Desmond sighed deeply, watching her go.
He should have imagined that things would end this way. That it would have been more beneficial to him, to everyone, if he had kept his mouth shut like a good boy.
Nothing good could have come of his incoherent babbling without a point of reference.
And, as expected, the catastrophe had taken place.
He couldn't rest. He couldn't enjoy a single completely normal day.
Since he had boarded the train, his life had been one hell after another. Maybe that would seem like a melodramatic statement now, but who knew how the situation would play out because of the bad impression Amy had gotten?
He didn't know why she was hurt.
He didn't know why it had affected her to such an extent, why she had jumped to conclusions so easily and in that direction.
But, as he had thought before, the damage was done.
At this point, telling the truth was the only option he had.
The truth was harmless.
Christina wouldn't like that he had broken their implied promise, but he would put up with it if that way he could avoid an ugly confrontation.
He should be running after her instead of thinking about useless things.
Well, they weren't useless things. Thinking about them right now was a useless thing.
That's right, why was he standing here? Because of the surprise. Because he didn't know what to do. Because he was really, really afraid of making things worse. But those were just excuses.
Standing still would only add to the wrong impression Amy had gotten.
Right now he should be chasing after her, he should be calling her to apologize, about to hug her from behind....
He should be showing his sincerity, and at the very least, at the very least, correcting his mistake.
Desmond turned on his heels.
He felt sick. He felt like he was going to throw up at any moment.
But at least he was able to catch up quickly, even though he had lost so much time.
Not because he used his magic to get the advantage, but because, apparently, Amy had slowed down as soon as she was out of his sight to such an extent that you might say she was slogging rather than walking.
She was listless. It wouldn't be strange if she didn't have the energy to run, even though she wanted to get out of his sight.
No, she was running. But inside her own head.
Going around in circles, over and over again.
Trying to calm down or preparing for the confrontation with Christina. No, surely both at the same time. Even she herself wouldn't be sure what she was going to do until she did it!
"Wait a minute.
Amy tensed, but didn't stop. She kept walking.
She might have been so deep in thought that she wouldn't even hear him, but that little reaction confirmed that she had noticed his presence. And that was something.
Still, he felt a pang of intense anger.
Not at Christina who had been the catalyst for this situation, in the strictest sense of the word, but at Amy for reacting this way.
So excessively. Like a child.
Of course it would hurt, he had figured it out himself before Christina even told him the truth, but it wasn't something to get so worked up about either.
He had said Amy was a normal person, but this couldn't be normal, could it?
No way.
No way.
That fit of rage passed and left only a thick feeling of guilt.
Desmond couldn't belittle her feelings. He barely knew her, barely understood her. So he too was showing an unreasonable attitude. Many reasons could have led her to act this way.
He had no idea of the darkness in her heart, and he had no right to pretend that she should be able to overcome this easily as he would, who wouldn't even see it as a problem.
All people were different.
He reached over to Amy and put a hand on her shoulder.
"We're not done yet."
"Let go of me," and there was something in her strained voice.....
"Listen, Amy," he continued, ignoring the uneasiness that had assailed him. No, something like a dark premonition. "We have to talk, we can't leave it like this. You have to listen to me."
"I said, let me go!" Yes, there was something in her voice that shouldn't be there. For some reason she sounded scared.
As if he was going to hurt her. Something unthinkable.
For him, at least. But not for her, apparently.
Or no. What exactly was she thinking?
What was she experiencing now?
"Let go of me," she repeated, "now!"
Amy turned around, trying to wriggle out of his grip. Desmond, unconsciously, without thinking, because he didn't have time to think, tugged at her, resisting.
That was his mistake.
Although he didn't realize it until later. Of course.
After feeling the pain.
After experiencing the sensation that his chest, as well as his insides, were being crushed.
After his lungs were emptied of air.
After he fell to the ground on all fours, struggling to breathe.
He tried to process what had happened.
