Maybe she’s still there. Maybe she’s not there. Either way, I find myself wishing she was in front of me right now so that I could grab that mask of hers and stomp it into scrap metal.
Of course, I’d vastly prefer it if she was still human. Humans have all sorts of tissue to tear out and shove down their throats. I’d kill her over and over again, painfully and brutally, and finally get the satisfaction of ripping her apart that I missed the first time around.
That nightmare I had - the one with the cube and the beast - had me wake up in quite a sour mood. I didn’t feel well rested at all, and I groaned as I turned off my alarm and got out of bed. I ate some breakfast, did my exercises and showered, and then I could finally leave the house to take care of the shit that needed to be taken care of.
Right now, I’ve just made it past the graveyard. I continue on my way, walking deeper into the forest. There was actually someone else at the graveyard beside me there this time - some old man bringing flowers to a grave. He didn’t seem to pay me any mind, though, which was good.
I wonder if they'll give Joanna a grave in that yard once they've realized she's not coming back. Her family was from Rapperu, after all, and her brother was at the supermarket nearby. But they could live on the opposite end of town for all I know. Would I even be able to find her grave?
No, I wouldn't be looking for graves that far in the future, anyway. I'd be too busy being a god --
I stop.
...Right. I don't know what I'll be doing. Because, given all that's happened… I don't even think I’ll be the Bringer.
Does that mean that I’m gonna die? Oh Gods --
No, don’t jump to conclusions. You’re still useful to HIM. Even if you’re not the Bringer, you can still become immortal. Someone else can be the Bringer, and you can be among the other predators. Someone high-ranking. I’ve done enough for HIM to get a favor like that, right?
But I’ve failed HIM. I gave into my fear during that incident with the spiders, and in that chapel illusion… I thought of Minty. It. No, Minty. I’m through pretending. I can’t deny my bond with Minty anymore, even if HE told me to break it off. That much is clear.
Though… it’ll mean HE will be angry. Oh Gods. HE will want to punish me, and it’ll be far worse than whatever Joanna put me through. Maybe HE will force me to bring him back to that cave I found him in after all. Then I would actually die. I’d live a mortal life fearing that emptiness to come for decades before it comes and takes me. And then it’s nothing, forever.
My breath and steps become shaky. I don’t want to die, no. I have to plead with HIM to spare my life. I have to make HIM understand that my bond with Minty isn’t something I’m holding on to to defy HIM, but something I’m just unable to erase. Have HIM see it as a wound, a disability, and not a problem with obedience. Because that’s what it is, right? And if that’s what it is, HE will see the truth, and HE will know that I’m not lying. And HE will spare me.
I’m not fully convincing myself here, but I should hold on to that hope for now. I need to do what I came here to do anyway - if I do end up staying mortal, I’d at least like to spend my remaining time as a free man rather than behind bars.
The rest of the walk to the cabin proves uneventful. No animals sighted outside a few birds, no people save for myself. Most importantly, no pink-haired girls. But the cabin itself may be another story.
I step into the opening, careful not to rustle the surrounding ferns too loudly. No signs of life around or in the cabin, visible or audible… yet. Keeping my caution, I circle to the opposite side, then approach the old red shack slowly. I reach the window and peek in.
Nothing in this secondary room. I move on to the door, finding it cracked open. It's unlikely that she'd leave it open like that. Me, however… I think the last time I was here, I rushed out in some kind of… bloodlust-induced haze, so I very likely didn't properly close it after myself.
I open the door and look inside. No one’s there. Judging by the mattresses thrown on the floor, no one’s been here after my last visit. That’s good.
Alright, that’s one out of three things off my to-do list. I should get to the second before it gets dark.
I exit the cabin and retrace my path back from when I first chased Michi. Nothing off on the way there, not that I expected anything. I took a brief detour to check out the spot where I made her corpse disappear - the mold was kicked around thoroughly, leaving no sign of the disintegration circle. Anyone coming across it will either fail to notice it or blow it off as the result of a scuffle between wild animals. Perfect for me.
