Song of the Chapter: To The Stars - Braken (Drumstep)

Remember the black feathers.

(Tristam's POV)

I tug against the restraints snapped around my wrists and my underarms, but I can't move. I cry out silently, and am answered by the man - that horrifying man Phantom called Jensen. I'm on my stomach, my back facing him. He laughs and bushes his hand down my bare skin, and I shudder at the tingles his touch brings.

"Leo ..." he whispers gently. "Flight would be so beautiful ..."

I try to break away again, but I'm helpless and can't move. Something's touching me - not Jensen, but something else, snaking around my waist and under my arms. I can't stop it, I can't fight it.

Something else - no, feathers, black feathers - creep up to my face, tickling my nose and covering my mouth. I find it hard to breathe. I keep inhaling them, and I can't breathe them back out. My heart pounds harder and harder and I start to panic.

"You are so perfect," Jensen whispers, leaning in close. I feel a shock of ice on my back, by my shoulder blade - where the black lines are. It feels like some sort of scalpel. "Flight will look so beautiful on you, don't you think?"

"No! No no no no no - " I beg, but my protests are in vain and unheard, muffled by the suffocating feathers.

Jensen plunges the knife into my back and rips me open. I let out a silent scream and arch my back, but he still cuts me, and I can feel the blood trickling down my back. I yank and pull and cry but I still can't breathe and I still can't move and I'm going to die here -

I wake up with a terrified gasp for breath, my eyes snapping open. The feathers aren't feathers; it's Braken's hair in my face. He's wrapped his arms around my waist in his sleep and is resting his head against my chest. I can still feel something dripping down my back, so I detach myself from him and run to the bathroom, clawing the shirt off over my head.

There's nothing there. It's just sweat. I breathe a massive sigh of relief and slump against the closed door. I'm not bleeding - not even the gash on my right side or my wounded arm. The black lines are still on my back, but they're faded, washed off by the rain, the shower, and my own sweat.

I turn on the cold water and splash it in my face, hoping to refresh myself before I go back to bed. As an afterthought, I try to scrub off the lines on my back, but I can't reach them well enough to make a difference. I just make myself frustrated, so I give up and put the shirt back on, turning off the light and exiting the bathroom.

No one else is awake, so I walk as quietly as I can back over to the bed and climb under the covers. Braken's curled up, hugging a pillow instead of me. I lay down on my side and watch him for a moment as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful when he's not having nightmares. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, with no luck. I know I'm going to be tortured with dreams for a while after this. I shift my position and catch my breath in pain as I rest on my wounded arm.

"Are you okay?" Braken whispers, and I jump in surprise. I thought he was asleep. His long mop of hair covers his eyes, but he pushes it out of the way to look at me.

"I just hurt my arm, that's all," I answer back, smiling the best I can.

He doesn't believe me. "No, you woke me up by jumping out of the bed and running into the bathroom. What are you thinking about?"

He knows me too well.

I sigh, giving in. "I had a dream about that man - Jensen. It was nothing."

"Don't worry." Braken smiles at me, though his eyes are sad. "You're here with me. I'll protect you."

"No, I'm supposed to ..." I pause. I was about to say that I'm supposed to protect him, not the other way around, but I figure it will only make matters worse. "Thank you, Braken."

He nods and closes his eyes. About ten minutes later, he's asleep again. I watch him again for just another moment, sighing in relief. A ghost of a smile plays across his face as he sleeps, finally escaping the dark and murderous world.

●•●•●•●

(Phantom's POV)

There's fire everywhere, the smoke choking me. I don't know what to do. I'm trapped and afraid. The heat burns my skin, growing hotter every second. I'm going to die here.

I'm trapped upstairs while the rest of my family is down. I know they'll probably make it out. Me - not so much. The door is too hot to touch and the window is blocked with part of the floor above me. I start to cry, tears streaming down my face. I'm too young to die!

