《Where the Sky Ends》


 Resonance

    In front of me, a world of white smears across a breathtaking blue canvas. I feel weightless atop a sea of air and misguided choices. The rush of wind burns my ears and blurs all noise into one droning rumble. The breeze catches each memory that I''ve tried so desperately to drown and carry it away into the endless skies. The memories that stay the longest are the ones of my wife, Leila.


    I watch as she picks up our daughter. In her arms, our child looks so small. How do you protect something so delicate? Leila snuggles her against her chest and with a voice that could calm a storm whispers to our little girl; you are loved. She tells her, mommy and daddy will always shield her with our strong arms. Then my wife glances at me and smiles. It told me she believed what she said, and she was counting on me to support her.


    The scene fades and I¡¯m standing back in the place I first met Leila. We were walking through a forest together, soldiers in a defense force sworn to protect a precious caravan. No one knew what was in it, honestly, it didn¡¯t really matter. To us, the job was about the money. There was no reason for us to become friends or to know our contractor. This was something I did regularly back in those days.


    I grew up in a large city. Most of the people there were too busy to give concern to a starving family that lived behind a carpenter¡¯s shop. My father never worked a day in his life. I never understood why my mother had children with him. I guess that¡¯s why she left a few weeks after my youngest brother and sister were born. She never talked to me, at least not that I can remember. We were reminders of her mistakes. My first memories were from when I was about seven years old.


    My father was dragging my sister out of the house. She wasn¡¯t crying or screaming but my brother and I knew something wasn¡¯t right. I remember the way she looked at me as she rounded the doorway to the outside. Thinking back on it now, I didn¡¯t know she was asking for help. That was the last time I saw my little sister. A few weeks later, after coming home from scavenging some food, my brother was gone too. I assumed he must have gone where my father took our sister. I waited for my turn.


    It was the next day when my father grabbed my hand and walked me out of the house. I was excited because I missed my siblings. We went down the road not far from our home. My father stopped me outside a building and went in. I couldn¡¯t read the sign on the outside but the people walking past kept giving me worried looks. For the first time in my life, I felt uncomfortable.


    My father came back out and grabbed my arm too hard, it hurt. He pulled me into the building and handed me over to a man I did not recognize. They spoke to each other briefly. Then my father left with a small brown sack. A few moments passed and I asked the man, ¡°where is my brother? Where is my sister?¡± He only laughed.


    Later on, that night, the man came to get me from the dirty mat I was allowed to sleep on. We went into the alley and there was another man, again someone I did not recognize. He handed me over to him and then the man my father left me with walked into his little shop with a small brown sack. The man I was left with told me to get into the back of his wagon with another boy. He was holding a sword. I did so as I was told hoping maybe this is where my brother and sister had gone.


    The next thing I knew it was morning, and I was lying on the ground. This was new to me, the sand, the dry air. In the city, it was damp and cold. I looked around for my siblings but did not see them, instead, I saw a dozen other young boys standing in a row beside me. I stood too. I didn¡¯t know what I was supposed to do. Then the man with the wagon came out and said, ¡°all of you are trash. None of you are deserving of life. Only one of you can come with me, the others will be left here buried deep down in this pit.¡± He motioned over to a shallow hole on his right. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to die in the sand, kill the boy standing next to you. Remember only one of you will come with me.¡±


    Upon hearing this the boy to my right sprinted away from the line. Then a swoosh sound passed my head. I looked over; an arrow was sticking out of his back. His body slowly fell to the ground. The rest of the children started fighting each other. I jumped into the fray. I wanted to see my brother and sister; did they have to do this too? Did they win? Were they in the pit? I pushed the thoughts out of my head and swung my fists.


    After a few hours, I was the last one standing. Another boy was still alive but was without a leg and could not fight. The others were all unmoving. I stood above him, panting. The boy¡¯s eyes were looking into mine as if I betrayed him. I didn¡¯t know whether or not to feel bad, so I decided to not feel anything at all. I guess maybe, that was the point.


    The man wanted me to end his suffering. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could do it. The boy couldn¡¯t even fight back. ¡°Finish what you¡¯ve started,¡± the man commanded and as he said this, he threw a sword onto the ground in front of me. I grabbed it. Was I capable of this? I looked over at the alternative; the pit. Trying not to think I took the blade and plunged it into the boy¡¯s heart, or so I thought.


