A Torment Forgotten

ACT I — Forgotten Past, Forgotten Future

September 6

Brian woke up with a bang!

He suddenly sat up, springing awake, his wide-open, unblinking eyes dead-fixed on the alarm clock. He sat there for half a minute, not moving a muscle, as if his brain was struggling to adapt to something, then quickly snapped back to reality:

Ha! How's that for an early rise? he thought, glancing proudly at the almost-broken clock on the nightstand, which displayed a faded "05:57."

It could have been the strange dream he had or the jolt of pain he felt that made him leap out of his sleep faster than a bird at the crack of a gunshot. But to Brian it didn't actually matter much since he couldn't remember any of it.

Still a touch dizzy from not being fully awake—his senses gradually coming back into focus—he began to notice something unfamiliar: a strange, unsettling sensation churning inside him. It almost felt like a residue from the recent sleep, something uncanny lingering somewhere deep down inside his mind, as if fragments of a dream had slipped into reality, slightly distorting it. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put his finger on it.

Perched on the edge of the bed, feet covered by the soft blanket, he turned to take a look at his wife—Kelly was sound asleep. He remained motionless for a moment, almost enchanted, as he watched her chest rise and fall with tranquil, peaceful breaths. He always felt a deep sense of calm watching her sleep, but right now he felt something different: a genuine relief, an overwhelming gratitude to see her like that, even though he had no idea why.

As he turned back around, something else caught his attention, bothering him ever so slightly: a dull, burning pain radiating from his left forearm, pulsating slowly as if following his heartbeat. He frowned as the dim glow of his night lamp revealed what seemed to be a large scar running across his entire forearm.

Its shape resembled an odd-looking hand, with unnaturally elongated fingers curling around in a peculiar grip. In the low light of the bedroom, it resembled a distorted shadow that a human hand might cast when illuminated from a specific angle. Brian didn't recall ever having seen it, and he was certain it hadn't been there when he went to bed the night before.

Damn! The alarm! he thought as everything else suddenly vanished from his mind. He quickly reached over to the nightstand and unplugged the digital clock, leaving a slowly fading "05:59" on its display, then let out a sigh of relief. After all, he didn't want to unnecessarily ruin his wife's sleep if he could help it.

Initially reluctant to give up the cozy warmth beneath his blanket, he finally shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, relying more on a mental effort than physical.

"What the hell?!" he whispered to himself, glancing down at his body. His clothes were soaked, like someone who just climbed out of a swimming pool fully clothed. He frowned as the thermometer on the wall only read 19°C. He checked his forehead to see if a fever was the culprit, but his skin was as cold as a snake's.

A cold sweat... he thought as he lowered his hand, remaining still for a moment on the edge of the bed with a somewhat bewildered look on his face. Since he couldn't find a good reason for it, he chose to shrug it off as he always did when something odd happened, then got out of bed to begin his usual morning routine.

He took a quick glance outside the bedroom window through his dusty, old Venetian blinds and let out a slight grunt. With the early days of September having already made their appearance, the weather outside felt not so welcoming anymore. The wind was faithfully whistling its chilly autumn tunes, as it always did every single year, while the sky patiently grew darker in subtle shades of gray with each passing day. Brian usually wasn't one to complain about the weather, but this year, the light autumn chill felt as if it were creeping up on him for some reason.

Stepping away from the rattling window, he turned to check on Kelly, who was still sound asleep. Then, moving as silently as he could, he took a pair of underwear and a clean towel from the drawer and, after closing it with such precision that would have made a neurosurgeon jealous, headed straight for the shower.

After about a quarter of an hour, he returned to the bedroom only to find an empty bed and a semi-open window. He thought that the scenario might have made him raise an eyebrow if it weren't for the soothing smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of a softly hummed tune coming from the kitchen. Even though the tune was not quite "in tune"—as Kelly wasn't known to be the most talented singer on the planet—to Brian, it sounded nothing short of pitch-perfect.

It was only a simple habit of hers to just hum away while working on something, but to him, it meant a tad more. It somehow always made him feel like all his worries were carried away by the sound of it and had always managed to put a smile on his face whenever he heard it.

