Safe and Sound

 

      Light split the sky, the jagged crack disappearing as soon as itʼd come.

      I pulled my knees to my chest, the rumbling of the thunder making me quiver even now, the memories it brought washing over me like the falling rain spreading over my window.

      I still remembered her silken voice as she sung me to sleep, like that night would be the same as any other.

      The words of the lullaby sheʼd sung during that storm, during that fateful storm, rose in my mind.

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      “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. Youʼll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”

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      That night, Iʼd been convinced that the pouring rain had simply been the heavens grieving for what was about to be done to me.

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      “Come morning light, you and Iʼll be safe and sound.”

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      When morning swept over the hills, neither my mother nor I were safe and sound.

      When Iʼd opened my eyes after hearing the guards in our castle scream of a fire, I had been unable to even see the morning light, my surroundings basking in darkness, chains weighing down my limbs.

      And my mother had been there too.

      In that cell, in that prison, where those horrible, twisted people had kept us.

      But at least weʼd had each other. And even there, sheʼd sung her lullaby, sung it until the last breath had left her lungs.

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      “Come morning light, you and Iʼll be safe and sound.”

​

      During the first few years of my captivity, sheʼd been the light in the darkness, the lamp in the lighthouse, guiding me away from the rocks. Sheʼd protected me from their torture, baring the full weight of it herself.

      But when she was gone—when our captors had finally stolen the last bit of life from her—I was alone.

      There was no light for me.

      There was no protection.

      I bore their full wrath.

      Everyday when new scars would form on my flesh, every storm I spent weeping, remembering the night Iʼd been stolen from my life, I remembered my motherʼs words. I held onto them. Even though I knew I would never be safe and sound again.

      In that cell, the darkness had become a reminder of my captivity. Every time I sung of the morning light, I felt as if it would be my safety.

      One morning as I had woken up, my back aching and mind delirious from the pain of the torture theyʼd inflicted upon me the night previous, Iʼd decided I was done.

      There was no morning light.

      There was no safety.

      Singing about those things when they were only figments of my imagination was too painful. And I could not handle more pain.

      So I did not sing.

      I never sung it again.

      And from then on out, as far as I was concerned, I was dead. Iʼd lost all light from my life. There was nothing inside me left.

      Until one day…

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      “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down….youʼll be a-alright…no one can hurt you now.”

      A quiet whisper filled the silence of the cave-like prison.

      I tried to gather enough strength to lift my head, to look and find out where the singing was coming from. I hadnʼt heard my motherʼs lullaby since Iʼd swore to never sing it again. Yet, here it was being whispered, the words piercing through me like the knife theyʼd used against me several times.

      “Who...” I swallowed, my voice so weak, so quiet, that I was almost sure no one could hear me. But I had to try. “Whoʼs there?”

      The whispered singing stopped and I saw shadows moving across the room, a shuffle in the darkness far away from me.

      “I know youʼre there.” I tried to sit up, pain slicing through me with the movement, coiling around my limbs as they tried to push me up. “Why are you singing my motherʼs lullaby?”

      Silence greeted me.

      When I was sure Iʼd imagined the whispering, sure that their torture had finally succeeded in me going mad, I heard a voice answer me.

      “I thought theyʼd killed you.”

      The voice sounded low, but also young, like a boy. I squinted, realizing the voice came from within the cell across from mine. “Why….why did you think that?” I questioned as loud as I could force my hoarse vocal chords to allow.

      “You stopped.”

      “Stopped what?”

      “Singing.”

      I froze. He had heard me sing?

      “You used to sing every night. You stopped.”

      I felt the first semblance of some emotion besides emptiness begin to seep through my consciousness. “I…I didnʼt know anyone was listening.” I hadnʼt even known anyone else was there.

      “I was.”

      Silence.

      “Whyʼd you stop?”

      I huffed out a breath, trying to ignore the pain that shot through me as I did so. “I didnʼt want to sing it anymore.”

      “Why?”

      Like a cry of thunder, anger rose within me. “Because Iʼll never be ‘safe and soundʼ. Because Iʼll never see morning light again. Because the song is filled with lies!” I watched as a drop of liquid hit the ground, much like the raindrops had done on the day I was taken. I hadnʼt even realized Iʼd been crying.

      “Whatʼs your name?”

      I thought for a minute trying to register what heʼd said as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I had not cried in so long. Iʼd been so resigned to my life, this fate, that itʼd never seemed right to shed tears over something I couldnʼt change. “W-what?”

      “Your name.”

      Did I want to tell this boy my name? Could I even remember it? And then my motherʼs voice echoed in my mind, her soft words comforting, my name mixed among them. “Brinley. My name is Brinley.”

      “Brinley, I promise you that one day you will see morning light. One day you will be safe and sound. I promise.”

      I managed to push myself into a seated position with the help of the wall, whimpering as my tender back rested against it. “You canʼt promise that.”

      “I can and I did. Now will you sing with me…?”

 

      And so we had.

      That boy had saved me.

      Iʼd almost lost myself, almost let them destroy me. But heʼd helped me regain that part.

      Weʼd sung every night, and if one of us were too hurt by the beatings of our captors, the other would sing.

      Together, weʼd clung onto the hope that we would, one day, be safe and sound.

      A roar of thunder shook the castle walls and I watched a single raindrop trickle down the clear glass before me.

      “Love, what are you doing out of bed?”

      I felt two arms, the two arms that I called home, slip around my waist, pulling me back into a warm chest as they sat behind me.

      Turning, I smiled, seeing my husband, my prince, Damon Matthiasʼ disheveled brown curls tumbling into his eyes, the color of black coffee. “I couldnʼt sleep.”

      “The storm?” His hand gently unfolded my own, twining his fingers with mine.

      I nodded.

      Silence descended upon us and I knew he understood. He was the only one that did. The only one who truly knew of the horrors Iʼd faced locked up underground for half of my life.

      And then, his quiet singing pierced the silence. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down.”

      His voice had refined after all these years, deepening, the pleasant timber of it always making me feel at home.

      “Youʼll be alright. No one can hurt you now.”

      I leaned against him as he continued to sing the lullaby thatʼd kept me alive for so long, his hand gently making its way through my hair, stroking my forehead.

      “Come morning light, you and Iʼll be safe and sound.” He stopped singing, pressing a kiss to my head. “I promised you, Princess Brinley Analia Matthias, that one day you would be safe and sound. Now we are.”

      I relaxed into him, feeling my eyelids flutter shut.

      We were.

       After being found by a spy hired by my father, the king, weʼd been rescued, the despicable criminals whoʼd held us and so many other children captive punished to the fullest extent possible. Now, we ruled over my motherʼs kingdom together, safe and sound.

 

      “Come morning light, you and Iʼll be

                                                                    safe

                                                                           and

                                                                                 sound.”

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      After all those years, my motherʼs lullaby finally rang true.

      I was safe and sound.