Finally, I arrive at the murder scene.
The dirt of the ground appears naturally distributed. No blood can be spotted off the bat, but I take a closer look. I'm especially careful in checking the patch I knew she died on. I search even for hairs, but nothing’s there. It’s clean.
I circle each tree within a two-meter radius, carefully inspecting their bark for markings. I'm shocked to find the nuclear launch codes carved into one. Just kidding. There's nothing here, either.
That's two out of three. Only one thing left to check. It isn't as simple as the others, though - I have to wait for it to come to me.
I sit down by one of the pines and lean onto its trunk, sighing. I draw my lungs full of the pure forest air. My eyes close by themselves.
Michi… either she's dead, or she's long gone from here. I'm considering the first option more likely, as I would've expected to hear something from her by now had she escaped. So, I have good reason to believe that I really did kill a child. I am a child murderer. Not just any child, but an orphan. Although, isn't that less bad in a way? She's got no parents to mourn her.
No one to mourn her…
Well, that's not right. Michi was a clever, resourceful girl. She had promise. She deserves mourning far more than the annoying little brats I usually see stumbling about. But they'd get it if they died, she doesn't. Why do their memories get to live on when she becomes forgotten?
I know I felt hatred towards her. I know I wanted to make her suffer. But those feelings were really for Joanna, weren't they? She was the one controlling Michi in those illusions, the hand behind the puppet. It's really her that deserved the pain. What Michi got… it wasn't personal. It was just what my hunter's instinct told me to do.
I should've hunted someone who had it coming. Kill one of those worthless brats, not rob the world of a prodigy. If raised right, she may have even become a predator. A packmate. On the other side of the teeth.
But now she's gone. And I'm the reason why.
So I should be the one to bear her memory.
I open my eyes. The woods welcome me back. I eye the patch on which she died, the whole area. There's nothing really special about this spot - there are hundreds more just like it. But I think there should be something. Even just a little something.
I get up and search for… anything pretty or peculiar, really. Smooth rocks, flowers… I think I see some white over there. Could be what I want.
Yeah, they're flowers. Strawberry, actually. That'll do just fine.
I pick a few of the flowers, find a smooth rock about the size of my palm and return to the scene of her death. I place the flowers on the dirt and pin them down with the rock.
It's a very modest grave, but a grave nonetheless. Now there's something left of her that everyone can see. They won't understand it, but they'll know it must have some meaning. As did her existence.
Yes, this and the lock of hair in my basement will preserve her. Maybe the flowers of this grave will wilt and the rock be knocked around, but this memory will last. She'll continue to exist in my mind, my mind alone…
...wait, didn't she mention something about ghost friends?
Yeah, when I was following her for the first time, she spoke to Joanna about some other ghosts. I totally forgot. She was friends with all of them, right? I just never saw them because, like she said, they were used to leaving her alone with new ghosts for a while…
I guess she won't be forgotten, then. Essentially ever. Ghosts are practically immortal. I got worried all for nothing.
I guess that also means this grave is kind of useless… should I take it apart, to erase my tracks completely?
...No. I'll let it stay. It's a nice thought.
"Pi-pi-pi-pi-pi-pi…"
Birdcall. There's what I need for the final item on my to-do list.
I sit back down to make it easier to stay still and return the pippiret's call. "Pi-pi-pi-pi."
I hope the birds aren't too afraid of me after last time. If that really happened. That's what I'm trying to find out, actually.
Fortunately, after a few more calls and a couple of coos, a small brown bird emerges from hiding. It jumps from one branch to another, each a bit lower than the last, ever so slightly pushing them down upon landing. Its tail flicks to help it balance itself. Birds are such acrobats...
“Prrruuuu...” I coo softly, encouraging it to come even closer. It flutters down onto the ground in front of me, good.
