Enter, Cardew Carrington

Cardew is ran over with amnesia, and welcomed by an unknown woman.

It was a rainy, dark night. I was trudging down the block in my soaked, black, hooded jacket and faded blue trousers, my gray loafers scraping against the concrete of the sidewalk. At 15, you would expect a boy like me to be inside, wanting to dry off and finish the day with a warm supper and heading off to bed. But no, I liked going out in the rain. It soothed most of the hurt I had going on the inside and some on the outside. On the inside, I had to deal with the problems of my “family”. A mother who works day in and day out, never having time to deal with me. A father who drinks, smokes, and beats the hell out of anybody who so much as looks at him, especially me. On the outside, were the scars. Dried blood covered my arms and legs almost entirely, covered only by the jacket and trousers. It was my punishment for whatever I did to make my parents hate me. I rolled up one of my long sleeves, and allowed the rain to bombard my scars with cold, stinging the flesh but hurting so good.

No one was outside at this time of night, when most children and some adults would be in bed and it was heavily raining. However occasionally I found a few old folks, staring at me with question. I would glare back, my navy blue eyes filled with hate, but secretly longing for love and attention. I would bet they could have seen the tears being held back. After a moment, I then continued walking, hoping they would not ask me to come inside so they could coddle me. I had to remind myself that no matter how much I want love, I cannot get it from sympathy.

A particular woman caught my eye, walking in front of me on the sidewalk. I ignored her, looking only at the ground. I looked up only slightly when she had found her house, went in, and locked the door. I vividly remembered what that meant. My parents instilled that warning in me years ago. It meant for me to keep out and mind my own damn business. My mother would have the door locked almost every hour of the day, especially at night, so I can’t disturb her and father with my petty nightmares.

I then saw a light getting closer, and I could see a car was coming in my direction, swerving left and right. I stopped to let the possible drunkard pass by, but when I blinked, the headlights were all I could see before it went black. I screamed, and the only other thing I could hear was a sharp crack in my skull. I kept thinking to myself, straining to make out the muffled shouts of numerous people, trying to keep my mind off of dying. After several attempts to make out the screams, I could feel myself go limp, and everything went quiet.

After what might have been hours (I wouldn’t know because I was unconscious) I was able to crack my eyes open and let in all of the light in the room. I turned my head slightly, looking around the room. I recognized it as a hospital, with its many beds and white walls. I sat up in my bed, groaning as my back ached. I noticed I was wearing a white hospital gown, my clothes next to me on the nightstand. I felt my bandage-covered head and winced. The pain was unbearable, even to me. I looked down at my arms and legs, looking at the scars. They were now clean from all the dry blood, leaving the scars to heal. The worrisome thing was, I had no idea how they got there. A blonde nurse in an all-white uniform came in the room, and looked at me.

“Oh. You’re awake.” She sounded almost disappointed, but smiled all the same. I smiled, looking as innocent as a little schoolboy. I had not realized it, but I had come down with amnesia after the crash. I looked around the room, and asked the nurse, “Where are mother and father?” The nurse looked solemn, and told me they were at home. “Well, do they know I’m here?” I asked.

“Yes. They know. We called your mother and she told us to take you here, that she had too much work to see you.” After hours of lying in bed, the doctors and nurses taking tests for any more brain damage, the hospital dubbed me free to go, and dropped me off at my house. I was at first expecting a warm welcome, filled with hugs and kisses and ‘I love you’s, but instead I get a beer bottle in the stomach and loud shouting from both of my parents. They were saying horrible things, such as ‘you stupid b*****d’ and ‘I have too much work to be dealing with this’.

I could tell this wasn’t going well, but before I could run, I felt a kick in the ribs from my father, who yelled, “What? No fight? Finally gone weak have you? Get out of here and don’t come back, you hear? Leave us alone!” With that, he took me by the collar of my jacket, and with all his strength, threw me out of the house, and locked the door. I didn’t land very far, since father wasn’t very strong. I just landed near the doorway, still far enough to land in a puddle. Sniffling, I got up, and walked down the street again. Once I made it across the block, I sat down near a tall house, my head hurting and my heart broken. Tears made their marks down my face, dropping in succession with the rain.

