Velli

Do you want to know the saddest part, Velli? She can’t even see me. All she sees is you floating away from her and to your own demise, and she doesn’t know why. Don’t be so quiet, Velli. You haven’t given up yet, have you? Be yourself. Look at Dream. Her hazel eyes are puffing up with tears or whatever, yeah, all that, Velli. All that. I told you we should have called it donezo with this whole life thing years ago. Your life can’t get better.

My free foot slams into the side of his thin-fleshed skull again and again and again. It’s like kicking wood, it’s so close to cracking. I know it, but it doesn’t break.

I’m going to die. My arms doggy paddle forward, and I still sink. How is he this heavy? What is he?

I am part of your brain’s limbic system. The part that gives you anxiety, and I’ve gone awry. I want us to die because I’m afraid because I know we’re not made for a good life or even a mediocre life. We’re made for enduring torture.

Everything burns. I’m cold, yet my insides burn and beg for oxygen.

Or I’m the prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain that can estimate our future. And it gets colder and darker than this if we live. It’s inky misery filled with fire ants, and I won’t be a part of it.

I want to breathe. I want to open my mouth and inhale. I find myself doing it, and it’s even worse—a new torture as I gasp for air and the air doesn’t come.

Or I’m your guardian angel whose role is to protect you. And I know our future, and the best thing for us is to die right here, right now. Because not everyone is meant to live a life worth living.

Visibly, I’m putting up a fight, but a small part of me wants to let the water take me down. He’s not budging. My lungs are on fire, and it’s so cold. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to be this cold. I stop doggy paddling. I shake my arms just to generate some heat, and it does nothing. My lungs roar, incapable of understanding that I can’t get out, either. My “guardian angel” recites a Bible verse in the baritone of an ancient preacher.

I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of the Lord’s wrath.

He has led me and made me walk

In darkness and not in light.

Surely He has turned His hand against me

Time and time again throughout the day.

Fate casts an illusion. The pool darkens into an empty void of nothingness, intensifying the already-present skin-scratching cold. And Fate no longer pulls me down, though I sink without pause. Fate rests at the bottom of the pool, which he turns into an old church filled with racked pews and black stained glass windows. Instead of gold robes, his are black, decorated with the whitish-yellow color of bones. He bellows his scripture with open arms.

He has aged my flesh and my skin,

And broken my bones.

He has besieged me

And surrounded me with bitterness and woe.

He has set me in dark places

Like the dead of long ago.

He has hedged me in so that I cannot get out;

He has made my chain heavy.

Even when I cry and shout,

He shuts out my prayer.

He has blocked my ways with hewn stone;

He has made my paths crooked.

He has been to me a bear lying in wait,

Like a lion in ambush.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He has turned aside my ways and torn me in pieces;

He has made me desolate.

I have become the ridicule of all my people—

Their taunting song all the day.

He has filled me with bitterness,

He has made me drink wormwood.

He has also broken my teeth with gravel,

And covered me with ashes.

That’s going to be us, Velli, and I don’t want to live like that.

I try to keep swimming. My movements are so slow, they feel futile. I guess that’s the point though. I’m destined to lose forever.

Hey, Velli.

What?

You’re lucky I’m not strong enough to keep this up… yet. Consider what I said. It gets worse from here.

He disappears, his weight lifting. I find my strength. I swim up to the ice again. Slamming my fist into the ice, I strike it again, and it cracks. It cracks! A couple more hits, and it gives way. Dream pulls me out. Everything hurts so much.

“Velli!” she says.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Still unable to get up.

Mogvaz is alive but can’t move. The kid’s still… Baby still… needs us. My muscles groan “no” as I push myself up. They win the argument, and I’m on the cold floor again. Dream’s mumbling something, looking at me, judging me. Th-Th-Th-thinks I’m weak. Gotta, gotta, gotta ground. Gotta get off the ground again. This time, I slide on the ice, my feet doing a horrible dance I can’t control. Slipping like a fool, I make my way to Mogvaz. Dream follows me.

“Velli, what happened? You were sinking for a minute. It wasn’t him, was it?” She points to her head to signify she’s talking about Fate.

I turn to acknowledge her and share my burden.

