Completed Happy Birthday to Me

[Rhys Blodwen]

16th of Autumn, 513


Torchlight illuminated the small apartment, giving the dull room a slight glow. It was a bit dirty, a bit musty, and a bit cold. Although, Rhys didn't notice. The human sat at the edge of his bed, forearms resting on his knees. He stared blankly at the wall across the room.

I know this day. He thought. The four words seemed to loop in his head, over and over. He knew this day. He knows this day.

Pushing off his knees, he stood, and began pacing the length of the room. Formally holding his hands behind his back, he held his head up high, as if he were pondering something more important than this.

It wasn't that the day bothered him, really. He was just confused as to the activities that are normally engaged on a birthday, as he never actually celebrated one. Well, that was a lie, actually. For his thirteenth birthday, his mother bought him the satchel he carries, and a year of-

That's it. He thought. Mother.

His hands fell down to his sides, hanging limp. Rhys was frozen. Everything seemed to revolve around her. Everything. But she wasn't his whole life, right?

Right?

He crumpled back onto his bed, thinking about her. DID everything revolve around her, though?

The journey to Syliras did... The schooling did... Even the satchel at my side. He looked down at the bag, fondly. Ever since he had got it, it had hung on his hip.

Through everything, it remained.

It was a friend, more than anything. And his mother gave it to him.

Yes, everything was about his mother. But where was she, now?

Rhys pointed his nose at the zenith, and fell backwards onto the hard mattress. It was a painful topic.

Then his dark eyes lit up. An idea.

He slowly sat up, as if it took effort, and reached into his satchel. He dug for the object a moment, before slicing his finger on its point. He retreated from the satchel quickly, sucking on the bleeding index finger. Slowly, he lifted the lid of the bag, reaching for the eating knife he carried, careful to grab it by the handle.

Once retrieved, he stood, facing the wall above his bed. He grasped the knife with a white knuckle, stabbing the wall. It seemed to make no difference. Then he started dragging the blade downwards at a slight angle, bringing it up to the apex, and drawing another. He connected the two with a straight line. He had created an A.

Was she worth it? He thought, as he started on the M. I mean, I didn't see her often. When I did, she was usually tired, and didn't want to talk.

A-M

Then again, she never seemed like she wanted to speak to me. It was always almost too early, too late, or just 'not now'. He decided, after some consideration. Half of the next letter was done.

But she kept me alive. She fed me, she kept me safe... She must of loved me. Even a little.

A-M-E-L

Just a little. But why just a little? He wondered. She was my reason for effort. I loved her. But did she love me just as much? A-M-E-L-I She didn't speak to me. She didn't like to be in my presence. She didn't actually like me, at all. She even said so, once. A-M-E-L-I-A. He moved his hand over a few inches.

But I gave her everything I could offer. I was quiet. I was respectful. I was calm. Through everything. Through her episodes. Through her work days. I did what she said. And why did she hate me?! He screamed at himself, the knife carving faster. A-M-E-L-I-A B-L-O

Because some drunkard used her! And I had his face. Have his face. Poor mother, used and abused for ONE PETCHING NIGHT. And I'M tortured "FOR THE REST OF HER PETCHING LIFE!?" He screamed.

A-M-E-L-I-A B-L-O-D-W

Deep breaths... Deep breaths... He told himself.

I'm wrong. I know I am. She loved me like a son. He thought as he carved the last two letters with a trembling hand.

A-M-E-L-I-A B-L-O-D-W-E

Pictures of her remains flashed in his head.

It doesn't matter. He thought, carving in the N.

He dropped the knife, it clanged on the floor. He rested his forehead on the name.

"I love you." He whispered to himself.

"Happy birthday to me... Happy birthday to me... Happy birthday, dear Rhyy-yyn... Happy birthday to me..."

[Radiant]

Rhys :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Singing	+1 XP
Carving	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Remembering Mother: A-M-E-L-I-A

Happy Birthday To Me

Loots

Notes :

I am amused. I may sound like a heartless person... but, I am amused.

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.