    I helped gather all the bodies and dump them into the pit, including the one I stabbed. The man told me to grab the oil and dump it in as well. I did what I was told. I needed to know if my brother and sister had gotten this far.


    The boy without a leg screamed when the man tossed in a torch. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get that scream out of my head. I got into the back of the man¡¯s wagon with the sword in hand and we started to travel. We did this ritual in every city we passed. Nearly a dozen young lives were taken at each stop. I never questioned the man, but as time went on, I forgot why I was with him. I started to anticipate the next fight. This went on until I was about eighteen.


    It was around this age when the man started to show his age. I did the only thing he had ever taught me, rid the world of the weak. I didn¡¯t consider the consequences. He was always the one that supplied food, water, and shelter. I took his wagon and went to the next city. I didn¡¯t know whether or not to continue the tradition. I waited until the night and watched the city. A contractor came announcing he needed men to guard his caravan. Apparently, his old guards were all killed in a recent attempt at his caravan. I went over and accepted his offer. I needed the money. There were a few others there, but I hadn¡¯t decided whether or not I was going to kill them all and take the goods, so I kept my distance.


    It was dark the night we set out. I had on me only a sword and my ragged clothes. I couldn¡¯t afford anything better. At that point, I''d never needed money. The others in the party were wearing suits of armor including helms and the like. I didn¡¯t care for that kind of stuff. Those things would only slow me down. It was only a few hours into the journey when we were attacked.


    It happened so quickly, none of us had much time to react. They honestly had no chance. We struck them down without taking a breath. The fight was over so soon that another soldier and I didn¡¯t even notice. My sword went straight for the soldier¡¯s head, to my surprise they were able to block it, but I still managed to knock their helmet off. A stream of golden rays of sunlight poured from the helmet.


    The look in her amber eyes was that of a killer. Blood dripped down from her head and spread across her face. She was holding my sword up with her own. Her beauty distracted me. She swept my legs out from under me and drove her sword right for my neck. If it had not been for my own sword¡¯s hilt resting on my neck, she would have killed me. The tip of the blade slipped past the handle and drove right into the ground. Through her hair, the moon radiated around her. It made the blood dripping from her face seem like shooting stars aimed directly at me.


    That¡¯s when she realized I was a member of the party guarding the caravan. She let go of her sword and backed away. The expression on her face was that of horror. She kept apologizing and I could tell she was sincere. She was so cute though I started laughing. After all, I¡¯d been through, I almost died to this girl. She was impressive for sure but nothing close to the raw power I possessed.


    When she realized I thought it was funny, she started to laugh too. The whole party laughed along. She put her hand out to me and I took it. Pulling me up was easy for her, I wasn¡¯t very big, to begin with. I never really got a chance to get fat. She said to me, ¡°You¡¯re lucky your sword saved your life!¡±


    I punched her in the shoulder and said, ¡°No, you¡¯re lucky you distracted me.¡± I quickly realized I admitted that she distracted me and tried to change the subject. ¡°You¡¯re pretty strong. Where did you learn to fight like that?¡±


    She leaned close to me and with a seductive voice she said, ¡°Did my blood-covered face distract you?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how to respond, but I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to take her right there. She was waiting for me to respond, fluttering her eyes at me. She smelled of sweat and blood and I loved it. A primal part of me was beginning to rise to my throat, but before I could act, the caravan contractor told us to get a move on. He was worried someone was going to attack us again.


    She winked at me. Blood fell down from her forehead and landed on her cheek. Taking a step past me she wiped her face of blood. Our shoulders hit, but I was stunned. I¡¯d never been with a woman. There was no part of me, before this moment, that had ever taken notice of them either. I never had the time or motivation to worry about all that. I turned my head to look at her. This just so happened to be the same time she was turning to look back at me. That¡¯s when I knew she wanted me to.


    We gathered all the gear from the thieves and split them amongst ourselves. They all talked like they were best friends and were excited to get back home to tell the tale. I trailed watching the darkness behind us, but in reality, I couldn¡¯t get her smile out of my head. I could hear her laughing just a few yards ahead of me. We seemed more like traveling minstrels than deadly soldiers. We¡¯d been traveling a half hour or so when we came to the end of the forest.


