Chapter 565

The day drew nearer, the Lithuanian countryside holding its breath. Farmsteads, typically canvases of serene green and brown, now seemed to bristle with an unnameable apprehension. Even the wind carried a warning.

Young Jokūbas, barely twelve, watched his mother tighten the bolts on the cellar door, her brow creased with anxiety. "Stay inside, Jokūbas," she instructed, her Lithuanian clipped and urgent. "No matter what, do not open this door. Understand?"

He nodded, swallowing hard. He understood the basics, at least. Once a year, the Inhibitions, as they called it, descended. For twenty-four hours, the ordinary regulations of right and immoral vanished. Murder, theft, every sin was permissible. For one entire day.

Then, absolute compliance to the regular moral code resumed.

"What if someone tries to break in?" Jokūbas asked, his young tenor cracking slightly.

His mother's hand paused on the door handle. "Your father…" she began, but trailed off, her expression darkening. "Your father made sure that can't occur. Now promise me. You'll remain here."

He made the solemn guarantee, wishing his father were there to offer comfort, too. However, his father was on guard, ensuring his son was safeguarded. A necessary cruelty of this yearly purgative.

She hurried above stairs, leaving Jokūbas in the gloom of the cellar. The damp earth smell and the rows of pickled vegetables were small comfort. His elder sister, Morta, was supposed to remain with him, but she, too, had elected to stand watch, clutching a sickle his grandfather had employed.

The sun began its slow slide to the horizon.

A crow called somewhere above, the sound full of malice. Jokūbas shivered, pulling his worn sweater tighter. He wasn't a frightened boy, not normally. However, this day had a manner of stripping bravery bare.

He occupied himself by tracing the shapes of the vegetables through the glass jars, identifying pickled cucumbers, beetroots, and mushrooms. Each label was meticulously handwritten by his grandmother. She had never observed one of these days, fortunately. She was forever at peace prior to all of this insanity commenced.

The light dwindled further. The only illumination arrived from a small, barred window near the ceiling. It portrayed more than the world outside, a shifting silhouette against the stone wall. He heard a shout, distantly, the sound sharp and cutting. Then, silence returned, heavier this time.

He paced the little room, attempting to shake the unease that coiled in his gut. He tried thinking about summer, about swimming in the river with his friends. However, even those carefree recollections were corrupted, tainted by the impending night.

Then it commenced. A scraping sound from above.

Jokūbas froze. Something was scratching at the wooden floor above him. Like claws. Or fingernails.

His breath hitched. He pressed himself back against the cold stone wall, hardly breathing.

The scratching increased, becoming more ferocious. Then, a thump. Something heavy hitting the floor.

"Hello?" A female spoke, her language accented, and rough. "Is anybody down there?"

Jokūbas did not react. He pressed his lips together, his heart hammering against his ribs. He acknowledged that voice, somehow. It filled him with absolute dread.

The scraping commenced anew, nearer to the cellar door. A pause. Then, a voice, louder this time. "I realize you're down there, boy. Come on, it will be less painful if you just show yourself!"

He remained silent, paralyzed by apprehension.

A new sound joined the scraping. The sound of splintering wood. His mother's careful assurances of safety meant nothing now. They had gotten in, regardless.

The splintering progressed, vicious and uncontrolled. Jokūbas squeezed his eyes shut, wanting the whole day to be done. Wishing he might magically wake up tomorrow and everything might revert back to its usual state. He yearned for the peaceful times earlier than the horrors, but such ideas were nothing greater than fantasies.

Suddenly, the door hinges squealed. The cellar door shuddered, then gave manner, falling inward with a crash.

Standing in the door was a female. Jokūbas acknowledged her instantly. It was Daiva, one of his elder sister's friends. Nonetheless, something about her felt altered. Her eyes were intense, practically shining in the gloom. She was clutching something behind her back.

"Jokūbas," she said, her tone almost coaxing. "Don't be frightened. I just wish to communicate."

He continued to shrink backward, pushing himself deeper into the angle of the wall. He noticed her other hand slowly, exposing a long, sharp knife.

"Daiva… what do you desire?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

Her smile was terrifying. "I just wish to play. A very easy game. I'll make it fast, I swear."

She walked into the cellar.

Jokūbas turned and ran, scrambling to the back of the narrow room. There was nowhere to go. He collided against the back wall.

Daiva stalked gradually, the blade gleaming. "There's nowhere to run, Jokūbas. Do not make this harder than it needs to be."

He noticed something next to him. A heavy glass jar of pickled beets. He picked it up with both hands, hefting its bulk. It was a poor defense, however it was all he had.

"Stay back!" he screamed, his tenor cracking again.

Daiva laughed, a high, hysterical sound. "Are you really going to try and assault me with that? How sweet."

She hurried at him, the knife arcing downwards.