“Hey, birdie,” I whisper. “Say the words.”
It stares at me, beady eyes innocent and curious. “Pi-pi-pi?” it chirps, pacing about on its scrawny feet.
“Complete the sentence. ‘Ichiro Akai…’”
Its bulky beak stays shut this time.
“‘Ichiro Akai…’” I try again, breathing a bit more easily now as optimism creeps into my brain.
The pippiret runs a circle, then hops onto the tip of my shoe. It twirls in place, studying the odd material it’s on, then ruffles its feathers and sits still.
It doesn’t seem to care about these words. I sigh, relieved. So either Joanna never actually taught them the words or they’ve been forgotten. Both are good. I could leave now, but… I like this little pippiret. I may as well stay until it gets bored of me, which I can’t imagine taking too long.
The pippiret has started preening. It’s pretty. Its wing feathers are neatly placed side by side. Its neck is twisting to impressive positions as it tidies its plumage. Its markings are simple but iconic…
...wait, why’d you stop?
The bird has raised its head and is staring through me. Its feathers are now tightly kept against its body. It’s become as still as a sculpture. Is it… scared?
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
It opens its beak. Nothing’s coming out. What giv-
“He’s coming.”
What?
The bird just spoke, but that wasn’t my voice, that wasn’t even Joanna’s voice - I’ve never heard that voice before. It was female and young, but it wasn’t Michi. It was older.
“He’s coming,” the bird repeats, the voice now distressed.
“...Who is?” I ask quietly. Who taught it to speak that way, and what kind of situation was she in? It’s not related to me, is it?
“He’s coming!” the bird whispers. The speaker sounds like she’s about to cry.
“Who is?” I repeat.
Thump.
...What was that? Was that a tree falling down or --
Thump.
“He’s coming!”
Thump!
This thump was much louder, loud enough for the pippiret to take flight, wings frantically beating against the air. It disappears into the treetops.
Okay, what the hell’s going on? I get up and turn around. The thumping’s coming from over there, right?
But there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just more trees and their swaying branches.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
It’s getting louder. What is it? What’s making this noise?
No… no, no, don’t tell me…
Crrrr-rack!
A big, low branch in the distance breaks. It reveals…
Not you. Not you!
Almost as if it’s heard my thoughts, its lips pull back into that horrible grin. Its blazing yellow eyes stay nailed onto my face, never once blinking as the pitch-black monster approaches. Every step is a quake.
It’s one thing to be afraid of a monster. It’s entirely another to know that it means you’re insane.
Joanna never left.
My hands draw to my head, nails digging into the scalp. No, don’t let this happen again. I’m so done with this. I want to be free.
The beast comes closer. A hungry growl leaks out between its teeth along with strings of sticky spit. It wants me shove me into itself just like I did to Michi. Though not before it pulls off each limb and chews them clean. Tears out and slurps in my organs. It loves blood, it loves flesh, it loves violence. I know because it was born from me.
Well, what do I do now? Do I follow my instincts and run even though I have no chance of getting away? Do I stay and try to fight? Neither will end well. I’m gonna be torn to shreds, feel that pain, then wake up knowing it’ll just keep happening. I’ll just keep on seeing things that aren’t there until people notice and I’m thrown into some white cube to spend the rest of my days in. Unhappy, fearing my inevitable death - and still seeing things, if Joanna manages to fuck my brain up that badly before leaving.
Or, even worse… she already did.
So that’s it, then? All of that shit’s gonna happen to me and there’s nothing I can do about it? All those years predetermined, and I just have to simply sit through them until death comes to take me?
Feet unable to carry me, my knees meet the ground. I slouch to save myself the sight of the beast’s blinding eyes. The earth shakes, and my body dreads the crushing teeth soon to pierce it, but my mind can’t escape the thought of who’s really responsible.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
If Joanna’s there, she’s listening. If she’s not… shouting at nothing will just suit a lunatic like me.
