Bastian
Chapter 144 - Map Of Scars

✧Map Of Scars✧

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The light in Odette’s bedroom never went out. Dr. Kramer came through constantly to check up on Bastian and the maids helped to cool his fever. Odette sat in a chair by the fireplace and watched everything.

   Her mind did not register the people moving around her though, her mind was entirely on what Doctor Kramer had told. The tragic story of a woman, betrayed by her cherished love, and her abandoned son. So ghastly it verged on unbelievable, yet it was an undeniable truth. The doctor didn’t seem like the person to make up such a story. 

   Why, why did you do this!

   Bastian’s angered shouts rang through her head, images of his intense eyes at the moment he had discovered her betrayal.

   She could finally understand the state of his mind on that day. Why he had been so furious, why he decided to be so cruel in his revenge, why he couldn’t let go of the relationship that was destroying the pair of them. 

She understood it all.

   “His fever seems to have finally cooled,” said Dora, as she patted Bastian’s forehead.

   Odette rose from her seat and approached the bedside as Dr. Kramer remove the intravenous needle from Bastian’s arm.  Bastian was still unconscious and his scarred body was exposed as the sheets had all been pulled back to help with the cooling.

   “Would you like for me to set you up a bed in another room, so that you may get some rest?” Dora said. Odette only answered with a shake of her head as she sat on the edge of the bed. 

She looked down at Bastian lost and helpless. There was a deep and ragged looking scar on his chest that crinkled and flexed as he breathed. His shoulders, arms, stomach and waist, everywhere she looked there was only pain, but Odette couldn’t look away.

His body was like a map of scars. The hidden truth, unknown to her, swept in like a tender yet mighty tidal wave, enveloping her heart.

She had never really looked at him before, never seen him properly. She thought that unnecessary attention was only going to make things complicated, in a relationship that was entirely fake.

Amidst her life’s desert, she sought not to be an aimless wanderer, lured by the mirage of an oasis. She shielded herself, closing her eyes and covering her ears. Yet the very sanctuary she pursued was but the heart of the barren wasteland, where her beautiful illusion vanished within the tempestuous sands.

   She regretted the past, when she was in a hurry to avoid reality. She only felt resentment toward him for hiding himself. She hated herself for making such rash decisions that only served to make things worse, and she was saddened by the truth she had only just learned that nothing can be undone. 

As she grappled with the tumultuous tempest within, emotions aflame with rage or perhaps something deeper, the maids started to cleanse Bastian. A subtle crack appeared in her gaze as she silently watched the scene.

   He was a man that strived for perfection in everything. He didn’t tolerate the tiniest bit of imperfection, which made him appear stern. This had the effect of strengthening his body, but his mind was still frail and left him in a condition where others had to take care of him. It felt as though she had beheld the collapse of a once-mighty fortress.

   “Please step aside, I will take it from here,” Odette said impulsively and rose from her seat.   

 “But madam… his condition is still…” 

   “Thank you for all your efforts, but you can leave it to me now, go, rest.” Odette ordered the servants from the room. “I will personally nurse my husband back to health.  It might be better for Bastian to rest if I take care of him myself. It is okay, Doctor?”

“It’s not a critical condition and I don’t think it will be a big problem, but I have concerns about your well-being, Mrs. Klauswitz.”

“I will be careful not to overdo it. If I get tired, I will ask for help, so don’t worry.”

Dr. Kramer, his eyes filled with compassion as if understanding her feeling, sighed in resignation and nodded. “Fine,. I will respect your wishes.”

“Thank you for your understanding, doctor.” 

After Dr. Kramer departed after giving instructions and emergency medicine, which the servants promptly followed. The room plunged into a silence deep as the undersea realm. When she was finally left alone, Odette picked up the hand towel and began cleaning Bastian from his head to his toes. All the while he remained still and asleep.

After she finished, she carefully covered his chilled form with a blanket and returned to her seat. Margrethe, who had been restlessly pacing by the bed, settled back on the pillows near the fireplace.

Odette glared at Bastian with reddened eyes. 

This was unfair. 

How dare he make her feel this way, at a time like this, with this pitiful appearance and making her feel these conflicting emotions. 

With this development, she found it nearly impossible to hate him and it tore at her heart.

   Suppressing the impulse to scream, Odette moved to the window and looked at the the sea’s darkness outside then turned to Bastian in his bed. Night deepened as this cycle continued.

She had reached her limits. 

Odette sighed, eyeing the damp towel in the basin. What a foolish if she prioritized this man…. Her body, not yet fully healed, now was the time to think about taking care of herself and the baby in her belly.

Odette wiped her wet hands but when she picked up the service bell, she found it impossible to ring.

