He stared at her, no response other than that. Inside his head he wondered if she would just turn the back on him and leave, due to his lack of words, or come even closer demanding for an explanation. In the end, both options frightened enough. And motionless, he remained.
Facing that expressionless aspect, she stood still. Perhaps an explanation was too much to ask for.
But then again, what was there to explain?
To him, those words did not lie. They might not have brought it all to surface, as she was some sort of spirit after all. And pretty much some sort of undead too. "Smiley" was the word in the sentence that made his innards crawl. It almost sounded as some sort of mockery to her pain. He wished he didn't care, but it felt pretty bad since he couldn't forget that she had endured being by side for many nights.
She wasn't real. As in "circle" real. But she was better than it. At least it was easier to relate than with Daven. And why the hell would it tell her about that? Revenge? Didn't look like the behavior he witnessed for a good part of his life. Still, it was acting a bit differently. More distant, more... aggressive? He didn't know if that was the word.
That wasn't important for now anyway, he had to say something to her. Anguish grew as he looked at her and no words seemed to be useful.
He could say "sorry", but he always believed that was something stupid to say. Saying you're sorry does not fix things. You need something more, something that really proves you would do differently, or do anything to make that go away if you had the chance. But there was a chance that was too much of an utopical behavior. And resources were too scarce for making it happen.
He could say he didn't mean it, but that would also be a lie. Even if it was in a situation he meant it, that didn't mean he thought it everytime. But that was also too shallow.
"To be honest, to be really, really honest?"
–Thank you for the company...
Her eyes opened wider, as if she couldn't believe that was the reaction to that moment.
–I really have gotten nothing that feels worthy of saying so... If you've got to leave I can only understand, but it is better to show some gratitude before...
It felt like giving up, it felt stupid. But he couldn't counter his thoughts. Once again, he had to take a stand for himself and all that came out were ideas of not being able to withstand the task.
–That's all...?
–Pretty much...
–No apologies?
–I didn't think of a way that felt like really fixing it.
–Sometimes there is no way of fixing what was done.
–But there has to always be a way to make those you wronged feel better.
–That may not fix it, though.
–I don't know, I just... Couldn't find the right words. But I didn't want to stay silent all the way.
–That would have been even more foolish of you.
He lowered his head, acknowledging.
At least he said something. Most of the time when these conflicts came by, he'd just listen. While listening can be thought of as a virtue, words have got to be spoken.
–So, take care.
–Take care?
–Well, yes. I'm not sure what harms are there in this world for... you.
She frowned. The scar dwindled, forming a small drop of blood near the lower lip.
–For things like me? There aren't many but, I appreciate your concern.
–I didn't mean to say anything like that now, I know that what was said can't be taken away.
–You still have so much to learn...
–What...?
–I wonder if you are this naive, because of your own essence, or because it made you grow this way in order to have control over your energy.
–So, it is not here now. Why don't YOU teach me anything, if I'm so lost down here?
Deep down he felt angry. It was hard to actually argument and to justify but, most of the times he never cared. Anger felt good. And even though he had made a mistake before, that did not justify her acting like that. It didn't, right?
–That would be a worthless effort. You are still too used to relying on its protection. No matter how bad things get, you don't actually get to act much, do you? You just do something small, and thing of it as a grand, heroic effort. As that meant you are now another person, and things will change. But nothing changes.
–Wh...?
She walked closer. Slowly, always facing him.
–He managed to control you after all. Must have been real easy.
–Just what is wrong with you?!
–I will talk to it as soon as possible. He will find you another companion, one that does not get bothered by being obliged to tag along someone so...
–So what?!
She lowered her body in order to talk closely to his ear. Her voice was now pure despise. Sitting on the bed, his head rushed between asking what was going on and a constantly increasing rage.
–So easy to fool. It gets clear that what she did was the only option. She can step on you and then ask for help whenever she needs, because that's what you're useful for.
Sometimes a split second is all it is needed for a spark to bring down an entire building.
He had been very good at holding it back, when people mistreated him. It wasn't always like that. He learned it within the years. But sometimes this past danced in the void.
A child barely taking another off the ground, by pulling her hair. The eyes getting reddish, breathing in gushes. She had tripped in the joystick wires, the Super Nintendo dashed forward while she fell. The game stopped. Nervous she apologized, but knew he'd get angry. Trying to control herself, she laughed. He blanked.
The next second he wasn't sitting in the floor anymore. It didn't last for long, but it lasted enough for the night to follow in silence. No one spoke a word until the morning came.
So many more...
A child falling off a tower of plastic chairs. One hitting an iron pilaster. Both losing deciduous teeth. A mechanical pencil cutting the skin of a boy who poked him even after telling to stop three times. All the punches, slaps, threats. It was all too fast.
It had stopped. He knew the consequences. Might have taken a dozen years, but it was done. Still, there was always that little voice somewhere asking for more. It felt so good.
He breathed heavily, interruptedly. His hand on her knife, her hand on his wrist. He grabbed it faster than he thought he could realize. His right cheek was wet. The eyes getting red, the right one wept. It wasn't right.
But it felt right.
Consciously he forced his arm in order to let go. She looked serious, that mocking tone had faded away.
Yet the voice in his head asked for her blood, she deserved it. It repeated that he was a loser and that everyone laughed at him. But it could be changed. All he had to do was follow that incredible feeling.
But it wouldn't be right to hurt her.
That thought shimmered in the storm. Hard to take notice.
He grinned, now thinking of all the things he had to fix in his life. It wasn't fair to blame her for that, but it couldn't be helped.
Her grip was still strong. Lowering the body once again to get closer, and knowing it would become each time harder to hold that hand begging for blood, she started to speak. The distance between the blade and the neck lessened.
–I know you are very angry now. And that was my goal.
Very close.
–You will have to believe me. It made me see the last night, I saw what you said, and the entire discussion. But I noticed something while seeing that through his eyes, it got weaker. When your anger goes out of control it can't see your thoughts, it is unable to drain you. I believe it show me that in order to create a conflict, even though it does not get to take much advantage of you when you are sad, it does not get at bay.
The blade now touched her neck. Just a little bit more until it could enter.
Just a little bit more, and she will pay.
–Now, I know those things may bring you down, but it was the only way...
A small drop of blood formed. Her voice got weak and unsteady.
–Listen to me...
He could hear, but it was hard to reason. Each time he realized that wasn't right, the voice came with a bigger flood of violent thoughts. He knew he might regret that, but it was just too hard to step back. He could never go back, he held too much to just let them go away. They all had to pay. They all would pay. Things weren't going well, but he would make it better. Alone, for alone he wouldn't have to worry about others. And he wouldn't have to relate to anyone, deal with the harsh parts of friendships. And if she was right, not even Daven would be a problem anymore. For it wouldn't be anymore. Nothing would be.
A gentle touch covered his cheek.
–Thank you for the company, too.
She didn't take any step back also.
The storm exploded. And in the aftermath, when senses came back, their foreheads touched each other, the knife was shaking alongside his hand. Her hand still covered his cheek. Blood flowed timidly.
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