Amy...
Amy was looking at him, and her face reflected horror, but it was not like the fear of before. Before, she had been afraid of him. Or of... of well, something that wasn't herself. But now...
Now things have changed. And, looking at the block of ice in the grass, Desmond understood why.
In Amy's eyes was the worst kind of fear. Fear of herself.
Desmond shivered at something that had nothing to do with the coldness the ice block gave off.
He hadn't expected a battle, hadn't expected anything like this, so he hadn't been reinforced.
Upon impact, the block of ice Amy had conjured up could have literally crushed his chest.
He would have died almost immediately.
He could have come back, but now that he knew that his wasn't true immortality, he couldn't be sure....
Besides, that wasn't what mattered.
Amy had attacked him.
The ice block had grazed his chest. Just grazed.
Still, he had experienced the illusion of his chest being crushed. The pain had been horrible. The pain was horrible.
But no worse than knowing Amy had attacked him!
Yes. It wasn't a repeat of last night's events, with a new piece in Laura's role.
It wasn't even a repeat of the events of the entrance exam, which had taken place in this very forest. It wasn't an enemy ambush. It was not a full scale attack to exterminate them.
Amy had simply used her magic against him, outside of training. With intent to harm him.
Why?
Why?
Why?
In the girl's eyes, he saw that, if she even knew the answer, it didn't seem like an excuse to her. Of course.
He had done nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
He had only pretended to help her, and this was how she repaid him? Really? He felt like throwing up. Maybe Amy's violence hadn't really been directed at him, but at a ghost in her mind.
Still, he was the one who had paid the price.
It was he who had been hurt.
It was he who almost didn't make it.
The surprise faded. The pain too.
And finally fury won. Not hatred, not yet at least, but fury. If he had ever felt just as furious, he couldn't remember it.
Desmond rose slowly to his feet, with effort, having to hold on to the tree trunk against which the ice had pushed him to stand.
His legs were shaking.
And not only that.
"You have no right! "His voice, too. Not to mention his thoughts, he couldn't think straight. It showed in what he had just said. It sounded small, insignificant. It sounded like it had been a slight, but not severe. Not like she had tried to kill him. How did you...? If I had known this was what was waiting for me when I got back, I....
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There was a lump in his throat. He swallowed.
No. She hadn't tried to kill him.
She almost had, but she hadn't intended to. What was worse was that she had gotten this far without trying, but it was true.
He had to calm down. At least one of them had to keep calm if this was to go well. If it was even possible in the first place.
But the pain made it hard to focus, let alone calm down.
Desmond grimaced.
He put a hand to his chest, squeezing. Some of his ribs had to be broken, but he thought that was it. The ice block had grazed him, throwing him like a rag doll against a tree.
Still, the damage could have been severe, but he'd been lucky.
All he had, he was pretty sure, were broken ribs. No... what was the word? Internal bleeding. Not that.
He pushed magical energy into and through his chest.
It couldn't heal.
His knowledge of magic wasn't that spectacular or refined. The only thing he could do was strengthen his body. That didn't have the convenient side effect of healing him, but, by reinforcing the broken parts, he could at least stop things from getting worse before they had a chance to examine him.
Or at least slow the process down a bit.
That wouldn't make this searing pain go away, but it was something.
"I..."
"Amy," Desmond said, stepping forward. The girl responded to that by taking two quick steps backward. Steps?
It looked more like she had staggered backwards.
"I... I didn't mean to..."
Desmond continued to advance toward her. The words. He wasn't good with words. He'd tried to fix things that way and look where it had gotten him.
So...
Amy looked away and cringed as if expecting him to strike back.
But she stopped moving.
Staring at the floor between her shoes, she stood there like a child waiting for her punishment.
Desmond hugged her against his chest.
But Amy didn't begin to relax, quite the opposite. She tensed in his arms as if the embrace was a sign that something even worse was to come. No, a confirmation.
