worth a thousand words {kel and eos}

CXI

I see him there beyond the pines breaking
his back. With no question as to why as if
it's obvious that he should just.
because of who he is and where
he comes from. (but i have seen them)

I have seen the scars that line his making,
the battle worn pieces of canvas he calls his hide and
i have wondered what he knows about it, if he knows about it and
that he is beautiful for it because

suffering and misery and trials can
kill us all given time and immensity but he
has the body of a soldier and the smile of
an innocent.

my skin carries no blemish and shows no use but
my mind is a mine field, a war zone for
the insane and my sanity clashes against the
backbone of my skull

i have the smile of a wolf.

-K.V.D.

I haven't done much in the weeks since Eos arrived but sit in my room and write. I've thrown out over half of the things I've written, none of the pieces quite right but it's still better than being completely blocked. It feels good to be writing again, to feel my fingers fly across the typewriter and know that even if it's complete drivel at least something is emerging. Even the stupid poetry. I didn't realize I was such a horny little shit but at least it's poetry. Romantic poetry is not something I've ever claimed to be involved with but I know that a lot of the people who read my stuff are swooning dorks. Like me. I'm a swooning dork.

He keeps going out into the garden. Which I'm glad about I guess.

He spent the first couple of days in his room, and no matter how hard I listened or how often I opened my own door to look down the hall, I never saw the latch move up or down even once. I didn't disturb him, thinking it must be a lot for him. I couldn't imagine being taken away from my family, I don't know how long ago he was taken but it wasn't fresh at least. It's obvious by the scars on his back. They're not new. At least some of them aren't. Some of them were pretty fresh looking.

Eva, for her part has always ignored shut doors as if they don't apply to her. I guess they don't. When his clothing that she'd ordered arrived, she went bustling into his room with a big box of it and made him try on every single piece in case she had to return some items. I watched the shut door for a while, wishing I knew what Eva was saying but being unable to hear hands it was their own little conversation. I returned to my room before she left his that day and I wrote until I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. I couldn't stop thinking about his skin.

I don't understand how someone could treat a real life, breathing human being like that. In my novel, a lot of stuff happens to Elend in his long life and people did unspeakable things to his friend Simon too, but that stuff never felt real when I wrote it. When I wrote about the things they went through it was fantasy. I never believed that stuff like that actually happened. Seeing Eos' ruined skin got me thinking. Now I don't want to write about anything else.

I watch sometimes from the living room window as he works in the garden, bent over, in the dirt, immersed in it. It makes my stomach churn. His happiest time is my worst nightmare. It only furthers the gap between us as individuals. He took the crumbling ruin of decayed lives and rejuvenated them. Eva's pleased about it. She's always spoken about how her garden used to be, how she only ever used to use fresh vegetables from it for her cooking. It's been tough for her over the past two years as her arthritis has gotten worse. It's nice to see her looking so pleased about the garden that she'd loved so much. I'm thankful to Eos for that.

I don't know how to communicate that at all. It's difficult to come up with the right words and I'm so high strung right now because of it. After such a long time with nobody else in the house, I'm hyper-aware of his presence. Dinners have been weird. When it was just Eva and I, there was enough space for the two of us to sit at the small table in the kitchen. Now with the three of us we have to use the dining hall. I like to watch him eat. Not because I'm morbidly fascinated with those that are tongue-deficient or anything. He just looks continuously with each new dish that Eva places in front of us, like he's expecting us to starve him or something. Judging by the state of his body when he got here, I'm sure that whoever 'owned' him before did just that.

I'm waiting for him to realize that I'm not really like that at all, but I understand that trust is not an easy thing. I know it very well. For both of our sake, I'm working hard to trust him. He works hard for it too. He never approaches me directly after going outside to garden for example, He always makes sure he's clean, that his clothing is clean. I didn't have to explain these things to him either, he just did it on his own. It makes me happy. I've never met anyone who tried so hard to make sure that I was comfortable with them. It makes me really happy.

Today I am sitting in the library, a book about various types of blades open on my lap; research for the second novel in the series I am writing. I'm only half focused on it, the other half of my mind busy with trying it ignore the amount of dust on the windowsill. The book half is losing and I'm just about to get up and find a cloth to wipe it down with when Eos comes hurrying into the room, an enormous grin on his face, seemingly extremely pleased with himself.

Curiosity hits me as he signs at me. Got - Something - he says with one hand, the other concealed behind his back. I don't know what to expect. I'm afraid as I smile uncertainly. He laughs then, and it doesn't sound like the tongueless bark that Eva often does when she thinks I'm being silly. It's the laugh of a boy who is excited and despite myself it ignites something within me.

