S1 E1: Memories Pt. 1

*Snow*

Slowly Falling,

Into another place.

Melting,

It’s poison in my veins.

Piling,

This need, on the edges of my mind.

Burying,

The person I used to be.

Silver Heart (Present Day: Jan 4, 2015)

I watched silently, reverently, as the snow slowly fell around me while I warmed my numb hands. Without care, it buried the ugliness of New York City and killed the unwanted homeless with its icy touch.

Snow. It can bury the world, but not my memories…

Creaking chain swings followed by a child’s laughter penetrated the silence of the park and sparked memories that I wished would be forgotten in the dark recesses of my mind.

It was snowing that day too…

Silver Heart (Age 4: December 14, 2003)

Warmth from a crackling fireplace. An old, scruffy dog, with more gray on its muzzle than black, raced over the creaking wooden floors to catch a well-loved tennis ball. A living room full of bright colors, soft blankets, and piles of books filled my vision, while my nose was full of spices and the thick scent of incense. I was so young then. Instead of this albino curse I now bear, I sported my mother's colors.

My mother was beautiful. Long, black-raven hair, earthen eyes with flecks of gold, and amber skin, but she always smelled of spices and tea. How I miss the the incense that would lull me to sleep and her Hindi lullabies… I can sometimes hear them at the edges of my dreams.

On that forsaken night, she was reading a book and letting me stay up past my bedtime, a rare treat. I took full advantage, but something seemed off. She kept gazing at me and then at the clock with fear in her eyes. At times, I would catch her silently praying. Something was weighing on her mind, but being so young, I wasn't sure how to ask about it. I tried simple questions and would only get a worried smile, and she would then tell me that it was nothing. She would tell me when I needed to know, but her words were cut short by the cuckoo clock. The high-pitched chiming proclaimed the top of the tenth hour, but broke just before its last chime. My mother turned pale, practically translucent, as she broke out in a cold sweat.

“We’re going to play a little game, my Rajakumar. It’s called hide and run,” my mother cooed as she walked towards the dog and me. “I’m going to hide you in our closet, the special one, so our unwelcome guest won’t find you. No matter what happens, you must stay hidden and quiet until you can run far away.”

“Who's coming, Amme? How far will I need to run to win? Are we just playing inside or outside too?” I questioned her while she picked me up. The dog seemed to sense her fear, and his tail stopped wagging, dropping low between his legs.

“Dreams have foretold a man I did not wish to see again. You must run until you can get lost in a sea of people. I don't know where your jacket is, but your blood will keep you warm. It would be strange for someone of your breed to grow cold in the forest,” her voice shook as she took me back to our bedroom.

It was true. I never got very cold in the woods when I played for a few minutes, but I would get cold if I went without it more than a few hours. And it was strange that Amme wasn't forcing me to wear it or looking for it. She was acting very distracted. This must have been a very important guest... Maybe a dangerous one. We never had any visitors this far into the woods and playing a game so late at night was making me nervous.

My mother opened our bedroom closet that blended into the wall. She said it could hide anything with its magic, but only one item at a time could be hidden. It seemed silly for a closet to be magical, but we played so many games in it that I almost believed her. Our dog began to growl in the living room. She quickly placed me behind the clothes.

“I want you to know that, despite my... many sins, I grew to love you so much. You were worth it,” she explained, holding my face, trying not to cry.

“Amme, what do you mean by sins? Did you do something naughty?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I hope you will forgive me one day, when you learn the truth. Find what is missing and grow strong, my little prince,” she whispered with pleading eyes; then kissed my forehead tenderly before slamming the closet door shut, rattling some of the coat hangers by sheer force. In the darkness, I heard the breaking of a door and my dog barking its head off. Then a loud bang and silence. Had something scared my dog into being quiet? I peered from under the clothes, through a crack in the closet, to find my mother was standing tall in the bedroom, but her hands were shaking. She stared out the door as heavy footsteps came closer.

A tall, pale man dressed in dark clothing blocked the only exit. His red eyes illuminated his sharp features, and I could smell blood drifting into the room as he moved closer to my mother. It was the first time I had seen anyone else with my red eyes.

My eyes would only go red from anger or fear, but this man didn't seem afraid. He seemed powerful, confident, and predatory. Like a wolf, closing in on its prey. For a moment, I wondered if his eyes faded away to another color like mine did when I calmed down. It was as if the universe heard my question. Slowly, his eyes became a chilling blue while his mocking sneer widened.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fly away, or did you finally realize you can never outrun me?” He taunted. My mother spit in his face, unflinching despite how close he was to her. His gloved thumb wiped it off his cheek and he gazed at it for a moment, contemplating something. Faster than my eyes could keep up, he struck her face. Blood trickled from her nose as her cheek and lips swelled, but she remained standing, unflinching in the face of his dangerous aura. I wanted to run and help her, but Amme didn't want the violent guest to see me, and I didn't want to disobey Amme.

“That's the best you got? How pitiful for a man of your lofty rank. No wonder you had your goons take care of any dirty work. You would have screwed it up,” she grinned, angrily. A quick jab to the eye followed by a punch to the stomach brought her to her knees, coughing up blood. He began to kick her mercilessly and she crumpled to the ground.

“Where is he?!” The man angrily bellowed, stopping his assault. My breath caught in my throat.

This stranger was looking for me. Why? What was I to him? Was this my father she had mentioned once before? He looked like that picture I saw once... Was he going to hurt me like Amme?

I was so scared…

Hugging my knees, I watched the exchange fearfully. The closet mirror glowed dully beside me with my honey-brown eyes turning red. I hated that evil red. Amme would always look scared when they turned red...

The man lifted part of the back of his shirt with one hand while the other hand started wrapping around the handle of a gun. My mother was trying to get her bearings again as she pushed her upper half off the ground.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, pointing the gun at my mother's head. My mother smiled in defiance and gave him the finger.

“Go to Hell, Hunter!”

Yanking her up by the hair, he placed his gun in her mouth. She struggled against his grip, trying to move the gun away. I could hear a heart frantically beating and for a moment I couldn't tell if it was hers or mine.

Mother had always said Father was dangerous...

“Wrong answer.”

Bang!