After he got dressed in his usual (and rather unoriginal) working outfit—a pair of gray trousers and a plain white cotton shirt—he entered the kitchen. Despite his previous efforts, his wife still got out of bed. But how could he have gotten anywhere close to being upset when the mesmerizing aroma of coffee had his nostrils already trapped like a powerful, spellbinding charm?

Following the scent trail, much like a cartoon character, he silently approached Kelly from behind with the intention of planting a kiss on her cheek. The moment he did, her response was a muffled scream and a jolt that firmly planted one of her bony shoulders right under his chin.

As his head was jerked backward and his vision blacked out for a moment, he suddenly found himself struggling to remember the reason he went to the kitchen, or even more, to whom the kitchen belonged in the first place... He staggered on his feet with one hand raised to his mouth as Kelly turned toward him, white in the face and clutching her chest.

"My God! You scared the living crap out of me!" she whispered, breathing heavily. "Ouch! My shoulder!"

"Yur shuldr?!" Brian mumbled through fingers pressed against his lips. "Wut aboot mi chin..."

"Great God... And with those windows rattling... God damn it, Brian! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Ahm srrey hun... Dudn meen tscar uh..." He stopped for a moment, taking his palm off his mouth and checking it for blood. "I mean, I didn't mean to scare you like that. Damn... Please tell me I've got at least half of my chin left!" he said after shaking his head, raising his face toward the ceiling as Kelly slowly crossed her arms. "I don't think I'm ever gonna make a full recovery. The damage might have been so great that I probably have no more than two we..." He stopped mid-sentence as he lowered his head, meeting Kelly's cold gaze. "I think I'll go and take another shower..." he concluded in a defeated voice.

"I think you'd better get your ass down to the table right now and zip it!"

"Oh, but of course, Milady, for thy wish is my command," he said as he bowed to her in a royal fashion. "Oh, for thy beauty can make any man, young and old, fall to thy knees as your... Got it," he added shortly, assessing the danger. "Table. Seat."

"Quite talkative this morning, aren't we?" Kelly asked, smiling as she poured her husband a cup of steamy-hot, pitch-black coffee while he finally sat down on one of the chairs.

But aren't you gonna drink yours, oh young princess?" he asked after noticing only a single coffee mug on the table, taking an arrogant posture that lasted for about half a second until he met Kelly's death stare again. He then immediately started focusing on a dirty spot on the floor, looking as though in it he had found the deepest secrets of the universe.

"That's what I thought," she sneered triumphantly. "And no, today will be my lazy day. After you leave, I'll just crawl back under that warm blanket and drift away in a deeeep, deep slumber. Then I'll just wait for my prince to come and wake me up with a true love's kiss," she said before raising a hand over Brian's head. "Now go, servant. I release you from my spell!"

"I hate you. Don't you talk to me ever again."

"Awww, I love you toooo. Now don't forget to take out the trash when you leave," she ordered as she left for the other room, ending her sentence with a coughed-up "servant."

"Just... just leave me be!" Brian said with a sigh as he put one hand over his chest, seemingly in pain, while grabbing his precious coffee mug with the other at the same time. After taking a quick sip—that made him feel like the high heavens had descended upon his lips—and putting down the mug, his forearm suddenly came to mind.

"Hey, by the way..." he said, stopping Kelly in her tracks right in front of the bedroom door. "Do you happen to know where I could have..." He paused abruptly as he rolled up his sleeve.

"...could have what?" Kelly asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I thought... I could have sworn I had something on my forearm this morning. Like a scar or something," he said, frowning slightly as he examined his arm. It looked just fine—smooth and unblemished, just as he always remembered it. "Well... I guess I was still half-asleep," he concluded, forcing a confused, rather silly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, it happens," Kelly replied, her warm smile easing the tension in the air. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah..." he replied shortly, his mind still lingering on the strange feeling of uncertainty, before she turned to leave the room, heading back to their bedroom.

Shrugging it off as was his norm, he went on with his usual morning routine. A couple of minutes later, he got up and took the packed lunch that his wife had prepared for him while he was showering, carefully placing it inside his bag.