All the strength that’s left my limbs gathers at my vocal cords. I fill my lungs for the desperate cries to come.
“I can’t give you what you want!”
It echoes from tree to tree. The beast’s steps don’t waver. Not that I expected them to.
“I can’t give any of it!” I continue, having found some shred of solace in the yelling. “Confession? Killing myself? Being sorry?”
I grimace. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t be sorry! I just can’t! I’ve never been able to! You may as well be screaming at a deaf man!”’
The beast stops. Probably just to plan more carnage, though, so who cares.
“And I can’t tell them,” I say, no longer shouting. The strength I had has already begun to run out, I see. Every word seems to be quieter than the last. But if I’m already talking, I may as well keep going...
“And I can’t kill myself. Because I wanna live. I wanna be happy. At least content. And it just happens that the only way that can be is if I do these things. Trust me, I’ve tried to live like you, but it just doesn’t work, because there’s something… different about me. Wrong with me. I'm not…”
...And, just like that, I don’t know what to say.
The words, of which I had heaps just a moment ago, have run out. Whichever part of my brain was feeding them to my mouth has jammed. All I can do is breathe, face burning, eyes watering.
I think it's because… I just admitted something I've been avoiding for a long time.
That there's something wrong with me.
“...Dude.”
What? Who?
I look up. Purple. Purple flame. Glowing yellow eyes. Wisp. What? Why?
“There’s no monster,” it says quietly, tonelessly.
And… it’s right, the beast is nowhere to be seen. But… what…?
“It was a fake,” it continues, its eyes shrinking as if blinking even though it has no eyelids. “I was just messin’ with you, dude...”
Its voice is female and somehow familiar… was it the one from the pippiret?
Wait, it’s saying it was messing with me. That was all… set up by this wisp? But that makes no… or does it?
“Y-you made --” I try, but the voice is weak and phlegmatic. I clear my throat. “You made that monster?”
The wisp nods.
“How did you make it… look like that?” I ask. “Like that, in particular?” How does it know how the beast that’s been terrorizing me looks? Has it read my mind? Fuck, does it know what I did?
“Uhh… I mean… I don’t really control the details,” it says, looking away. “Like, the way it works is that I show people something vague and make them scared in a way that they fill in the blanks themselves… I mean, that’s how my friend describes it. She knows a lot about ghosts, like, book stuff.”
Friend…?
The wisp makes eye contact again. “Right, yeah. Speaking of my friend, have you seen her around? She’s a human, pretty young. Pink-haired girl. Answers to Michi.”
Hearing about the pink hair gave me a zap and the name a full-on strike of lighting. I hope I didn’t show it too much. Looking at the wisp, I don’t think it noticed.
“No, sorry,” I say. “Haven’t seen anyone like that.”
“Oh. Okay. If you see her, though, tell her Gabby’s getting impatient. The new guy can’t take this long to break in.” The wisp hovers a bit further. “Uh, and sorry about the scare. You looked like you could handle it, but I guess I touched on something personal, like drama with an ex or… whatever. Bye.”
“...Bye,” I respond as the ghost floats away, disappearing into the trees. I swear I could’ve heard it call me a ‘weirdo’ under its breath on its way out.
I get up, dust off my clothes and stagger back onto the path. I just wanna go home now. This week’s been too much. As if one ghost wasn’t enough, now I had to meet another…
Well, I guess that settles the Michi thing, at least. She’ll definitely be remembered, with or without a grave, and fondly so.
Good, because I’m sure as fuck never coming to these woods again.
----------------------------------------
Something wrong with me…
I can’t shake that thought. Haven’t been able to since I left the woods. It keeps echoing, never fading, no matter how many times it bounces off the walls of my skull.
I always knew I was different. That others would think something’s wrong. But to say it really is wrong, the opposite of right…
I thought everyone else was wrong. HE thinks so. HE says us predators are what humans should be. Further evolved.