He pulls his hand out from behind his back and I freeze for a moment. A little yellow flower- a poppy. He holds it carefully between two fingers and it is a sweet, small thing. The first life to be found in his garden no doubt. My heart speeds up as he extends his arm closer to me- I am meant to take it. A little plant that could be carrying a world of germs on it.

I shut the book in my lap to buy time and reach out carefully, hands shaking in the smallest of ways as I force myself to grip the stem of the flower carefully between my pointer finger and my thumb. I almost shout at the feeling of it in my hand. I can imagine hundreds of tiny germs crawling off of that stem and onto my skin. I think of the hundreds of little bugs that must call the seemingly harmless poppy their home. I want to drop it in that instant and stamp it into the ground.

I don't.

I smile, trying not to show the way I'm gritting my teeth, trying to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest as the old fear grips me. Panic makes my heartbeat louder in my ears and I take a deep breath to steady myself.

"Thank-you, Eos," I say, vice coming out calmer than I would have thought. "It's beautiful, I love it." I turn my eyes away from the plant to smile up at him as well, as if to get it across more firmly. "What you're doing with the garden, it's really wonderful."

I think I'm going to throw up on his shoes.

CXII

i have conquered
emotions and love with the cruelty
the coldness of a desert in the night and
ignored those that came before with the
might of a lofty king

but

all it took was a flower to
make me this unmade
thing.

-K.V.D.

I haven't held onto anything so fragile in what feels like eons. I can barely remember the last time I had a flower in these hands, barely remember the last time I held anything that hadn't been decontaminated first and yet all I can do is wonder if it is going to be the thing that kills me. I cannot look at something and eke out it's value by what it is, only by what it might do to me. There's a difference and I can see it sometimes, I can see the germs in the air around me, I can see them outside, waiting in the air for me to open a window so that they can get in. I cannot remember what it's like to simply hold onto something and fall in love with the simple beauty because all I can see, all I can feel is the death that it will bring.

I steady my arm on the chair's, blinking rapidly to stop panicked tears from forming in my eyes. There's a lump in my throat and I can't swallow it. All I can think about is my mother, coming in the front door, not even wiping her shoes on the mat before leaning down to give me a kiss, her spit getting on my forehead and the feeling of it there and I know, I know, I know that it was out of spite. She was trying to kill me then, I know it.

But this is a gift.

I watch his hands as they work, and hold the flower like I need it just to breath but all I want to do is let go of it. I can't. I can't crush him like my mother crushed me. I've got to be as brave as Simon from my story and I've got to do this, I've got to last.

I don't know why it fucking matters so much, I just met the kid a few weeks ago but it does. It does. I've been alone too long, I guess at this point it could have been anyone and I'm desperate to play nice, to make him want to stay because it's nice with just Eva and I but it's better with him here, it's warmer and the house is less empty and I like it, I like it a lot.

Besides, he trusts me.

I bite my lower lip and pinch the flower stem so hard that if it was a thicker stem it would have broken by now and then I'd have flower juice all over my hands and I'd be screaming and I want to scream enough right now but I don't want to scream. I can't scream. Don't, don't don't, don't. don't do it. Stop being afraid. Just stop. (but I ca-)

I feel it as my shirt is slightly tugged away from my skin and not even Eva is allowed to touch me. No one is allowed to touch me because they're going to kill me. They're going to kill me. They won't mean to but they'll do it. You can't trust people. You can't trust anyone to be safe. No matter what, they'll find a way to hurt you.

I watch his fingers there, dazed, shocked, I don't know what. For half of a split second, I don't want him to let go of the hem of my shirt, but he does it anyway. I can smell his scent because he's close and his hair smells of disinfectant and his clothing smells fresh, his hands are chapped from too much washing and most people wouldn't find this smell appealing but to me it is good. I can't count the amount of times on both fingers that my mother and father would come to speak to me, dirt under their nails and smelling of stale cigarettes and sweat.

I find his eyes at the same time that he finds mine and I hold his gaze for as long as I can, widening my lips into the smile that I know that he's searching for. I want to assure him that I'm happy with the gift but despite my body finding it wonderful, my brain is panicking. He's blurring in front of me as my vision swims. I've got to get out of here. I've got to get the dirt off of me. My skin itches. There's bugs all over me, all over me. They're all over, burrowing under my skin, going to make me sick, they're going to make me sick again and again and again.

I can't do this.

"I'm going to go and put this in water," I say, surprised at how calm I sound, hoping my smile looks as genuine as I want it to as well. I stand, moving the book to the side and stepping around Eos. "I'll see you at dinner Eos." I know better than to thank him again. It seems that doesn't work. Gratitude from me can only be expressed through treating him like a human being instead.

I walk steadily out of the room, turning to look over my shoulder at him, offering him another smile before I slip away.

