Distorted Mirrors

Chapter 7

Bash pressed his back against the wall of his cell, knees drawn to his chest and eyes fixed on the floor as he rocked himself rapidly back and forth, terrified. Enjorlas had instantly disappeared from the cell and had taken off down the hall, toward where Bash knew there to be a hidden passageway.

His master would escape.

Part of him knew that was terrible, but the larger part of him, the one that Enjorlas controlled, told him that it was good. It was good that his master was granted this opportunity.

"Bash?"

Francis was at the door. Francis was at the door and he was sure to be disgusted by what Bash had become. He rocked faster, not allowing himself the privilege of looking into his king's eyes.

Bash slammed his head back against the wall. Once, twice, three times.

His master was not here to punish him and so he would handle it himself. If he did it himself and he did a good job, perhaps Enjorlas would not feel the need to do it when he got back and he would be spared.

"Bash, Bash, please stop, please stop." Bash still couldn't bring himself to look at his younger brother – at his king – but he felt his hands cradle the back of his head, protecting him from inflicting further damage on himself, and he immediately stopped. If he hurt Francis he would be in big trouble.

"Bash, it's alright. I have you. You're safe now."

He finally dared to look up.

"We're taking you home."