But is it really so? Maybe for the other predators, but I… I don’t know how it’s so hard for me to just live. The prey seem happy enough, and the predators blend in… I definitely don’t blend in. From the perspective of both prey and predator, something is off about me.
So… what am I?
Faced with my house’s front door, I have to stop walking. I wonder if it’ll put a halt to these thoughts. I’d sure like that - I’m so tired from all that’s happened, today or this entire week… I just wanna rest. Physically and mentally.
I twist the key and open the door.
“Red?” asks Abe’s voice from deeper in the house. Rushed steps come, and the boy appears in the hall, shaken. “Red!”
I sigh. Is something going on? I’d really not deal with anything more today. “What is it?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Abe sighs. “I didn’t know where you were, and there was a bear warning in the area...”
“Oh.”
“B-but you’re fine,” he breathes. “So I guess...”
He trails off, unsure how to continue, only looking down with his hands grasping one another.
I get the craziest idea.
“Hey.”
He looks up to see me approach. His right leg wavers, considering a step back, but freezes as he realizes what I’m doing.
I set my arm on his back and draw him close. “I’m fine,” I say. I don’t know how true it is.
Abe’s tension deflates, though not entirely. He leans into me. His arm twitches, but he decides against raising it. We stay like this for a few seconds.
Well, there you go. There’s your hug. I don’t know why it matters to you so much, but now that you’ve got it, you better not beg for it anymore. The only people I allow to touch me any more than this are doctors, you know.
I let go of Abe and walk past him to the living room. Right now I just want a spot to crash and lie on like the animated corpse I am. The couch is the closest. Guess I’ll take that. I walk over and --
Oh. Right. You. You exist. You with your soft white fur and your big blue eyes.
Not wanting to deal with this right now, I go for the armchair instead. I reach it and collapse.
“Meow.”
That soft little meow…
Listen. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’ve already lost the position of Bringer, the thing I’ve been struggling to achieve for years. I might not even be worthy of being a predator anymore. How much of a sin can it be if I, at this moment of weakness, let my true feelings be?
“...Hey,” I exhale and look at Minty.
Minty. The white cat. My best friend.
Oh, how I’ve missed you.
He’s looking at me, curious, lying down in the middle of the couch. After a while, he resumes grooming himself.
I sigh. He’s such a cleanly cat. Pretty, too. And cute, very cute. Which is strange. Why do I find things cute? Isn’t the reason humans find things cute because they remind us of our young? Yet I hate babies. Can’t stand ‘em. And that makes sense, considering my disdain for the weak. I am a predator.
Yet the predators in the wilderness… still take care of their young. A mother bear will fiercely protect her cubs. An alligator will use her crushing jaws to gently carry her hatchlings to water. Wolf pack members will care for the alphas’ pups. Wolves, the very symbol of predator.
I know that my lord says that these instincts are outdated, that a logical being shouldn’t need these ancestral urges to protect and raise the next generation, but if they don’t get in the way… what’s the harm? It’s not like Minty is a burden to me. I’m not the one paying for his food and vet bills. Even if I was, Minty would be paying it all back with the joy he’s bringing me. It would be a net benefit to me.
The Bringer cannot love, but I’m not the Bringer. I’m a regular Helixian, the kind that can still have a family. Someone else is the Bringer. Someone I’m sure I’m going to have to find and bring to HIM, but that’s a worry for another day. Right now…
I take a deep breath in and sit up. “Minty.”
Minty stops his grooming, frozen with his tongue still outside his mouth.
I reach down a hand and rub my fingers together. “Pspspsps.”
Minty gets up and makes his way to me. He pushes his head into my hand. His fur is soft, warm. The touch of it calms me like a drug.
I breathe in, breathe out. I scratch behind his ear. He trills happily. He then draws back. I realize what he wants to do and lean backwards.
Minty jumps into my lap. He finds a comfortable position and curls up, facing me. I take my hand onto his side and slowly stroke his fur. Softer. Warmer. A sensation I’ve been craving ever since I denied it from myself.