As soon as I have the door shut behind me, I break into a run.

CXIII

I once thought I was king among men
but now, looking at
him
i understand that i am lowly
I am a slave living in
the halls of the gods

(think of how it must feel
to finally understand
your own worth.)

It is freeing.

-K.V.D.

I reach my room quickly and cross the length of it to the en-suite bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind me, locking it with a quick click. My personal shower is in the corner, head still dripping from the shower I took only a few hours ago. There are fresh towels hanging on the rack and I ignore them, instead grabbing a glass from the cupboard that sits above the sink, hands shaking as I fill it with water and I place the poppy delicately in the glass so that the petals don't touch the water and the flower head rests over the lips of the cup.

I can't stop my hands from shaking.

I reach for the soap and for the pumice stone that I use to remove the dead skin off my feet and fill the sink with steaming hot water, leaving the tap running. I ignore the foaming hand soap and take the extra strength sterile soap that my doctor supplies me with. I pump out a generous amount, lathering my hands quickly, rolling my sleeves back so that I can wash up my arms too. I rub the stone over the skin of my hands and it stings slightly but it's a good kind of sting, the one that tells me that I'm rescuing myself.

Washing my hands is soothing, I can fall into a rhythm, I can pretend that nothing happened today, that I didn't touch anything, that I'm safe. Flowers can kill me. Germs are dangerous. Germs are so dangerous and I'm afraid. My cheeks are warm, wet and I'm crying. Again. I don't know why this happens. My therapist says it's a normal reaction to extreme fear.

I'm aggressive, rubbing the rough stone over my hands and again, washing my hands, drying them, repeating this. I've not been so scared in a long time. Even when Eos came, it was okay as long as he didn't touch me and I waited until he was clean before I removed my mask. I was still worried that I would get sick but I seemed to be okay. I felt a tiny bit weak for a while after his arrival but I was fine. Today I have come in direct physical contact with something from outside, the outside that I have been avoiding for so long.

I get water all over the sink and it upsets me. It's so bad, so dirty looking. I use a cloth to wipe the water up and I get blood on the white towel but I don't know what from because I'm not bleeding but maybe it's the bugs from the flower climbing out of my hands, making holes. Panic grips me again and I get more furious with the pumice stone, dragging it over my skin in an effort to get the bugs out.

Mom always said that germs were like tiny little bugs that got under your skin and made you sick and I'm older now, I know what germs look like but it's so ingrained that I can't help but imagine myself becoming infested with bugs until they're crawling out of my ears and eyes and mouth and I am drowning, drowning, drowning in germs.

I can't see the sink anymore or the mirror because I'm almost screaming in horror and fear makes my skin prickle. I pump out more soap, washing my hands again under a hot, hot jet of water that makes my skin feel like it's burning but it's a good sort of burn, the sort of one that tells you that you're dying in a good way. I'm killing all the bugs. They can't hurt me if they're dead even if they're still in me (no no no get out) then I'll be fine, as long as they can't make me sick.

Doc always says that washing hands is good to prevent germs but not after you've come in contact because then it's too late but it won't keep me from trying even if it is useless. "Even the common cold could kill you if it was a strong enough vein, Kelsier, you can thank your parents for that." I'm crying and snot is coming out of my nose and it's vulgar and disgusting and dirty but I need to wash my hands, I need them to be clean and if my skin is cracking around the nail bed and if my hands are scraped raw and the water makes the red and sore from being so hot then I don't care I just don't want to get sick, not again. I don't want to be sick, I hate it more than anything, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

I hear a distant knocking but I am numb to it. I've fallen into a rhythm of washing and scraping and bleeding and I can't stop, I'm a machine, I'm in neutral, I'm numb to everything but this. feeling of disgust and fear and I can't hear them outside my door, the monsters come a knocking, the walking death traps. You're in danger just by breathing. I let out a sob as I hear the first crash against the door, speeding up, rubbing my hands together fast and ignoring the sounds of bruising pain from outside.

The sound comes again and I don't even look towards the door, all of my attention is focused on the hot water that is still pouring from the tap and I don't know how long I have been here but I've been counting and I have washed my hands two hundred and twenty-six times and that's not a very even, rounded number so I need to get to at least two hundred and fifty to be satisfied but I think that someday soon I will be scraping away my own bone.

The sound comes again and this time it is accompanied by a splintering sound and the bathroom door swinging open. I don't look to see who is there but anger does flare up in my chest because Eva knows that no one is allowed in here but I'm busy so I-

I feel a weight rushing into me, pulling me backwards and I land on Eos who is beneath me and I can't move my arms and I screech angrily, afraid, horrified. No one is allowed to touch me, no one is allowed to touch me ever and it's a rule and they know this, they know this so why why why why and Eva is kneeling over me and Eos is under me and they. are. too. close. to. me. they. need. to. "GO AWAY," I shout desperately, struggling in Eos' hold but he's much stronger than me. Blood gets on Eva as she takes my wrists to inspect my hands and my chest is all tight and I'm going to cry again and I need them to leave me alone because I need to be clean.