You’re going to tell the girl you want to be yours that your imaginary friend is getting worse? Jeez, talk about self-sabotage.

“Let’s find the baby,” I say to Dream and tilt my head toward Mogvaz. “Where is he?” I yell. Big, heavy droplets fall off my body with every step. The water weighs me down, liquid freezing into chains.

“G-G-G-G—” Mogvaz says between hard swallows, his mouth half open.

“Should we help him?” Dream asks, and I somehow find the energy to roll my eyes.

“No,” I spit, gasping for breath. “We’ll search for the kid without him.” I stumble away, doing that stupid dance on ice to fight for my balance.

Dream follows, grabbing me before I fall. I cock my elbow to resist her help. The ice cracks beneath me, and I cringe at the flashback of drowning. Snuggling into her, I lean on and practically hug Dream.

You should have just stayed under if you were going back to living like this.

I’m too tired to resist Fate.

We’re off the ice and onto solid concrete outside the frozen pool. Land has never felt so good. Dream squats and attempts to lower me to the ground.

“What are you doing?” I ask with big breaths, failing to sound stern. “We need to keep going.”

She eases me down, slow and gentle like I’m a pathetic flower. “Just sit one second.” She dashes to the door we entered from, staying away from the ice. Picking up our discarded bundles of clothes, she comes back. Thankfully, she doesn’t toy with my bag of money.

“No, Dream, we need to keep moving.”

“No, you need to sit.” Authority leaps from her lips, and a pointed, scolding finger follows, like a mom to a child, something she is not to me.

My knees wobble, and my feet fumble. I force myself up. The concrete floor isn’t as frozen as the pool, but it’s still wet and impossible for my bare feet to get leverage. I imagine I look like a foal making its first attempt to walk, knees and feet going in opposite directions. Stupid.

“Velli!”

My legs give out with her yell. I land on my butt.

“You don’t have to put everything on but at least the two jackets, please. You don’t want to catch hypothermia.” She places the jacket on me.

It’s warm inside, and my comfort increases the humiliation.

Naive, she smiles and reaches out to me. I grab her hand and rise. My feet slip from under me. There’s no dance this time but rather an ugly fall. Loud and painful. Ice cracks beneath me. I close my eyes, flinching. When I open them, I find Dream on the ground. It was too quick. I didn’t let her go. She’s rubbing her side and staring at me, eyes that say, “Why’d you hurt me?” I stutter an explanation or apology, my lips struggling to keep up with the apology in my heart.

“Ow, Velli.” She rubs her side again. “Velli—”

You should have just stayed under if you were going back to living like this.

“I know. I heard you the first time!” I yell at Fate, but he’s a voice in my head that no one can hear.

Dream stares at me midstruggle, mouth open.

“Velli?”

Dream’s question hurts because she’s not mad like she should be. By herself, she stands up then offers me a hand again with a smile. “It’s all right.” She points to her head. “He’s yelling at you, isn’t he? I’m sorry. Remember he’s a liar. He’s always a liar.”

I take her hand and try to stand once more. She makes it easier, and I hobble forward with her assistance.

This is why you’ll never be good enough for her, you know?

“You’re right,” I reply.

I lean on her as we walk to the kitchen in the back.

“Isaz came in,” Dream says, desperate for a subject change. “Did you see him? He did all this. Did you see him come in?”

You might want to lie to her, Velli.

I do the next best thing. I don’t address her question. “Door,” I manage to get out, my breathing close to normal. “Let’s follow the smell of food, Dream, through the side door.”

Dream says nothing. I hope she can’t connect the dots concerning Isaz. She can. She glares daggers at me.

“You’re not surprised to see Isaz?” she asks again, each word slow, powerful, and accusatory.

In silence, I wobble forward with her assistance. It’s too cold, and I can’t think. No matter how much I beg my mind to make an excuse, it doesn’t come.

“Velli?” There’s that tone again. “I’m talking to you.”

“No, not surprising everyone’s here.” I produce the best lie I can in my condition because I have to. I have choices to make that Dream will never understand.

“And his saving us was random? And you’re not curious about it? You’re just accepting that?”

“Yeah.”

Our drenched steps batter the floor and do all the speaking for us. She knows I lied to set up Mogvaz.