The Toll (33 page)

“
What do you think you’re
doing?!” Papa’s shout came from the door, then a grunt.

“
She’s screaming!
Something’s wrong! Let me through!” I heard Trystan
protest.

There was grunting and the sound of
shuffling feet, a scuffle by the front door.

“
Do I look stupid to you,
boy?”

Walking back to my bedding, ignoring
their little kerfuffle, I dragged the thin sheet off of the top of
my bed, wrapping it around me as I left my room.

My body shivered as I took my first
tentative step into the living area, like a cold gust of wind had
just shot up me. The dark, raised markings on my skin, still
twinged, I soon found as I moved about, aching as much as the rest
of me. No stinging burning, all consuming pain, but a deep
ache.

Testing out my limbs, I felt like a
giant bruise.

Frowning, I ignored the shouting match
at the door to glance back at my room curiously. It was rather
strange, and it almost felt like I’d walked through an invisible
curtain or a shield of some sort.

A protection,
I corrected, not really knowing where the term
came from or how I’d thought of it, but it suited.
Yes, a protection. But from what?

From me?
Snorting out loud, I laughed at the idea.
Them? Protecting me from myself?
No, they were protecting
themselves. From me.

Selfish. The whole
lot.

“
They should feel what I
feel,” I whispered darkly, almost menacingly, “hurt like they’ve
hurt me. Feel it, all of it, know what all they’ve put me
through.”

The back of my eyelids felt hot and my
fingertips tingled, skin itching with renewed ferocity. About to
raise my hands up high, stabbing them at them, I jerked back as if
I’d been shocked, and in some ways, I had.

On shaky legs, I thrust my hands
around my stomach, tugging the sheet with it.

“
I’ve gone mad,” I
muttered, “utterly mad.” I was going to hurt them, all of them,
punish them for what they’d done to me, make them pay. It was
wrong, very wrong, and it frightened me with the intensity of which
those feelings consumed me.

There was a new awareness about me, a
sense, just on my peripherals, there but still just out of my
reach, warning me while alternately warming me, as I fought within
myself. The scars on my skin shivered as a chill kissed its way up
my spine, an omen that didn’t bode well.

My skin... Glancing down, I
lifted the sheet, biting back a hiss as the thin material grazed my
sensitive flesh. Blinking down at myself in disbelief, I couldn’t
hide the shuddering look of horror that flashed across my ashen
face. Barely holding back a cringe, I slapped the sheet across my
damaged, prickling markings, hiding the shimmering, glittering
runes—and that’s exactly what they were
—runes—
I realized with dawning
panic—lit up and glittering across my marked skin.

“
Runes... Runes...” I
mumbled, trying not to hyperventilate. Runes are magical, very
powerful things. So that’s what Troll wears, etched forever in his
skin.
Runes! But... Oh, god. I’m covered
in them.
The tingling fingers, the odd
feelings, senses.
Magic.
My eyes bulged with the gravity of it
all
.

What had I been about to
do?
Dread filling me, I knew deep down
that it wouldn’t have ended well. With my current mood, my
marking’s reaction to them—my whole body’s reaction—it would be bad
to entertain such thoughts about others, especially in my current
state, physically and mentally. And yet, I still did.

No wonder that belligerent
troll is such an asshole!
He’s fighting
off the temptation to invoke the... whatever is held within the
runes. Or does it even work like that with his kind?
Gah! I’m so confused.
There are so many questions, so many things yet left
unanswered.

“
Oh...” I mumbled
dejectedly, “I am so done for...” All the anger from moments ago
left me, temporarily put off to the side, for fear my dark thoughts
might somehow come to fruition.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed it all
back for a moment, hoping to figure this all out, piece it all
together somehow. It helped, but only a little, trickling out of
me, a fraction at a time, as I slowly but steadily
deflated.

I really need to watch
myself. Sucking in a sharp breath, I bit my lip hard.
If I’m not careful, I could really hurt someone
without even realizing it. Couldn’t I?

Why? Why would he do such a
thing to me? Why, you stupid troll?
I
railed at the thought, because all it did was add even more unknown
speculation, more things to worry over—more troublesome
questions.

If he knew it would give me
some kind of magical power, whatever it is I now possess, then why
share it with me? Why give me what’s necessary to go toe to toe
with him? That makes absolutely no sense.

Or... is that why he was so
mad? Because he hadn’t really meant to in the first
place?

“
Nathem?” Mamma called from
just outside the kitchen window, probably in the garden. “What’s
this all about, then? Is someone hurt? I heard shouting. Are you
havin’ a tiff?”

Though my feelings remained unchanged,
as far as everything went— resentment and anger, pain, still
burning a hole in my gut, intensifying the ache in my chest—I was
thoroughly sickened, just shy of disgusted, with myself at the
thought of what could have happened. Had I raised my hands,
releasing whatever my body barely contained, fueled by my raging,
rampant emotions... It would have done something, I just knew.
Something bad.

Scrambling back towards my
room, I stopped dead in my tracks before I’d even reached the
door.
I can’t go back in there. It doesn’t
feel right, and it makes my skin crawl in an entirely different
way. Unnatural, stifling, suffocating, smothering.
Wrong.

It’s like the room is trying to snuff
me out, as if I was nothing more than a stubborn candle wick that
just wouldn’t extinguish.

“
I need to get out of
here,” I whispered quietly, the sudden urge to flee overwhelming
me, scars itching more fiercely than before, begging relief. My
fingers still tingled and everything still ached, but that odd
sense, a feeling of the other, grew steadily.

