I've only been here at this orphanage for a week, but that short time has led me to learn that life outside the palace isn't as easy as I imagined, let alone for such young children, like most here. They, despite being tired from the previous night, where they can't rest well due to the cold, hard beds, get up early and do daily chores while breakfast is served to them.
It's not like that breakfast is a great relief either, as a bowl of watery oatmeal or a slice of hard bread is barely enough to satisfy hunger for a short time. However, the children, who have already lived on the streets or under the mistreatment of someone older, know that at least here there is hope of surviving in this world.
And as always there are strong and weak, here too there are. And it's not me, nor is it Maiara or Luke. It's Benson, born here in Corralis.
None of the nuns are aware of anything. The fear of the weakest children, almost all without marks, does not let them say much more. That's why, taking advantage of the fact that Benson hates the smell of grass and the sun, the orphanage children escape to a higher part of the hill, where everything is surrounded by grass and there is no shade of trees. Guided by Maiara, here all the children live together and share together some wild fruits they may have found.
"Hey," someone calls me. I turn to see a child much shorter than me, holding a piece of apple with his only hand. "Maia sent you this."
I don't remember the name of that child, in fact, I remember just two or three more names than Maiara's, who is always with me. It doesn't make sense for him to do it either. This place is just a temporary inn until I manage to learn to use my mark by myself.
The child in front of me waves his arm, reminding me that I should take the fruit. I look at his hand, calloused and full of tiny scars.
"I washed my hand before taking it," he interrupts my thoughts. "I promise."
I look away, and when I make sure no one is watching us, I signal him to come closer. He obeys.
"If you want you can eat it."
The child's eyes widen, happy for an action so insignificant to me, but he soon denies it.
"You should eat it. You need to have energy for the rest of the day. Today I heard that there won't be enough food for dinner, so the older ones, like you..."
"It doesn't matter. Eat it."
He hesitates for a second, but his hunger betrays him, so he accepts and runs back to the group, where he shares that gift with other small children.
"You're very charitable, kid."
All eyes are on my back, and when they find the owner of the voice, everyone runs to hide behind Maiara. She, with a calm characteristic of her, sends everyone back to the orphanage. Only Luke, her, and me are left against Benson, a boy of about sixteen years resentful of life and eager to make others suffer.
"Get out of here, Benson," Luke asks, calmly.
"And if I don't want to?" Benson taunts him, copying his accent.
I look to the side, locking eyes for a second with that giant of six feet. He doesn't have marks, but his size and strength can overpower any weak orphan due to hunger. But that size and strength won't do him much good if he's faced with someone who knows how to defend himself.
"Go away," I murmur without looking at him.
"And if I don't want to?" he repeats.
"Then I'll have to break a couple of bones," I say, but this time I do look at him.
Benson smiles arrogantly, shrugging as if he doesn't take me seriously, as if he thinks my words are just empty threats. Maiara intervenes before things escalate further.
"Benson, you don't have to do this," she says with a firm but calm voice. "You won't gain anything by hurting Keith or any of the other kids. We're all in the same boat."
Benson looks at her disdainfully, but there's something in Maiara's serenity that seems to give him pause. She's not just another girl from the orphanage; there's something about her that makes him hesitate, as if he's aware of some hidden power she possesses.
However, Benson is not willing to be intimidated so easily, so he turns his gaze back to me, and before any of the three of us can react, Benson delivers the first blow with the stick directly to my cheek.
The blow makes me stagger back two steps and stuns me for a moment. When I regain control of my body, Benson has already launched another attack towards my side. Luke steps in his way, partially stopping the blow, but he is quickly overcome by Benson's strength, and despite his attempts to stop him, he has to retreat to a safe place away from him.
I stand up as best I can and let out a low laugh, but loud enough for Benson to hear me. The situation is not funny to me, but it's so ironic that those who profess peace and love are the weakest, and those who cannot defend themselves.
Or did Maiara really believe that through the power of love Benson would stop bothering us? No, I don't think so. Neither talking to him would make a big difference, so I'm willing to communicate with him in the only language he understands: violence.
"My mother used to say there was no reason to do it, that everything could be resolved by being receptive when communicating with others, and I believed her like the naive child I was. What I had forgotten is that my mother never went to war and never had to face someone with greater power than yours who uses it to oppress you."
"Is this what you wanted to prove, Maiara, that we should be submissive because if not they will hit us?"
She frowns and shakes her head.
"Keith, please."
"Please what?" She seems to have been rendered speechless. And rightly so, I don't even recognize my own voice. "No please. You'd better ask for redemption for Benson."
In a moment of distraction, I grab the stick with which I have been hit before from the free end, and instead of pulling it to take it out of his hands, as I'm sure he thought I would do, I push hard, stabbing him in the abdomen.
Not sure how to finish him off in the most painful way possible, I let go of the stick and wait for Benson to attack towards my head to dodge the stick, and when it's returning to its initial position to launch another attack, I kick hard at the mouth of his stomach, forcing him to kneel on the ground, holding the affected area as he whimpers in pain.
Blinded by anger and hatred, remembering betrayal and pain, I grab the same stick with which he tormented the children from the orphanage and swing a strong blow towards his head, but just a second before hitting him, Maiara steps between us and that blow to which I put so much hatred and force, hits her shoulder. Despite it, she shows no sign of pain.
Maiara doesn't scream at me, nor does she push or insult me, she just stands there, looking at me and saying nothing. I drop the stick to the ground and sigh.
"I'm sorry for hitting you, but you shouldn't have gotten in the middle."
"You can't always fight your battles, Keith," she replies gently. "Sometimes, true strength lies in knowing when to step back."
I hesitate for a moment about what to say, but finally, I shake my head.
"I don't believe it."
"The answer is not violence," she insists.
"I don't believe it," I repeat.
"And what will this solve?" she suddenly shouts, losing that natural patience in her and pointing to a beaten Benson on the ground. "What will all of this solve if you end up killing him and regretting it afterward?"
After a brief pause, I lift my head to the sky. Dark clouds begin to obscure the brightness and warmth of the sun, along with a cold feeling that begins to spread from my chest to the other parts of my body, extinguishing the natural warmth of my blood.
"And who said I was going to regret it?"