Kelly always made sure to have food packed and ready to go for her husband each and every day he worked, even though, funnily enough, he always tried—and failed—to let her sleep in. It was one of her ways of expressing gratitude for the fact that Brian, despite working for both of them—and usually overtime—never once complained or pressured her into finding a job for herself. She enjoyed preparing the meals, and he enjoyed eating them. Quite a team the two of them made.

When he was ready to leave, Brian went to the bedroom and took the car keys from the nightstand—but not before kissing his wife goodbye. He then stepped out of the house, momentarily taken aback by the sudden chill of the wind outside. After getting into his car, he carefully backed out of the alleyway, finally setting off for work.

Brian Vaughan was a proud-to-be Naval Forces officer who had faithfully served his country for the past decade. His great service allowed him to rise steadily in rank, and shortly after being made a captain, he managed to get himself transferred to the Department of Intelligence, a position he felt was more in alignment with his character—in other words, replacing fieldwork with a desk job.

If someone were to describe him using only one word, "calm" would undoubtedly be the right choice. So much so that even he seldom wondered how he managed to blend in so well with the nerve-wracking environment of the military system and, even more so, how he always managed to keep himself up to par, no matter the task at hand.

When it came to looks, his appearance didn't reveal much about his character; in fact, it did quite the opposite. Measuring just shy of six feet, Brian was a tall man, gifted with an athletic body that, in addition to its eye-catching looks, knew how to flawlessly perform what a strong and healthy body is supposed to do.

With broad shoulders, not overly thick arms, a slim waist, and a pair of powerful legs, it was almost as if every one of his muscles, from head to toe, had been carefully sculpted by a skillful carver who had strictly chosen functionality over bulkiness. So, even if his personality was worlds apart from what his current occupation required, at least his body, along with its arrow-straight posture, was another matter altogether.

The top of his head was covered by a dense layer of dark blonde hair that, given its wire-like texture, led him to always keep it military short. His facial hair also shared the same shade of blonde, which—except for his eyebrows—never had the chance to prove itself, as he always kept his beard and mustache fully shaved.

His hard-lined facial features—which stood in opposition to his mellow way of speaking—gave Brian a subtly imposing presence that commanded a certain, subconscious level of respect from those he interacted with. Overall, one could say his physical appearance—highlighted by his upright posture—emanated a sort of arrogant air that constantly surrounded him; however, in reality, he was quite the opposite.

Brian was raised solely by his father after his mother had tragically passed away on the same day he was brought into the world. This event occasionally filled him with a deep sense of disgust whenever he contemplated the price his mother had to pay for his existence. Paradoxically, that same thought also instilled in him a profound reverence for her and for the fact that he, of all people, was granted the chance to be the fortunate witness of so many tomorrows.

But that was how his mind operated most of the time—almost always cluttered with often conflicting feelings and ideas.

In the days of his youth, Brian's father had proudly served his country in the military, so it was no wonder that his son was well-acquainted with all kinds of army—and even war—stories from an early age. His father spoke about the old days with such fervor that it always made his eyes sparkle with nostalgia. His biggest regret was that he had no choice but to retire relatively early due to an unsightly leg injury he sustained during a mission, a wound that left him in a constant companionship with a crutch ever since.

Though he never voiced it, a deep-seated wish lingered in his heart for his son to follow in his footsteps, a desire that was unmistakably reflected in the passion with which he recounted his experiences. Ultimately, however, he chose not to interfere, allowing Brian the freedom to carve his own path, as long as it remained within the bounds of legality.

Right after Brian's high school days came to an end, the sudden, unexpected death of his father compelled him—without a trace of doubt—to enlist in the military. And so he did. On the clear, sunny day of his enlistment ceremony, amidst the crowd of excited graduates, a pair of unblinking emerald green eyes gazed sorrowfully up toward the vast, deep blue sky. Streaming from them were two subtle strands of tears that ran down Brian's cheeks, only to collide beneath the middle of his chin.