As if she would have been calmer if he had punched her, instead.
It was strange.
The whole thing was... surreal, like a strange dream, too long and elaborate.
He was about to let go of her and do something else, he didn't quite know what, but then she relaxed. She was clearly forcing herself to do it. Still, it was progress. It mattered.
Desmond was silent. This was working, or at least it seemed to be, so he didn't need to do anything else.
... To be honest, what he was afraid of was ruining it as soon as he opened his big mouth.
Amy was the one who broke the silence, finally.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
That wasn't true. He knew what had happened to her. But forcing her to explain...
No, it couldn't be said that he was forcing her to explain, even if he tried. Because, after something like this, Amy had a responsibility to explain herself.
She had no right to hide behind a hackneyed phrase like is personal.
On the other hand, pushing her at a time like this surely wasn't the smartest move. Desmond coughed loudly, from the pain that had taken root in his chest. Roots full of thorns.
He didn't spit up blood, though. He didn't notice its metallic taste in his mouth.
He would... he would have to shut up and wait for her to explain herself without needing to push her, driven by her sense of guilt.
He felt despicable, even though Amy had almost killed him, fuck, he still didn't quite believe it, but he had to rely on that tactic.
He couldn't poke her when she was unstable.
"It 's okay. It's alright," he said.
"It 's alright. Nothing's wrong," he said at last.
Perhaps he had waited too long to speak for it to sound natural.
"Yes, there is!"
I know that.
"I... If that had... " She didn't sound like she was about to burst into tears, but there was a lot of pain in her voice. It was hard for him to keep the flame of his rage alive when he was face to face with that pain. "Gods, I could have killed you."
"No," she lied, "I saw it coming, and I reinforced myself at the last moment. Even if you had better aim, you couldn't have killed me at all."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'm a tough guy, you see," and he gave a smile as insincere as his words. He hoped it would measure up, but it probably didn't.
"Still, that I did that... it's unforgivable.... I, at least, will never forgive myself.... I would never forgive myself even if you were a complete stranger.... Ah, I don't understand how it's possible for me to do something like that. That I would lose control like... like... like... like... like... like..."
Her voice and body were shaking too much for her to make it all the way through.
She seemed to have relaxed, forcibly or not, and maybe she had been. But, in that case, she had simply crumbled again. She was crumbling before his eyes and he didn't have a clue what he could do.
Giving the natural response he believed would only make things worse.
Ask him why she had done it. Lose control. Get her to talk about her history...about the darkness in her heart.
However, continuing to tell her that everything was okay, even though it clearly wasn't, that he didn't hold a grudge, wouldn't fix anything either.
Conversations were a type of battle, but not one for which he was a suitable soldier. He was unarmed, or perhaps it would be better to say that his sword wasn't sharpened one bit.
In any case, he wouldn't get out of this one alone. I wish Christina were here, he thought.
Then he immediately recoiled.
Would that really be such a great thing? That, a few hours after she had returned from the hospital, where she had almost breathed her last, she would have to face this personal problem that had no easy solution? That it might as well not have any kind of solution at all?
No, he decided. No.
Christina didn't have to know about this. She didn't have to face more stress unnecessarily.
Unlike the secret she had told him in the hospital, in this case it made sense for the other party to be kept out of the loop.
What had happened in the forest was nothing more than a poison that would spread through the veins of the group, slowly killing them.
They needed to be able to trust each other.
They needed to be a team.
They couldn't be a team that only functioned on the battlefield. At least, he didn't want to be stuck with that kind of mess on his hands.
He wanted Amy and Christina to be more than just people to kill their enemies alongside.
If that was all they were or could be to him, he wouldn't have made the decision to stay.
Yes.
He wanted... He wanted a team like in an adventure novel. Partners to lick each other's wounds, to grow together, to become stronger. That kind of glowing development that looked like a dream from the distant shore he was standing on.
So, whether he liked it or not, he had to work it out for himself. For everyone's sake.
