Reprise in Rebirth

With a fondness for cooking history, revealed the thoughts of Mister E. A man wealthy of a perilous past erased a harlot’s life.

But why?

Despite his feet beginning to bleed between the seams of his socks, dripping through the sole of his leather shoe, he persisted through the street. Struggling to keep up his pace, flinching on every footstep, and forcing himself to embrace the burning heat of the night.

His footsteps were light. Quiet. Stalking beneath the shadows of the grimy alleyway like a phantom that haunts within the walls of the opera house. Deep down inside, he knew they were looking for him. Maybe they already knew where he was, hiding? Ready to pounce at the right moment.

Eleazar shook these thoughts from his head. He was sure he hadn’t left any clues whatsoever. It was a foolproof plan. Nobody would’ve known that he escaped.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and coated his skin. Constant feelings of dread and uncertainty enveloped his beating heart. Although accustomed to fear, he was certain of one thing, he had never been more afraid in his life.

His senses had been elevated along with his rapid heartbeat and shortened breath. Anything, from the horses that trot along the road, to the jingles of what little to no pennies that had been left in his pocket was clear in his ears.

It baffled him how the town itself felt against him like it was heeding the call of his captors. He had been living in the town for what felt like millenniums, yet, it was still a stranger to him. It was impossible not to believe that every nook and cranny of the town changed over the seconds, leaving him unknown whether he was heading towards the exit or the heart.

No shiny armor to hug him safe, just flimsy and tattered rags clinging to him like cobwebs. The oversized long-sleeved had lost its cuff-links, along with several buttons on his chest, displaying his sharp collarbone and his toned muscle. Left him somewhat bare, but completely vulnerable.

With just a cloak and necessities all tucked away in his satchel, he had left his wealth behind and the leisure of what he assumed at that moment to have been- home.

Though he wouldn’t call it that. He had heard a saying once; Home is where the heart is, and his heart was nowhere in that place.

His other sacrifice of leaving the place is vengeance. Cruel revenge. A plot to kill his life. He was to live a life of danger and caution. One wrong step, and it will be his soul on the line. One wrong move and he will regret it.

’How did we get here?’ he’d ponder.

’When and why?’ More questions unanswered.

How bittersweet the taste of naivete dripping from the eyes and onto his tongue.

Sweet naiveté.

He held back tears, imagining what terror lies in the future. If there’s even a future for him. But he couldn’t give up. Not for a million years. Never will he return to that place and that is a promise he kept for himself.

Silent prayers emerged from the bottom of his heart. For his serenity, and for those whom he had left behind. Eleazar couldn’t risk their lives for most of them had been filled with enough manipulations and false hopes that it had created a disease. Instead of being tortured day and night like him, they found pleasure in it. Pleasured to be used and objectified.

“Mister E…”

Eleazar froze the moment the voice emerged from behind. A shiver trickled on his spine as he imagined, no, knew that the presence was drawing near.

Torturing him with its steady, gradual pace that echoes against the wall. “It’s past your bedtime.”

“Please, Mr-“ Eli began to beg but gasped as a muscled pair of arms slithered around his waist. The strong grasps resembled that of snakes, squeezing the last breath out of their prey.

“You don’t want to leave now, right?” He asked, closing the gap between his lips and Eleazar’s neck with a myriad of soft, chaste kisses. Leaving a burning sensation. “You don’t want to make me sad now, do you? I’ll miss you terribly… It’s scary out there” His poisonous voice then dropped into but a hoarse whisper. “You don’t know what monster lies in the shadows… Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe. I have taken care of you all this time, right mon chéri?”

It took a will of steel to reject the man. In the past, Eleazar never had such will, but for once, he stood his ground.

He had to go. He needed escape. It’s now or never.

“There’s no need to search for monsters in the shadows when one is standing before me,” Eleazar slowly turned.

He beckoned as his eyes met the masculine figure. “You can’t force me anymore. You. Do. Not. Own. Me,"

But his persistent tone was interrupted with a husky laugh. It wasn’t a lie when they said that his laugh was almost seductive, though at the same time, all Eli could hear was hollow, bitter, and sardonic.

“What are you waiting for, love?” He asked, pointing his finger towards the road. “Well then, go.”

It was not an option and Eli knew it. That man is not going to let him go that easily. It was a threat.

“One.”

“Two...”

“Three...”

The man started to count out loud. Every second passed; a figure emerged from the darkness. It was a sign. It was a call for Eli to run.

His shirt flapped with the wind as aimlessly he bolted along the sidewalk. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. No friends, no family. He had nobody; he was nobody. He was alone, in the outside world.

He could feel the last few links on his shirt begin to detach from the garment. Revealing his lithe, pale body, little by little for all eyes to feast on.

Eli was quick, sprinting through strange streets and unknown boulevards. His thoughts had gone wild. It had been minutes, but there was no sight of the monster and his brutal men. What are they doing? Where are they?

The clock tower could be heard from afar, tolling its bell as the needles had struck midnight. From one street to another, he leaped, desperate for an exit.

It wouldn’t be long before they would catch up with him.

Yet in a moment of frantic terror, Eleazar found himself cornered against a dead end, the walls towering much too high for even the deftest person to climb. They drew near with fury in their eyes, casting a mocking gaze at the panicked bastard.

“You can’t run, love.”

Eli’s breath had been knocked out of him as they pushed him against the wall, intoxicated with malicious intentions.

Plagued by practical and mercenaries’ lust, they tore at his skin. Clawing at his throat with a smell of desperation, and a lack of regret.

His sight had been marred with blood that spilled from his forehead. His frail body had been wrapped in a cocoon of agony. Eli had never experienced such brutality; to be beaten to death, with nothing but bare hands, seemed to impact differently than it is to be stabbed by a knife or shot by a gun.

Every blow was calculated and meaningful in a sort. One must be filled with such anger and malice to kill someone in this way, through endless rounds of punches. To be killed with bare hands felt… personal.

He was left with nothing but a sliver of breath in his lung. His bones were broken into pieces, limbs deformed, whereas his skin was covered in bright purple blotches as his insides bleed.

All he could help was whimpers and cries for mercy as he was dragged through the back streets. His arms were slung around two men as they brought him towards the river.

It’s true what others had warned. Eli should’ve never crossed his path with the mafia. He should’ve stayed away. He should’ve listened. But his yearning heart had been stubborn. And now, this will be his end.

Eli was thrown into the water. He was crippled and helpless, under the command of their leader. And just like that, they left him. Left him to drown, alone, wallowing in his self-pity and regrets.

He splashed and flapped his arms about with the slim hope someone was there to see him, but, alas there were not, and, weakened by his severe beating, Eli drifted beneath the water.

But fate had a different path for the god-forsaken harlot.

No, this is not the end of Mister E.

Seemingly dead, deceived by his peaceful state. His breath yet again betrayed him, ever so subtle, in and out. And his pulse remained, beating through his veins, delivering life to the seemingly lifeless body.

The silver lining still remains, The sights he’s left to see. So trust that with this “end” a new beginning is waiting patiently…