Day 13, 6:10 PM
“Take a chance on me.”
— ABBA
I release her. The massive knife clatters against the paved road, and she falls on her butt, splashing water.
My heart pounds, as does my head. She’s looking at me with eyes I never wished to see in a woman I love. The world stops. The only sound I hear is our breathing and droplets merging into a puddle.
I look towards the dripping and see crimson beads landing into the puddle next to my feet. Red disperses into thin threads, spreading, conquering the clear water.
“I’m sorry,” my mouth moves. “Your words hurt me. I wasn’t thinking straight. I can escort you to safety and leave. Or I can leave right away. You can wait for them to catch you here, or at the inn. Just tell them you escaped your captor.”
I’ll find something else to do, another riot to start. She’s not the only woman in the world. I know that the story of one true love is Bizney’s notorious children scam; one all too many adults grew up seeing. What we all need is someone compatible, with similar tastes and worldview, and decent sex. Or at least I need decent sex. There must be plenty of people out there who prefer doing cats or embroidery over their beloved humans.
Manuella doesn’t say a word and just stares at me. Her hands tremble.
“Why?” the word escapes her shuddering lips.
“Because I care. Because deep down you are a queen. You are a lioness. They just beat you and hurt you so many times you forgot who you are.”
“Who are you? How do you know me?”
“I’m Aang, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” she begs. I think she’s seriously considering running away from me, staying in the inn until the guards find her.
I open my mouth and close them. I look down and stare at my bloodstained boots. That gives me an idea.
“Look at our boots, please,” I say, and she does. “Consider them, think about them. In your head, without speaking, describe them in one word and let me know when you’re done.”
She’s confused, but nods.
“Done,” she says after barely a second, staring into my eyes.
“Inferior,” I say, and her pupils widen slightly. “That is one word you would use to describe our footwear.”
“It is,” she says, but regains her bearing. “So what? Many people would call them inferior.”
“I certainly wouldn’t. Especially not the better pair,” I say flatly, but don’t elaborate and change the subject. “When you fantasized about escaping from the brothel, your plan was different from what we did. You would…”
I describe her ideal escape plan. Something she never shared with anyone. She’s breathing rapidly.
“How do you know that?”
I almost tell her, but I don’t. I’ve reached this point, and I won’t blather out something she can’t believe. Not without working my way up.
“Is there anyone in the world, other than you, who would know this?” I ask, and she frowns. She’s thinking hard, and I help her out of the puddle.
“It’s too cold for you to go around with wet pants. We’ll head into the forest now, light a fire five hundred yards from the road, and settle for the night. Nobody would think we traveled less than a mile before making another camp.”
She nods, still thinking, and I leave her to her thoughts while leading us into the forest.
“I think only I knew about my escape plan,” she says finally.
“All right,” I move a thorny branch out of my way and let her pass before letting go. “That means, there’s only one person who could have told me about it. Right?”
She nods. It’s a small, reluctant gesture, but it is an affirmation.
“I’m confusing you. You sometimes think I’m a kid, sometimes an old man, and you don’t see how those two work together. Right?”
She nods, but she’s not surprised. I guess she thinks I can deduce that one easily.
“Now, have patience. All of this is leading to my answer, and I will definitely answer before we go to sleep. I will now tell you a series of hypothetical situations involving you and a complete stranger. When I ask what you would do, you think of an answer and I will tell you what I know.”
I retell her part of my previous life and our time together. The first is about how we met, and how she didn’t believe I didn’t know who she was. About how she huddled in the corner, and how she followed me. How we escaped.
“I would not have said that.” she says while the fire crackles between us. “I would never suggest for us to go to Dolacia. Not unless…”
She looks at me and goes silent.
“You mean it would be stupid? We would be strangers in a strange land, and everyone would try to scam and cheat us? Maybe even enslave us? You would only mention it if you wanted to steer me, if you wanted to show me how horrible the alternative to rebellion was?”
Her pupils widen once more as she looks at me.
“Yes.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“That’s fine. I knew,” I smile. “Now, let me ask you once again, is there any other person who could have told me this? Anyone who could have guessed it? Anyone in the whole wide world?”
She’s silent. She’s silent for an awful long time. Finally, she shakes her head.
“No. Nobody could have guessed all that,” she says. “I do not believe there is.”
I look at her, and my gut feels like it decided to start learning yoga, stretching this way and that. My heart races, and my chest is tight, I don’t want to, but I have to say it.
“I’m about to say something you won’t believe at first, but you will agree it is the only thing that makes sense.” I feel like I’m building up suspense in a cheap movie, but making her make the logical connections between the dots seems like the only good way of forcing her to comprehend my situation. Our situation.
“You told me all that,” I say. “There is nobody else in the world who could have told me.”
“I never did.” She shakes her head. Understandable.
“But there is nobody else who could have told me right?” I ask again. “Only you. Once you agree that it makes sense, I can continue the explanation. You don’t have to agree it is what happened, but you have to agree it is the only logical conclusion.”
“Fine, it is the only logical conclusion,” she says without hesitation, and I stare at her.
“You don’t believe that. You’re just curious.”
“Tell me already,” she’s getting anxious.