The increasingly large drops that formed, no longer able to hold on due to their own weight, were inevitably doomed to embark on their first and last journey toward the dried, dust-like earth beneath his feet, each one spelling out a muffled string of letters with its last, dying breath: "Here's to you, my father... my soldier..."

After Brian's mother passed away, her family unexpectedly decided to sever all ties with her widower husband, mercilessly forsaking her only son in the process. Being an immigrant, Brian's father chose to leave everything and everyone behind the day he crossed the border as a free—but solitary—man, determined to start anew. Following the heart-wrenching loss of his wife, the only living true relative and friend he had left was his newborn baby. Consequently, he made Brian the center of his universe, and everything he did from that moment on stemmed from a pure, fatherly desire to offer his son the best life possible.

Brian was the type of guy who didn't talk much, and usually, when he did—when he considered it strictly necessary, that is—it was appreciably brief. Therefore, it goes without saying that throughout his life, socializing or making friends was definitely not his forte. To put it another way, if one was the life of the party, Brian was the outermost shell. All of this was further amplified by the void that the death of his father had savagely carved into his soul.

As life went on and the years passed, he inevitably began to piece together the many tiny, broken fragments of himself, yet he quickly came to realize that time alone was unfortunately not enough. Just when he started to feel like he would never be whole again, a newfound ray of light suddenly flooded his vision, warming him from the inside and driving away nearly all of the darkness that had long resided in his heart. And that light happened to have a name; and her name was Kelly.

Kelly Vaughan was—put simply—a sight for sore eyes. Everywhere she went, she was accompanied by an air of elegance that constantly surrounded her, an impalpable aura that effortlessly made her stand out from the crowd. To further augment her imposing presence, her above-average height placed her above all the girls in her social circle—and even some of the guys. In fact, she was slightly taller than her husband, who, on every possible occasion, denied it with all his might, often claiming it was either an optical illusion tricking people's eyes or a conspiracy against him, plotted by his wife in collusion with the government.

Wherever Kelly went, she proudly carried herself on a pair of beautiful, long—but not overly long—legs that seamlessly balanced the soft curves of her hips, which elegantly faded into a slim waist and a flat stomach. At its upper limit, her stomach sloped softly upward into a modest-sized chest—that she always kept hidden beneath her clothing—only for everything to smoothly culminate in a graceful neck that led to her enchanting facial features.

No matter which day one saw her, Kelly always managed to give the impression that her long, straight, pitch-black hair had been undeniably enchanted with an everlasting shine, perfectly capturing each and every ray of sunlight it encountered—especially when she habitually passed her delicate fingers through its sleek strands. When untied, her hair fell just shy of reaching the back of her elbows, perfectly enhancing her pretty facial features. With her fair skin providing a striking contrast, everything culminated smoothly in the two deep black dots resting behind naturally long eyelashes, seemingly completing that intriguing physicality of hers.

And no matter where she went—almost as if to top it all off—she always looked cheerful; always wearing her big, beautiful smile. But sometimes, things are not always what they seem at first sight. And oftentimes, much more can be found beneath the surface.

Beneath the thick shell of apparent traits that defined her character, something colder lay deep within, hidden beneath the warm coat of lies she had grown accustomed to wearing. Kelly was, to put it bluntly, a girl who resembled a heavily locked chest more than a human being. The one who possessed the means to unlock it would be blessed with the treasures found within, but cursed would be the one who tried to forcefully pry it open.

Unlike Brian, Kelly was a purely outgoing type of person. In stark contrast to him, a significant portion of her calmness was definitely absent, and this became quickly apparent each time someone—no matter who—crossed the thin boundary of her mental and emotional space, threatening her preconceived ideas and beliefs.

Just like her husband, the way Kelly looked and acted did little to reveal the true contents of her heart, especially given that her behavior often leaned toward a subtle rejection of everyone around her. It all began on one particularly "cloudy" day in her early adolescence when she dishearteningly realized that in the very world she had been thrust into—without any freedom of choice—the good and kindhearted were doomed to inevitably fall and violently drown in the turbulent sea of human-shaped pieces of cardboard collectively known as "society." The sheer disappointment she felt since that day compelled her—more or less consciously—to erect a barrier around the very essence of who she was, in a futile attempt to shield herself from the pain.