Especially his own.
"No one can be perfect all the time. "An empty cliché. Sure, no one could be perfect all the time, but between not perfect and almost killing someone in the middle of a nervous breakdown was a big gap.
"Me less than most. "A heavy sigh" "But I don't even want to be perfect. I just want to be... good.
There was a certain resignation in her words.
As if she was talking about something that was just a dream, though she would keep looking for it anyway. Until she ran out of time.
Desmond gathered his courage.
"Can we talk about it?
"More than we can, we have to," Amy replied, echoing his thoughts.
The boy nodded.
"Give me a moment, just a moment, to think. Get my thoughts in order.
Amy led him to a clearing in the woods. He got the feeling that she knew the path by heart, that it wasn't as if she'd stumbled upon this place by coincidence and sat down on the ground, telling herself that this was as good a place as any for their talk.
So he wasn't the only one who went to the woods to relax.
He wasn't the only one who had his rituals.
Well, of course he wasn't.
As Desmond sat down next to her, Amy took off her boots, one by one, and laid them face up on the grass together.
She dipped her bare feet into the water.
"I don't know if this is taught," Amy began, "at least I haven't seen anyone talk about it, but being in touch with my element...it relaxes me, and ice is just a different form of water. Or rather, it helps me put things in perspective. Sometimes... sometimes I feel that it's not that water and ice pass through me, but that I am those things and I pass through a temporary vessel that thinks it's a master of the forces of nature."
Amy laughed softly.
"Ah, I said it in a very strange way. You probably didn't understand anything... Anyway, it's kind of hard to express, and that's not what it's about anyway. Our conversation. I... Desmond... I owe you an explanation, but at the same time I don't want to give you too many details. Because I'm not ready yet. I know it's cowardly, but is it okay with you?"
"I'll only be able to tell you if it is or isn't when I hear what you have to say in full."
Amy laughed again. It didn't look like a forced smile. If it was, he couldn't see it.
"I love your sincerity. You don't measure your words, but I don't mean that in a bad way. A person like that is natural. No, sincere. It's much better than the mannequins I have to deal with... which brings me to what really interests you. What I want most is to be accepted. That's why it bothers me... it bothers me so much that you are hiding something from me. I trust you guys. I really do. Maybe more than I should, since we've only known each other for such a short time. But I can't stop thinking about it. And my mind tries to convince me that it's something bad. That it's something that would prove... that I've been believing in a sham. I can't get it out of my head."
Amy lifted one foot, pulling it out of the water, splashing a little, and put it back down.
"But that wasn't what made me lose control. It was you. "She grimaced. "Not that I'm trying to blame you. You're not to blame, but...."
"What was it? "he asked calmly.
"You grabbed my arm and pulled me really hard, twisting my wrist. "Amy smiled sadly. "That's it. That's it."
Desmond turned that over in his mind.
And, like a hamster trapped in a wheel, he got nowhere.
"I'm no closer to understanding what happened than I was before.
"Listen..., you put in more force than was really necessary. And, as I felt your strength... I lost my nerve. Do I really...? Do I really need to say it any clearer?"
She had tears in her eyes.
His strength. Feeling his strength. Pulling her. Maybe this was one of the things that should be obvious, but....
"I'm sorry. I really don't understand."
Amy didn't respond.
She curled into a ball, withdrawing. In that posture, with her bare, wet feet visible, and that expression on her face?
She looked vulnerable.
She looked like a child.
"You... You pulled me with good intentions. To make me explain. So that it wouldn't end like this. But... I'm more used to that... to it being for other reasons..."
Oh.
An explosive mix of emotions assaulted him.
Chief among them was shame, shame that he hadn't noticed. For having forced her to go to such lengths.
But most of all there was anger.
Desmond clenched his fists.
"I'm sorry."
Amy didn't want to tell him the details, and Desmond didn't want to hear them. All he wanted was to put his hands on the neck of the son of a bitch who had done that to her.