Jokūbas reacted instinctively, swinging the jar with all his might. It collided with Daiva's head with a sickening crunch. Glass exploded everywhere, showering them both with shards and crimson beet juice.

Daiva staggered back, clutching her head, her eyes huge with shock. She collapsed, collapsing on the floor, unmoving.

Jokūbas stared down at her, panting, trembling. He had not ever hit anyone previously. Now, he had most likely murdered someone. Even if it was permitted.

He backed off, shaking his head. The significance of what had happened begun to descend on him, crushing him with its heavy load. He was a child, a little boy. This wasn't supposed to occur.

Above him, he heard voices. Shouting. He acknowledged one of them as his father's. They were seeking Daiva. Had she arrived alone?

He huddled back against the wall, shaking. He realized the one thing. He could not permit them to catch him there, standing above Daiva's form with a ruined jar of beets in his hand. They will consider he had murdered her in cool blood. He had to go out of this spot. He had to escape.

He gradually stepped over Daiva's motionless figure, ignoring the crunch of glass beneath his feet. He reached the broken cellar door and peeked above.

His father was standing in the courtyard, alongside Morta. They both carried scythes, their faces dirty and determined. They were scanning the neighboring woods.

This was his shot.

He ran from the cellar, darting toward the opposite direction from his father. He understood this land; he could concealed himself in the trees.

He ran, his breath ragged in his chest.

He looked back once. His father had observed him. His face was twisted with rage.

"Jokūbas! Cease! Come back!"

He did not cease. He couldn't.

He entered the trees, dodging through the undergrowth, his heart hammering. He realized that he might get misplaced, alone and defenseless, if he didn't cease soon. Nonetheless, it had been a preferable decision than facing his father's wrath, that much he acknowledged for absolute certain. He could sense his rage, but was also aware he had been defending. Defending him!

The forest increased, wrapping him in its chilly, unwelcoming embrace.

The sun slipped completely beneath the horizon. The Inhibitions, with all of its madness, was officially underway.

As time advanced, sounds commenced filling Jokūbas, adding more and more levels of dread. Rustling through leaves as various wildlife and the rustling as of another person in the woods walking towards a very dark decision. Far distant shout. Screams. The periodic sound of gunfire.

He stumbled on, blind in darkness.

After what felt like several hours, he arrived in a clearing. He halted, looking, listening. Absolutely nothing. Complete quiet. For now.

He sank to the ground, his legs trembling. He was lost, alone, and frightened. He had never felt so solitary in his existence. The once-comfortable woods felt malicious. Menacing. Waiting. He didn't notice how close the end was.

A twig snapped behind him.

He whirled around, scrambling back, scrambling for defense that was not there.

His father stepped into the clearing.

His face wasn't raging anymore. It was bleak. Worn. Defeated. "Jokūbas," he claimed softly. "Why did you escape? I simply desired to assist."

Jokūbas swallowed, looking at his feet. "I didn't acknowledge… I believed you were upset with me for Daiva."

His father sighed, running a hand by his face. "Oh, Jokūbas."

He walked near, reaching out to him. Jokūbas flinched back, but didn't escape again. He felt as though all of his strength had vacated him.

"It is acceptable, son," his father claimed, his voice soft and soothing. "You were defending yourself. Nonetheless… you do not comprehend how this operates, do you?"

Jokūbas looked at him, fear gripping him by its grasp.

"Daiva's family…" His father paused, his throat bobbing. "They are a powerful family. And now, you eliminated her child. They will need recompense. It is the regulations."

Jokūbas didn't respond. He sensed what was approaching. Knew it with terrifying quality. The compensation, even though in the one area he felt most protected, was that this compensation now had his existence set at a time he must feel exposed the most. He just had one goal when it commenced, defend himself.

His father knelt before him, grasping his hands. "I won't permit them get you, Jokūbas. I promise. However you need to know that you have to become another member for all our family now, like all that's arriving at the house that night! A soldier for us".

His father's look was bleak and the gloom fell over the world once again. His eyes are as intense. They started radiating in light in complete, stark dissimilarity to that with this entire circumstance with such total and complete, stark dissimilarity it may well not also matter to those with those which must do some degree, such it has brought on that amount into reality.

"Do you know why they will hunt you, it's now time so now all our kin need to show some real… resolve now… this ends tonight ok Jokūbas? Do you want us?" His hands held tight. With tears of great love streaming through Jokūbas father held so dearly and the pain from tonight never left so all for kin.

The boy gave only a slow small shake because. "Tell Mama I appreciate all her hard works now." He knew she couldn't allow that, she required him also nevertheless all of her love wasn't always at last sufficient today. The small boy watched because because, they raised their head higher nevertheless, with rips in full power now because and held and also raised, along with eyes shut and screaming.