He purrs. He’s happy.
My eyes tingle and begin to water. I squeeze them shut. Tears begin to leak out. My breath is shaky. I gasp a sob and grimace.
I’m crying. The proud predator is crying.
I don’t care.
…
Minty moves under my hand. I open my eyes. He’s raised his head.
He looks at me and meows. I stare for a moment before I realize what he wants. Oh, shit. I forgot to feed him before I left.
I smile anyway. “You’re hungry, huh?”
“Mrow.”
“Let’s get you fed, then.”
I lean forward and Minty jumps off my lap. I get up and make my way to the kitchen, where Abe is sitting. He’s smiling, too, though confusion mixes into his expression. I guess he’s not sure what’s going on with me, but sees that I’m smiling now and figures I must be in a good place.
I open the cupboard and take out a can. It’s the new brand I had to get since the old one was out of stock at the supermarket, but Minty hasn’t minded it the past few times he’s been fed, so it doesn’t ruin the moment. I open the can and take out a fork from the drawer, then bring both to Minty’s food bowl and scoop out the can’s contents. Once I back off, Minty lunges in to feed.
I place the fork in the sink and the can in the garbage. I decide also to refresh his water before stepping back again and simply watching Minty eat. Once he’s licked the bowl clean, he looks to me before heading back to the couch. I follow him and take a seat next to him. He climbs in my lap again.
For added comfort, I raise my feet onto the couch and lean my head on its end. Minty migrates from my lap to my chest. I feel my heart beat against him as I begin to stroke him again. He breathes calmly, and so do I.
It’s serene, but the mood is soon ruined by a realization.
The world is going to change. Judgment will come, and it won’t be brought by me but someone else. I place my hope in being made immortal, but Minty won’t have the same luxury.
I suppose I can keep him safe if I keep him hidden or stay by his side at all times - the other Helixians would see that he is my property, and by Helixian law, a Helixian shall not harm another Helixian’s property without good cause - but there will still be fear and uncertainty for the both of us.
And I’m going to have to say goodbye to him someday as well. Before HE told me to let him go, I’d just assumed that I could make him immortal once I ascended, so I didn’t think too hard about him dying. After that, I was too busy trying to already leave him behind in life to ruminate on his death. Now… I have the time to think about the fact that I can’t save him from oblivion, the infinite suffering of death.
It hurts. It shouldn’t happen. But it is just how things are, and I have to find a way to be okay with it.
I think the way to begin is to make sure he has as good of a life as I can possibly give him.
I notice my pulse has quickened. I better let these thoughts go for now. Wouldn’t wanna ruin this for Minty, too. I sigh and close my eyes.
At least I’m pretty sure by now that this is real.
----------------------------------------
“You seem tired.”
I look at her, trace her red-rimmed glasses with my gaze. Dr Jordan Marsh. I didn't think I'd ever be glad to see her, but here I am, happy that she accepted my request to meet her here at the café, outside a clinical setting. She takes a sip of her coffee.
“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “Nightmares.”
Yeah, it would’ve been great if all my problems had vanished along letting Minty back into my life, but reality had other plans. The question of Judgment and Minty’s mortality wasn’t enough - I needed to get nightmares, too. As if I hadn’t already suffered through plenty during the possession.
"What kind?" she asks.
"I'd… rather not get into it," I say. Nightmares about being imprisoned in a white cube don't sound like something an innocent man would have.
"Nightmares are a common post-possession symptom," she says. "Not surprising you'd have them."
"I see." I pause for a moment, but then remember why I'm here. "Right. I should get to the point." I clear my throat. "First of all, thanks for agreeing to meet me."
Dr Marsh nods, seating herself opposite me and lowering her coffee on the table. "I don't normally meet my clients outside work, but I can't deny that I'm curious as to what you have to say."
"Well," I sigh, "the first thing I want to say is an apology. I must have given you quite a scare with the way I was acting."
