They just wanted to see me break. I wanted to just breathe but every time, I was dragged back. They hated me but wouldn't let me leave. No one saw my pain though. I wouldn't let them see. I had to be strong or it would just get worse. ...I had to forget. I had to stay angry."

His voice caught in his throat and his face began to contort into great sadness and pain. "Then even the leaders tortured me...until I cried...in front of everyone. They slaughtered me and for what? What did I ever do to them? Is wanting to have just one day of peace such a terrible crime?"

Turning away again, Sanderon made his slow way with a hand over his eyes and his shoulders visibly shaking as he cried. Only a muffled sound could be heard every so often as he tried to keep his sobs silent.

Sitting slowly down onto the edge of his bed, he rested there with his forearms resting on his knees with his head down for a few minutes. With effort, he managed to regain the use of his voice and with his head still down and his shoulders slumped his voice sounded very tired but somewhat in control.

"The only thing I had left was my own mind but even that turned against me. I've been avoiding drugs and the eggs too for that reason. I don't want to be a slave to anyone or anything. I need to be in control."

Lifting his eyes once more to Talian, he saw the young man sitting there at the table and realized that they actually had more in common than he previously thought. "But I'm not in control am I? I never was."