"I'm so sorry. I wish... I wish... Was it one person or several?"
"One," Amy said, slowly and after a long time. Long enough for him to come to think she wouldn't say anything. That was all he was going to get out of her, which was more than enough to forgive her. At least for him.
"Give me their name. You don't have to tell me the details. Give me his name and I can get rid of that person."
"What?"
"Classes haven't started again. They're still getting organized, controlling the situation, or trying to. I can go in and out. No one has to know. I'll make sure he never lays a finger on you again."
Amy looked at him with wide eyes as if he had said something shocking, out of place.
Or almost...almost...despicable?
Desmond didn't understand this either.
She had an enemy, didn't she? Therefore, the most natural course of action was to get rid of him, and the sooner the better.
She was far away from that person now, but that didn't mean Desmond could overlook everything they had done to Amy in the past, that they were the kind of person capable of such terrible things in the first place.
Beings like that were animals, not people.
Like Laura.
There were too many animals mixed in with the real human beings, it seemed.
One was already too many.
Two, however... It made him sick just thinking about it. Those animals only deserved to die. They deserved to suffer as they had made the others suffer, and then die while drowning in regret they could never make up for.
"Yes, I know what you said, but.... No. No."
"Why not? That person has hurt you. He abused you and he... he left you scarred with fear of him. He has to pay for that. He has to die."
"You don't have to tell me. I want him dead more than anyone. But you don't understand."
"I don't understand because you haven't told me," he reminded her. " But I don't see any reason not to get rid of him."
"I... His death would only make things worse. I'm not willing to tell you any more, but believe me. Don't insist, please. Don't insist."
"Amy, I love you."
Her cheeks lit up for some reason.
"All I'm trying to do is help you."
I'm here, swallowing the pain of what you've done to me, holding back, listening patiently... because I love you.
But he kept that to himself. Because it sounded too much like a recrimination.
Because it was.
It was coming from the vengeful part of him that refused to let go. But he would.
It would take time, but he would do it.
He didn't know what that animal had done to Amy... the kind of atrocities he'd tormented her with.....
But, as he had said, he had left her scarred. It was too late to keep that part to himself, but, as unpleasant as those words sounded, it was the truth.
Even in a situation that had nothing to do with that person, something only vaguely similar to what that person had done to her stirred up bad memories in her.
It had put her in a state of fight or flight. And she had chosen to fight immediately.
Without thinking about it, without her having to think about it.
That spoke volumes.
That said a lot more than she could have told him in her own words, he thought.
"It is," Amy said, looking away, "And you don't know how grateful I am to have a person like you by my side. It seems to me like a dream... A beautiful dream that I don't want to wake up from. Even though it's not half of what I want... or that I haven't earned it, I have the feeling that you mean it one hundred percent. In spite of everything. That you're not lying. But I'm responding to your sincerity with sincerity. Killing him... even if you had your way, his death would only make my life worse. I would lose the freedom I have now."
Amy put on a panicked expression.
As if she had made a mistake.
Talked too much.
Something like that. But Desmond couldn't quite understand it. I mean, there was an obviously weird part, he realized right away. But as to what meaning that part concealed, he had no idea.
Even if he left no trace, even if he committed the perfect crime, would Amy lose her freedom?
If something went wrong, it would be Desmond who would pay for it.
Amy wouldn't have to be involved.
He would go to jail instead if that's what it took. But, despite that, Amy refused because she would lose her freedom.
And what exactly was her freedom? In what sense hadn't she had it before?
Desmond wished he understood things better. Now more than ever, he wished....
But wishes couldn't change anything. Wishes only shaped individual fantasies.
Reality was cold and hard as metal. Impossible to bend.
Or this emptiness in his chest, as if his heart had been ripped out.
"All right," he agreed to respect her wishes.
But this was not the end, he promised himself.
This was only the beginning.