Born and raised with goodwill in her heart, she discovered that the world returned it to her in the form of subtle, seemingly well-intentioned hostility. Feeling utterly defeated by this harsh reality, she resolved to raise her defenses as high as possible, vowing never to be wounded again by the piercing thorns of her kind-smile-faking brethren. That was her response to the world, and within it, she found her only means of preserving her mental sanity. Or, in her own words: "Treat others like shit, and they will treat you like shit. Treat others with kindness, and they will still treat you like shit, only wrapped in a better-looking package."

Raised by both of her parents, Kelly spent her entire childhood and adolescent years in her parents' house, located on the outskirts of town—the same town where Brian happened to live. After her high school years came to an end, she decided to further her studies at one of the city's universities. Thus, the natural course of action was to move long-term into town, to a place that would make the college easily accessible.

Her parents were a kind, family-oriented couple who had always been supportive of their daughter, no matter what she set her mind to. As their only child, Kelly received a sometimes obsessive level of attention and care from the day she was brought into the world. They showered her with love, and in return, Kelly reciprocated wholeheartedly, even though, as time went by, she became increasingly less adept at expressing it. Her parents were the only two people she could truly trust, and the special place she reserved for them in her heart was untouchable by anyone else. Ironically, just when she was entirely convinced that there was no more room in that same heart, life set out to prove her wrong.

Kelly met Brian a short while after earning her college degree. Freshly out of the school environment and feeling the need for a break, she, along with a few of her former colleagues, decided to book a couple of rooms at a not-quite-inexpensive hotel on the nearest beach—located along the edge of the city—for a few days. It was almost as if they were attempting to prove their bravery against the punishing forces of nature by facing the harsh, hard-hitting rays of the midsummer sun head-on.

At roughly the same time, Brian arrived at the beach, the very next day after Kelly's group checked into their newly booked rooms. With his house located relatively close to the much-coveted stretch of sand, he thought it would be a good idea to put his day off to good use and fend off some of the scorching heat—even though his fair skin had considerably tilted his preference toward the colder seasons.

After tossing a towel, a pair of shorts, a bottle of high-quality sunscreen—with the highest degree of protection he could find—and his trusty old pair of slippers into his bag, he set off toward the shimmering, deep blue ocean. Once there, it didn't take long for the two to bump into each other, even though the odds were, at first glance, clearly not in their favor—with the beach packed with tourists and locals alike, both in and out of the inviting, lukewarm water. Or maybe... just maybe, it was the other way around, and there simply was no one sensitive or receptive enough to pick up on the subtleties that permanently surround those chosen to feel Life's warm touch.

The fact that their personalities were almost opposites might have been the catalyst for their intertwining chemistry, as from the very beginning, the two attracted each other like exceptionally powerful magnets. An attraction that day did not care one bit about the massive throng of people acting as a barrier between them—or about anything else, for that matter.

Since the very birth of their relationship, each possessing what the other lacked, they began transcending into one another, unknowingly fusing into a whirlpool of duality in an unseen, wild yet peaceful dance of light and darkness—the inception of a complete circle of Yin and Yang.

Throughout the first few months of their relationship, the two lovers developed a layer of true, raw feelings for one another—a layer that ran so deep it made them both genuinely feel as though countless years had already passed since they first got together. Before they even realized it, each filled the other's heart to the brim, making it whole.

A couple of years later, as a testament to their genuine love for each other, the two finally got married. Kelly's life had, without warning, embraced a third person to care for, while for Brian, Kelly became his one and only true lover and friend. To top it all off, the two were a perfect match when it came to laughter, both possessing a solid sense of humor—awkward and strange most of the time, but solid nonetheless.

Straight out of the gate, Brian adopted a caring, overly protective demeanor toward his wife. Even though her inner defenses initially tried—more or less unconsciously—to reject it, she gradually came to trust and love Brian with all her heart, slowly transforming her initial hesitancy into a dependency built upon her husband's powerful affection for her.