Sobs wrack my body as I go weak from fear and I curl up against Eos, wriggling in his hold, trying to loosen him. I clench my hands and it hurts and Eva looks upset and I'm mad because they're in my bathroom and they aren't allowed in here. "Leave me alone, just leave me alone,"I cry, desperation lacing my voice, making me pitiful.

"Please," I beg them.

CXIV

People say
it's like flying
Being free

But I know
It's more like
Death

-K.V.D.

Eva ignores me, so does Eos and I want to scream in frustration. There are bugs, crawling all over me, them holding me like this, it's like they want me to die. They're like my parents, purposefully trying to kill me because I was more of a hassle to them than something to love and care for. Just because it's true it doesn't mean that I should die, just because I am a useless waste of resources it doesn't mean that I shouldn't get to live. My childhood was spent trying to understand what my place was in my family, what I meant to them and I came to that understanding. I was always just an annoyance to them. I can understand that Eos and Eva might feel the same, which is why they don't let me get to the sink, which is why they're okay with me dying.

They don't let go of me. Blood drips down my arms in small rivers, staining the blankness of the tiling and the crispness of my shirt, making us all so dirty. I bite my lip, anger making me speechless. They aren't allowed to touch me. I told them that and they agreed, they said they wouldn't. Eos is making gentle sounds in my er as if he thinks that will stop me being mad about all these tiny bugs crawling all over but he's wrong. I want them all to be squished, I want them to die but the only way to kill them is by cleaning my hands off because the bugs came from my hands when they took the flower. It's obvious. I don't see why they don't understand.

I struggle, arching my back in an effort to make Eos let go but he doesn't. I haven't been held in years and years. His skin feels warm on mine, his chest sturdy against my back and for a moment I sink into him before wiggling against him in an attempt to get free. He's had a lifetime of work and I've had a lifetime of hiding inside, typing. He's too strong to escape. My hands go limp and hang in midair from where Eva is gripping my wrists. Blood meets in small rivers and pools at my fingertips, joining together to drip to the floor. She's got a towel in her hands and is wrapping my hands in them.

It stings and I shout something incoherent and sad.

Why do my hands hurt, I was only washing them.

I accept the fact that Eos won't let me go mostly because suddenly I feel tired, weak. I didn't reach two hundred and fifty times, only two hundred and thirty-nine. The number of washes is uneven and ugly. I need to wash my hands again. "Eva I need to wash my hands," I tell her helpfully in the hopes that she'll remember and let me go so I can. "If I don't get them clean I could die," I remind her. It's very important that I stay clean. My immune system is very weak. She knows this. I told her when I moved into this big old house. She's being silly right now.

My legs are shaking and weak. When Eos moves to sit, he's holding me still so I can't help but follow him. His arms are wrapped around my arms and my chest and I can't move well. "Eos," I begin, hoping he'll listen to me, "Let go, I have to wash my hands." I wait for him to let go of me but it seems that all rational thought has left the two of them in this panic. They ignore my requests. panic begins to build again and I wiggle, sniffling slightly as Eva stand and leaves, coming back with a bowl only moments later. She fills it from the tap with slightly steaming water and brings it down to the floor.

I'm glad that she is going to let me wash my hands. In fact, I'm so grateful that I'm going to forget this small transgression in their otherwise perfect records. "Thank-you, Eva," I say generously even though in my opinion I have every right to be upset with the two of them. They're invading on my personal space by being in my private bathroom. A weird sense of calm has blanketed itself over me and things feel muted, fine, fuzzy and soft even. I'm probably going to die because of all these little germs but it's okay at this point. I fought bravely.

Eva takes my hands gently and places them in the bowl. A soft hiss escapes from between my lips at the pain. I can't fathom why it hurts so bad. All I was doing was washing my hands. Tears climb out of the corners of my eyes, betraying me. It hurts, it really hurts. She takes a cloth and dabs at my skin but every touch feels like she's pressing a burning piece of Iron against my skin. Is this similar to the pain that Elend went through when he was being branded? I struggle against Eos's hold even as Eva stops to sign at him, hold. - him. - tight. -

Panic grips me again and I struggle harder, confused. Are they trying to kill me? Together? Eva picks up a roll of bandages and my brain feels sluggish, completely exhausted. Too much has happened today, I can't keep up.

"What are you doing to me?" I shout.