There's a crack and a crunch, and then the door bursts open. I whirl around, thinking I'm going to be rescued. No, it's just the door frame breaking. There's a tiny opening, just big enough for me to fit. I take a deep breath, cough in the smoke, and run through, diving between the wood. My arm gets caught and I scream as a burning piece of wood rips open my skin. I pull myself free and stumble to the stairs.

It's so hard to breathe, but I force myself to push forward, practically falling down the stairs. I collapse at the bottom step, weakly crying out for help.

Surprisingly, someone comes up to me. I look up and immediately cover my head with my arms, making a terrified noise. Anyone but him. He kneels down next to me, oblivious to the fire raging around us.

"What a shame," Matthew Jensen says. "I find it's always the middle child who puts up a fight."

"Please help me," I gasp out, my voice shaking and choked with tears.

"Help you? Why would I help you after what I did to the others?"

My heart lurches. "What did you do to my family?" I cry.

"Oh, don't worry." He tips my chin up with his finger and smiles. "You'll be seeing them very soon."

I feel something cold and razor sharp against my neck and immediately jerk away, scrambling to my feet. The knife nicks my cheek as I go, slicing it open just beneath my eye. I find a burst of fighting energy and run, but he tackles me from behind, the fire still burning. Jensen cuts me again, below the previous gash, though he was aiming for my neck to slit my throat. The fire will cover him up if he kills me.

A terrifying thought strikes me. What if he killed my family? What if that's what he meant - and what if he was the one who started the fire? I always knew something was wrong with him.

"Let me go!" I scream, the sound of fire trucks and police cars coming closer. The basement door is open. Maybe I could trap him down there and then tell the police what happened.

Instead, Jensen picks me up, ignoring my screaming and weak kicks. Still unharmed by the fire, he takes me up the stairs to the third floor and then to the attic that's barely holding together. And there's something - three somethings on the ground, unmoving. The smell is horrible, like ...

"No!" I scream, furious and despairing tears falling down my face. "You killed them! YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!" I kick at him again, my strength failing, and he drops me on the floor next to them.

"And you'll join them soon," Jensen says.

He lunges at me with his knife and I attack him back with all the rage and terror in my twelve year old body. I wrestle the knife out of his hands and twist around, slamming it into his shoulder. I feel his shoulder blade crack as I shove it in, and the feeling terrifies me. I release the knife, keeping it in his shoulder, and back up to the broken window, my heart pounding and seeming to burst out of my chest.

Jensen doesn't even cry out. He just whirls on me and charges. Before I can react, his entire body weight slams into me and I fall backwards. My hands reach for the window sill, but it's not there, and I keep falling. I scream as wind rushes past and the window flies away, out of reach.

I hit the bushes beside the house and black out, my vision tunneling in. The last thing I see is three forms - three spirits that don't exist, flying up to the stars.

I wake up to someone gently shaking my shoulder. "Phantom," Noisestorm whispers. "Wake up."

For a moment, I think he's the firefighter who carried me to an ambulance, but I finally remember where and when I am. "Noise?" I mutter.

"You were talking in your sleep." He gently squeezes my shoulder. "I thought you were dreaming or something ... Something about a fire and Jensen ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I was." I quickly cut him off before he can ask about it. "It's okay now. It was just a dream. Sorry I bothered you."

"It's alright. I get it." He yawns. "Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'm going to go back to sleep, but if you need anything ...?"

"Thanks. I'm good. Go ahead." I roll over onto my back and rest my hands on my stomach. A moment later, I brush my fingers over the two scars on my cheek, where Jensen cut me. That wasn't just a dream. It was a memory. I remember that night far too vividly. That was the night I learned that Jensen was exactly who I thought he was - a murderous liar willing to destroy an innocent boy's life to get what he wants and to protect himself. That night created my overwhelming fear of heights and fires, the night that made me reluctant to love anyone because I was afraid they'd be ripped away from me again. That night threw me into this war no one knows exists.

And I hate him for it.