It goes without saying that throughout the years, there were the occasional, inevitable sparks that ignited, flying chaotically between the two. But they always burned away into nothingness just as quickly as they appeared, never managing to light an actual fire. Thus, the only torch—the only bright, warming flame that remained lit between them—was their shared desire for one another.

Their relationship was—as all things are meant to be—certainly not perfect, nor a fairy tale, but one could safely say that it was getting scarily close to that faraway line. Fate had decided to give them the chance to see the sun rise high in their personal skies once again. They were given a much-needed reason to genuinely smile, a reason to look forward to another tomorrow; and after they unanimously decided to trade the city life for the suburbs, with Kelly's parents frequently paying them—sometimes more than necessary—visits, they suddenly found themselves with no time left to feel bored or be engulfed by monotony.

So that's how it went for them. That was the way the gears of destiny were set into motion: two lovers swaying in the winds of Fate, two souls that became a singularity.

But as nothing is meant to last forever, their turn was destined to come on that day—the day when everything turned to dust. The day when man would wish for death, but Death would be seen no longer...

That morning, Brian arrived early at his relatively new workplace. He parked his car in the usual spot and, fighting against the strong gusts of wind that sprayed cold drizzle from every direction, hastily headed straight for the office building.

"Morning, Capt!" a colleague of his—one of the guards at the main entrance—said as soon as Brian entered the main building. "The early bird catches the worm, eh?"

"Morning!" Brian replied, wiping away the many tiny droplets of cold water that had stuck to his face. "Well, I actually left home at the usual time, but the roads were unusually clear this morning," he added as the colleague stood up, leaning over his rather tall desk to accept Brian's handshake. "What's up with the weather, though?"

"I actually haven't got the slightest clue... Haven't been outside since last night."

"Oh, night shift."

"Yup. About half an hour left until it ends, then it'll be me fighting against the weather."

"Well, I wish you good luck with that," Brian said, jokingly cringing his face in an exaggerated manner.

"Thanks, I guess..." the man replied, laughing softly. "Well, assuming the weather doesn't get my shift replacement first."

"Well, I wish him good luck with that," Brian replied, wincing again as he continued on his way.

"Not so high in hopes today, are we?"

"Kidding, of course. Wish you a wonderful day!" Brian concluded, smiling as he casually raised a hand to his forehead in a salute.

"Same to you, Captain!" the man replied, slightly bowing his head. "Same to you!"

Brian continued on his way, but just moments later, as he was about to turn a corner and get out of the colleague's sight, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"They who will knock three times will no longer be themselves..."

"I beg your pardon?" Brian asked as he turned around to face the man again, subtly twitching his eyes in response to a jolt of pain in his forearm.

He remained in place, curiously glancing at the now-empty entrance desk. He could have sworn it was his colleague who spoke, but strangely enough, nobody was in sight anymore—not even on the other side of the large, shiny glass panes near the entrance. After a brief moment of confused staring, Brian turned around with a shrug, leaving the now-deserted hall behind him.

With no further distractions along the way, he finally reached his office. The day got into gear as usual until, a couple of hours into the schedule, one of his coworkers entered Brian's office, carrying a cardboard folder in his hands.

"Here's the file you..." the man began, but stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Brian's raised palm, only then noticing the cellphone pressed to Brian's ear.

"All right, K," Brian said after a few seconds of silence, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "I'll... Yeah. Right. I'll come right away. Love ya."

"Is everything okay?" his coworker asked.

"Yeah..." Brian replied, pausing for a few seconds after placing his phone on the desk, looking flustered. "No... Look, I really gotta go."

"Go where? What happened?"

"I'll fill you in on the details later," he replied, quickly gathering a few things off his desk before starting to walk toward the door. "I need to take the rest of the day off. Can you find someone to replace me?"

"No need," the man replied shortly. "We'll manage on our own, don't worry. Just be careful with what you tell the higher-ups."

"I've already got that covered."

"Good. Now go sort your things out!" the colleague said, nodding in agreement.

"I really owe you one!"

"Don't mention it," the colleague replied as the office door was already closing behind Brian, ending its journey with a muffled clank.