I heard the gate open beside me. I jumped, and crawled backward, preparing for anything hurtful to be thrown at me. A young woman came out, her light blue eyes filled with sympathy. Her hair was a light brown, and kept in a perfect bun. She wore a pair of green shorts, a brown vest, and a white shirt under the vest. I tried to look her in the eye, but whenever I did, all it would do was make me even more scared. She held out her hand, and helped me off the ground. She put a hand on my back, and gently pushed me as she walked, into the gate to her house. Inside the house, I was amazed at the space. The entrance was beautiful. There was a chandelier, and a large plush carpet covered the center of the room. Many doors were scattered among the halls and the entrance, and there were three floors to the whole house. The woman turned to me, and smiled. It was warm, not like those fake ones I had gotten from the hospital. I felt almost like crying. Here, I actually felt loved. She asked me my name, and I told her I didn’t know it or I never had one. She then decided after a moment of thinking to give me a name.

“From now on, you are Cardew Carrington. It means “the Beautiful Black Fort” because you are a beautiful and strong boy. I am Malisa Carrington, your new mother. My butler Clement will take care of you, as he has for every child who came here.” She called for Clement, and coming down the stairs in front of us was a beautiful man (I’m not gay, but I had to say this). His hair was the color of fresh ink, uncombed yet perfect. His eyes were the color of blood, a nice crimson shade covered by small spectacles. His butler uniform was also elegant. He wore a white undershirt with a black jacket and tailcoat, with a black tie, trousers and dress shoes. His skin was pale, almost as white as his gloves. He gave a bow to me, and led me upstairs, my new mother looking on, smiling. Clement led me up to the loo, and had me go inside. Once there, he closed the door, and filled the tub with water, warm enough to be pleasant and not scalding.

Once he was done with that, he came over to me, and unzipped my jacket. I was afraid at first, since we were alone and anything could happen. However I decided to trust him since my mother did, and allowed him to undress me for a bath, watching carefully. He never spoke, as he scrubbed me gently, being wary of my scars. I knew he was curious about my scars, but decided not to say anything. After washing my hair, it turning back to its navy blue shade, we were done. Clement then dressed me in a large white nightshirt and flannel pants, and picked me up, one arm cradling my legs, the other supporting my back. I held onto his neck as he walked, for fear of him “accidentally” dropping me. After walking down the hall for a moment, I leaned my head into his shoulder, getting a bit sleepy. As I went to sleep, I asked, “Why don’t you talk? Are you afraid?” That was the last thing I said before I fell asleep.

A few hours into the night, I woke up, having had a nightmare about something that looked like a razor cutting my arms. I looked at the scars after rolling up a sleeve, and traced one of the long ones with my index finger. I then had an idea where they came from, and was a bit happy I was starting to remember things. I walked out of my room, and went to find Clement. Maybe he could comfort me in the nightmare, or make it stop. I looked around the halls for any door that could be Clement’s room. One door in the hall was open, the one right across from mine. I looked inside, and saw Clement, asleep. My head hurt again, and I had a terrible feeling as I fainted.

 

***

 

Back when I was 7, I had a nightmare about a monster eating me, so I went to mother and father’s room. I was holding my favorite stuffed kitten as I walked into the room, and asked if I could sleep with them. That is when my living hell started. They screamed at me, hit me, and made me run out of the room in terror. I realized I had dropped my kitten on the floor of the room, but when I turned, my father had ripped off its head and thrown it away. I had suddenly gone from the most precious son in the world to a complete burden. I remembered going into the bathroom, taking the blade out of the razor, and slicing into my arm. Three or four scars showed, each dripping with blood. I then thought if I kept doing it, they would forgive me and love me again.

 

***

 

Someone must have noticed me out of bed, for once the nightmare ended and my head stopped hurting, I opened my eyes to see I was in Clement’s arms. Clement carried me to his bed, and laid me down gently on the sheets, covering me with the blanket. He then laid down next to me, letting me cling to his nightshirt like a helpless child. He still never spoke, but smiled at least, and folded his glasses to put on the nightstand. I nuzzled my head into his pillow of a stomach, and let its gurgling lullaby me to sleep.

The next morning, a small squeal woke me from my peaceful slumber. It was mother, obviously overjoyed. She said how cute it was I was sleeping with Clement, and how she was disappointed that she never got her camera. I rubbed my eyes, and looked over at Clement. He was now standing, and gave a humble bow. I smiled timidly, for I did not know why I did not feel him wake if I was using his stomach as a pillow. With that, mother had Clement dress me in green shorts and a green jacket with gold buttons, and a blue ribbon around my neck. After breakfast, I was allowed to walk around the garden. I was able to explore to the hedges and no farther, for bad things would happen if I went back there, as mother said. Clement was nowhere to be found, and I was getting rather curious as to what bad things might happen. Surely nothing too bad would happen, right? I went to the very back of the garden, and parted the hedges just slightly; just to see what was on the other side. On the other side was a barren field, and that just made me even more curious. What would a garden be doing next to a wasteland? I then took a deep breath, and walked through the hedges.