Racing towards my parents’ room, I
skidded to a halt and turned for the back door, throwing back the
quilt Mamma liked to use on cooler nights to help keep out the
draft. Technically, we never use this door, and Mamma lamented the
fact that Papa had even put it in, claiming it useless. It was
useful enough for me at the moment, though, as I yanked it open and
scrambled through, ignoring the cold stones under my feet as I
scurried out of the house, the sound of old wood scraping across
the worn floor.

Mamma caught sight of me as I stumbled
out, my hair a long, knotted mass, tangled around my head in a
fiery orange, frizzy halo. Spotting Papa’s old, worn out boots
along the wall, ready for Mamma’s scarecrow, I snatched them up,
shoving them on as I scrambled by. A little small for my wide feet
but they’d work, they didn’t flop when I ran, though the sides
gaped open, smacking the tops of my bared ankles.

“
What was the ma...”
Mamma’s jaw dropped, and the carrots she’d been unearthing, a batch
held up with her apron, tumbled to the muddy, wet
ground.

Ignoring her, and the squishing, wet
earth beneath my booted feet, I ran across the back and clear
through to the grass that lay just beyond, headed straight for the
open fields. Mamma’s frantic cries turned to panicked shouts, but I
kept going.

More voices soon joined the others,
but darkness was gaining, and they’d soon find it tough enough to
keep up.

Run. Run. Now.

It burns. ‘Find The Lady’s
water, soothe the ache’.
A whisper rustled
to me softly as wind whipped through my ears.

I didn’t know what drove me, that
tingling sense at work again, but I wasn’t of a mind to fight
it.

****

Not too far off into the distance, a
male shout bellowed after me.

No
. Pumping my thick legs faster, I tried to outrun him.
NO!
“Go
away!”

“
Daphie! You’re not in your
right mind! You’ve been ill! Stop!”

“
Fuck off and die!” I
snarled, not slowing down a bit. If anything, my determination only
renewed.

“
Wait! Please!”

“
Never!”

Just when I’d thought he’d given up,
the chill of the wind deafening me to the sounds emitting from
behind me, the vibrations of pounding boots, right on my heels, had
me screeching.

Diving off to the right, I screamed as
a large weight hit me. Arms flailing, clenched fists punching left
and right, kicking solid flesh where ever I found it, we tumbled as
I was wrestled down into the long, tall grass. As my legs kicked
out, my boots were knocked clear off of me.

Straddling me as he rolled me beneath
him, Trystan fairly sat on my chest.

“
Noo!!” The blood curdling
scream ripped from my throat and I clawed at his wrists, drawing a
thin line of blood with every vicious swipe. “You won’t have me! I
won’t let you, not again! Get off of me,
nooow!”

Instinctively, my mind immediately
howled for Troll, along with my voice, crying out to him
frantically.

“
What’s going on, then?!
Trystan!” Otvla’s distressed screech garbled.

“
Hey! Get off of her!
You’re hurting her!” Papa shouted.

“
She’s gone mad!” Trystan
called back, grunting as he grabbed at my wrists, trying to subdue
me.

“
Fiend! Mad? Mad! Curse
you! And damn you straight to hell!”

“
Daphedaenya? What’s that
now? Come now, child! Don’t fight him now! We just want to
help!”

“
I’m sorry,” Trystan
muttered quietly, “but you’re not right in the... in any condition
to be-”

“
Oh? So now you’re the
authority on what’s right and what’s wrong?” I sneered, eyes
spitting fire at him through narrowed slits.

“
Daphie... please,” Trystan
whispered harshly, glancing over his shoulder nervously as my
family approached, “just stop fighting me.”

“
What are you telling her?”
Papa demanded.

“
I’m trying to calm her!”
Liar. “She’s not making any sense,” he snapped, growing
increasingly frustrated as I fought him off valiantly, bolstering
myself as I shrieked and railed against him, buoying myself as I
fought off my new gift’s first inclination
—attack him, make him pay—he owes us, name the
price—
using a surprising show of strength
and will power I wasn’t aware I possessed.

As all their voices ran
over one another’s, fighting to be heard, blending into a pleading
macabre that mashed into one mind battering mass, slapping and
beating at me determinedly, entreating me to acquiesce—just give
in, let
him
win.
It ate at me, like acid pouring over my soul.

Helplessness consumed me as Trystan
finally managed to pin me down, the memories of his attack flashing
back, so fresh and vivid in my mind, and I lost it.

“
You raped me!” I screamed,
and everyone quieted immediately.

Trystan reared back, but his tight
grip on my wrists remained.

“
I said no!”

“
Trystan?” Otvla’s voice
was shocked and unsure.

“
She... she doesn’t know
what she’s saying!” he baldly lied. “There’s something wrong with
her.”

“
Hah! You lie to my face,
calling
me
deceitful?!”

“
Rape!” Mamma’s scandalized
voice echoed throughout the open field.

“
I didn’t... I wouldn’t...
It wasn’t like that!” he cried desperately.

“
It was exactly like
that!”

Face mottling red, the man I’d once
thought I’d loved, sold his soul. “You have no proof. You wanted it
as much as I did!”

“
Trystan!” There was a
shocked gasp followed by a sudden thump, Mamma’s frantic cry
ringing clear across the clearing. Not entirely sure of it, I was
pretty positive sister dearest had fainted dead away.

“
I despise you. You’re the
last man I would have ever deigned to touch, given the choice.
I’d... I’d... I’d rather tie myself to the troll!” Technically, I
already had, but it was true.

Trystan’s hands loosened enough for me
to free my left hand and I thrust my arm at everyone gathered a
small distance behind us.

“
I wanted it? Really? Is
this not proof enough of how much I wanted it, as badly as you
say?”

Papa’s face paled noticeably, his hand
reaching up to his face as the other held his stomach.