Shadows flittered across the room, like a hurricane of snow petals. Outside the window, a gentle, white descent from the heavens.

Snow graced the earth, quiet descent on the silent sea, as if muting the world’s chorus. Her hands, freed from the bell string, cradled her burgeoning belly.

Soft as a snowfall, Odette walked to Bastian’s side, his fever waxing, his breaths uneven. Quietly, she shed her scarf instead of wetting the towel. Her belt, then her dress, followed the shawl’s path to the floor.

In a moment’s hesitation, Odette gently loosed her nightgown’s neckline. The muted rustle of silken fabric, tracing her seamless skin, harmoniously shared the silence with the serene snowfall, crafting a symphony of tranquillity on this silent night.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The pain from his scar was what woke him. A burning sensation in his shoulder. Bastian roused and laughed, the pain was an illusion, a sensory abnormality. Even in a semi-conscious state, he was able to convince himself that the pain was a lie and ignore it.

   He caught his breath as he chanted the pain is a lie over and over like a spell. It was like any other time he had awoken to the pain, though he did feel it a little more difficult this time, like he was trying to claw his way out of a swamp.

‘It hurt.‘

   Bastian sat up and couldn’t help but pant as if he was a wounded dog. He got images of being in a frozen forest on the afternoon of a hunt, where he was then discovered by the tutor. The tutor looked at him with deep, black eyes and a sign that the cruelty had only just begun.

   The deep black eyes resolved to a dog, one that he had been ordered to shoot, but he didn’t want to. It was no different to shooting a rabbit or a deer, but for some reason, he  couldn’t bring himself to do it.

‘No. I don’t want to.’ 

Shortly after refusing, the rifle’s trigger struck his face, dismounting him from his horse. Only then, grounded, did he grasp what had happened to him. 

Blood trickled from his nose and lips, staining his face. His tutor, a retired military officer, advocated corporal punishment as the ultimate form of discipline. For staring impolitely or daring to respond, each day his tutor found endless unreasonable reasons to punish him. Had the dog not appeared, another excuse would have simply taken its place.

Bastian delicately swept the blood with his sleeve’s edge, standing resolute as he awaited the next punishment.  The tutor dismounted, marching towards him like a raging bull.

   Bastian could still feel the sting of the first slap and then the next and the next one after that. He endured the merciless slaps without letting out a single scream.The tutor was unrelenting in his punishment, but Bastian felt relief that the sudden aggression had scared off the dog, who bounded away into the under brush, out of sight. Then a military’s boot met his abdomen, marking the day’s brutal epilogue.

When he woke up, Bastian found himself in bed, his wounds tended to as usual. That very night, as pain kept him awake, he made a decision :  if he ever encountered the dog again, he would pull the trigger.

However, as the frostbound forest yields to thaw’s touch, birthing leaflets and blossoming floras, the dog still remains in Bastian’s world.  As a result, he found himself repeatedly defying his tutor’s commands, enduring disguised physical punishment each time.  Eventually, he grew sick of the dog’s presence around him.

 It was the day he decided that tomorrow he would part ways with the dog for good.

Drained from an overwhelming amount of homework, Bastian succumbed to slumber, only to awaken on a forest path bathed in lunar glow.  Soft whispers of spring’s foliage unfurling to the wind awakened his memorised ritual. 

He forgot to tie his wrists. 

Glancing down at her grimy nightgown and bare feet, he realised his mistake. When he punished himself for his carelessness,  a familiar bark echoed in the distance – that of the dog, which he had planned to shoot and kill at daybreak.

The moment he stared into the mutts eyes and saw himself reflected back, he knew. The dog kept him company as he walked the forest path in the middle of the night.

As Bastian’s senses swam in reverie, the dog drew near.  Its adoring eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. Though aware he should go back, Bastian irresistibly enthralled by it tender sight.

The dog tenderly licked Bastian’s wounded feet, then nestling against his quivering hand. Its warm, soft fur broke down his defences and as he hugged it tightly, he realised that he was very much alone.

He hated the dog for making him aware of his solitude; an ironic twist, it’s also the reason why he loved it.

   The only thing left to do is kill her. Franz’s voice rang through Bastian’s swimming head. That’s your way, isn’t it? You love something so you destroy it.

   Somewhere, deep in the dark reaches of his fevered thoughts, a gunshot echoed, underlined with manic laughter.

   The laughter sounded like his name and he swam back to consciousness and the pain, but there was also a voice, a soft angelic voice.

   ‘Bastian.’

  It called to him. 

‘Bastian.’

   Something touched him where it hurt the most. He gasped for breath and opened his eyes. He realised he recognised the voice. 

It was his wife.

Odette.

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