Makes sense. I was digging up her personality for half an hour, telling her freaky, uncomfortable things about herself, sometimes guessing her reactions word for word, and now I feel glad I slipped in that joke about fucking for forty minutes straight. That one I got word for word, and she was shocked.
I draw a deep breath, accidentally making another dramatic pause. “I go back in time two weeks after I die. The questions I asked aren’t hypothetical. They are what really happened between you and me. I died holding off four bloodhowlers, four handlers, ten guards, and some dangerous dude in yellow-black livery.”
I look at her, and it’s clear she doesn’t believe me.
“I know you don’t believe me. You might even think me insane. That is fine. I want you to understand one thing. I love you. You wanted to sacrifice your freedom and endure a torment to buy me time to escape, to live, and even if you don’t think that now, you did once, and I believe you will again.”
She doesn’t believe me. I knew she wouldn’t. Still the reality of my situation hits me like a hammer.
“You probably think I’m crazy. You have every right to it. I want you to know one more thing. When I die, I explode, killing those around me. If things turn dangerous, run away from me. At least fifty feet. I know it sounds insane, but even insane, I’m someone willing to guard you with everything I have. Use the insane person standing before you, I am willing to be used.”
She nods. She thinks I’m a psycho.
“And I thought of a really simple way to prove this the next time I die.”
She looks at me, and I can see a hint of interest in her eyes. Maybe she believes me a bit.
“Every evening, before sleep, you will think of one word, one color, and one thing you saw the previous day that caught your eye. Then, the next evening, before we go to sleep, you tell me the things for that day, and think of new ones?”
I’m proud of myself and my idea, but I still have to ask.
“Do you have any suggestions on how we could improve the test?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you think I should buy anything else if I go back in time when we have shopping options?”
She shakes her head again. “No. This is fine. We have too many things already.”
“Most of these were your suggestions, as was most of the escape plan. I still don’t understand why you changed your mind about the goat? We could have taken it with us and had some fresh milk for a day before letting it go.”
She gives me a weird look. However, it’s not the ‘are you stupid’ one.
“Right, next time I die, and when I tell you all those things you and obviously only you know, will you believe me, or will you still doubt me?”
“I do not know,” she says slowly. “I do not think so.”
I rub my face in exasperation. “Then, what can I do for you to trust me?”
“I do not know.”
“We can talk about this in the morning, when you have the time to think about this properly. But please tell me anything you think of.”
We eat dinner, and she’s quiet. She doesn’t say a word and neither do I.
“Do you want me to tell you what happened last time?” I ask and get a firm ‘No.’
“Good night, then, and make sure you think of those things for the night. Please. I’m begging you, don’t just go to sleep and make something up on the spot tomorrow evening.”
“I will take your request seriously.”
“Right, one more thing. From now on, you will lead us. That way, nothing will change when I walk differently. Don’t worry, I will be a step behind you, and I will protect you.”
***
Day 29, 3:40 PM
Two weeks pass without major incidents. So, I decide to make one. We are still in the forest, Manuella is walking in front of me.
“Hey,” I say, and she turns around.
“Here, have all these things, pick what you need.” I give her my sacks. “You said we were close to Holgord. You can make it there on your own, right?”
“Why?” She relaxed greatly over the course of two weeks, but the way she’s looking at me is all wrong. She’s treating me like a dangerous mental patient, and the depressing feeling is getting to me.
“I’m going to kill myself.” She gasps, I have no idea why. I endured the awkwardness just so I could do this.
“Fourteen days ago your words were Girohaf, peach, and a speck of dust. Now, please, you can either move away fifty feet, or I’ll go back.”
“Don’t do this.” She’s shaking. There’s concern in her eyes, fear, but it’s the kind of concern you have for an insane passerby. For someone you don’t really care about. Maybe for yourself, since you don’t want to see what’s about to happen.
“I don’t know how this works for you.” I keep talking in a calm voice. “The world may continue to exist, or it reverts back with me. In the latter case, you will cease to exist, and I’m sorry about that. In the former case, you should move towards your goal, and do what you want. Maybe make your brother king, if you find him. I do not blame you for my death. It will hurt for a couple of moments, then I’ll be back two weeks ago.”
“No, you will not! You will die!” She panics, and yet all I feel is bitterness.
She’s just clutching to a useful straw. Using the insane fanatic.
“I will sleep with you, if that is what you want,” she says, and my lips twist in disgust of all things. The idea of the embodiment of passion I shared my nights with offering me a pity-fuck makes me nauseous.
I push her away. “Leave. Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I draw my heavy-duty forester knife. The suicide tool of my choosing. I picked the massive knife because it wouldn’t break under great strain, for example when I dig for faux potatoes, for example when I pierce my temple while stabbing myself into my brain.
“Please stop,” she backs away a step, afraid for herself, further disappointing me. “You are unwell. You are just a child. You don’t know what you’re doing!”
I run away from her. “Don’t follow. I explode on death. Fifty feet should be safe.”
The branches and leaves rustle against me as I run. Several birds are singing happily. I think it’s a mating call, a search for someone who would trust them, and whom they, in turn, can trust. I want a mate. One is screaming behind me. She was my mate once, not now. Now she’s just a concerned stranger. Before we were together, now I am alone with her. I am insane.
I smash the blade into my skull.
I am dead.
I explode.