Dr Marsh waves a hand. "It's alright. You were under possession at the time. You can hardly be blamed."
You'd be surprised. Still, I nod. "I just hope the court will see it the same way."
She leans onto her elbow. "What exactly happened?"
"Well, I'm fuzzy on the details, too, but I took a hostage, apparently," I say, "at knifepoint."
"I see," she says. "Attempted murder."
The words still sound wrong. I guess when I've committed murders with such thorough consideration the one I hastily threaten to do doesn't feel like it should count.
"I can see why you're so worried," she adds. I flinch until I remember she's a master at reading people. I should expect no less.
"I was told I could be locked up for up to ten years," I say. "So, yeah, I'm worried."
"At least you're in Hojo," she points out. "In Usonia, you could have been looking at life."
"Or the needle," I mutter. I'd be considerably more freaked out if that was a possibility.
I clear my throat. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something about that whole thing." I grab my palm. "I got a psych eval done by another psychiatrist, and that went without a hitch, but considering you met me while I was under possession, I feel like they'd ask you, too. If that's the case… what are you going to tell them?"
Dr Marsh lowers her cup, having just taken a sip. "I'm under no obligation to tell you, but I'll do you a favor," she says. "I'll tell them that you were on edge and that you seemed like you wanted to hide something. Mainly the fact that you have antisocial tendencies. But also the fact that you seemed to be hallucinating spiders."
Shit. Them finding out I have antisocial tendencies can't be good. Some small part of me considers killing her to keep her quiet, but it doesn't take a second before the rational part of my brain gives me all the reasons why that would be a bad idea.
"Why were you so insistent on keeping that secret?" she asks.
I look at my hands. "Didn't want to get locked up for being a hazard."
She huffs, amused. "I hope you know by now that that's not how it works."
"But I have a legitimate reason to wish you hadn't figured it out now, right? If the court knows I'm antisocial, they'll have a stronger reason to believe I committed that crime of my own volition."
"Maybe," she says, "but you were still possessed. They have to consider the fact that you may have been seeing things that gave you no choice."
"But I don't remember," I lie. "And even if I did, who's to say they'd believe me? I could just as well just be lying to cover my ass."
"That's exactly why possession cases are so tricky," she says. "And in this case, there's no ghost to measure your words against, either."
I sigh. "I guess there's no way to know how this'll go before it happens."
"Afraid so." She takes another sip. After a pause, she speaks again. "You're better off with a professional knowing you're antisocial, you know."
Doubtful. "Why is that?"
"More context to your mental health," she says. "It's easier to see why you would be depressed, for example, if you find yourself unable to connect with others."
I blink. "Do you think I'm depressed?"
She shrugs. "I don't know, are you?"
"I… don't know."
"If you don't know, it probably means you are."
Depressed. I mean, maybe? A little? I don't like my life. But…
"I get out of bed each morning," I tell her. "I work out and I shower. If I had school or a job, I'd go there without trouble. Shouldn't I have trouble with those things if I was depressed?"
"You can be functional and still be suffering on the inside," she says. "And, well, you strike me as someone with a lot going on beneath the surface."
I tap my finger on the table. "Depressed," I repeat. "Maybe. I don't have a lot to be happy about."
"You really should consider therapy," she hums. "You might find out things about yourself. Things that'll answer why you don't feel happier."
I frown. Of course I know why I'm not happy. I'm a predator in a world run by prey. It's what HE was supposed to fix.
But… there's a chance I'm not even going to get that now. If that's so, I have to work with what I have. Find a way to be content. I'll still die, and that's terrible, but… I should make the most of what life I do get.
Dr Marsh leans closer. "There is help for you," she says. "You just have to accept it."
I look into her eyes. Dark, like mine. But instead of good staring down evil, I just see another human.
Our faces stay expressionless. Frozen.
Until mine thaws.
“I think I’d like that help.”
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END