    What lay before us, was a sea of flowing grass about waist high. It went on all the way to the horizon. The man who hired us said we should make camp a few yards or so away from the tree line. I stayed behind and began chopping some wood for a fire. This is what I was used to; the countryside, traveling with no clear direction, and most of all; survival. I gathered enough wood to last us through the night and dropped the wood near the caravan.


    One of the other soldiers grabbed the wood and dug out a small pit. In the dark, I could see the men standing around the fire pit waiting to get warm. It took the soldier a minute or two but eventually, he managed to get a spark. I decided to assemble a good bed. I took my sword and cut down a good bit of grass and piled it up into a small nest. I did this until I could step on the grass and not feel the cold ground beneath it. When I returned my attention to the fire my blood stopped pumping and the whole world seemed foggy.


    The sound of the wind burned my ears¡­


    Sitting beside the fire was the woman I¡¯d accidentally fought earlier. She removed all of her armor and chain mail. I could see the outline of her body, the shape of her legs, long and strong. Her blonde hair danced between the flickers of the flame. There was dried blood still in her hair and on her face. I noticed I wasn¡¯t breathing, but I couldn¡¯t help it. She was nothing like I¡¯d ever seen. She wasn¡¯t even moving but the shape of her body and the way the light was being cast onto her made it seem like she was a raging sun.


    Standing next to the caravan I noticed there were canteens of water. I grabbed one and walked over to the woman. ¡°What is your name?¡± I asked. I gestured the container to her. ¡°For your face and hair.¡± I wanted to take care of her, something in me needed to. It was like a dream of a promise, I couldn¡¯t remember.


    ¡°Leila,¡± she said to me. ¡°And about earlier, I really am sorry. But the way you fought those guys off. It seemed like a beast toying with insects. It was impressive, and I was just into it, especially because you hit me first!¡± She laughed after she finished talking. I could see her smile again, and in the light of the campfire, this was one image I would never forget.  One memory I refuse to let the wind take from me¡­


    ¡°Leila,¡± I said softly. ¡°I like that. And yeah, I¡¯m sorry about that. I wasn¡¯t expecting the fight to end so quickly. I was just moving from target to target. Most people aren¡¯t even able to block my attacks. They usually buckle from the pressure and my sword just continues right through them. Where did you learn to fight?¡± Upon hearing me say this, she smiled. I could tell she was proud of herself.


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    ¡°My dad taught me how to fight!¡± she said excitedly. ¡°He was a general during some old war¡­ but he¡¯s gone now. I have his sword and his skills, but not his sense of duty to the country. He died a year ago, but enough of that. Where did you learn to fight? You have a lot of raw power but that¡¯s about all. You could use some work in your form. Have you ever used a sword before?¡±


    ¡°My father taught me how to fight as well. What do you mean I could use some work?¡± I almost said that the only reason I got overtaken was that she caught me off guard. ¡°Let¡¯s spar right now with sticks.¡± I walked over to the tree line and found two that seemed about the right length and weight. When I was walking back, I could see her standing near my makeshift bed.


    I threw her a stick and waited for her to attack. She took a stance and approached me slowly. Without her armor, I could see the shape of her whole body. It was perfect, and the fire behind her cast a shadow onto my own. This was going to be a distracting fight.


    I swung first at her side. She blocked it and deflected my sword. It left me open on my left. I side-stepped to the right. Her swing missed. She was open on her left now. I went in with my left hand for a punch. I tagged her in the stomach, soft, but hard enough that she definitely knew it was me.


    ¡°Oh, so you like to fight like that, huh?¡± she said to me. ¡°I should have known from what I saw earlier.¡± While talking she took a few steps away from me. All I wanted to do was touch her again. I switched the stick to my left hand and stepped closer to her. At the same time, she was stepping to me. She had her stick extended for a plunging attack. I deflected it. She wasn¡¯t expecting me to switch hands. I went again for a punch to her stomach. She was more prepared this time but I still hit her in the leg, a little harder than I meant to, but by the look on her face, you could tell she was enjoying this.


    She had the biggest smile, and her eyes were staring directly into mine. We went on and on like this for a few more minutes. The whole time I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off of her. Between admiring her body and being impressed by her ability to keep up with me, she grabbed the stick I was holding and pulled herself right into my chest. Her stick was pressed directly against my throat. If this had been a real fight, I would have lost. I¡¯d be dead.


    ¡°I got ya!¡± she said, out of breath. ¡°I told you I was better!¡± I dropped my stick and laughed.


    ¡°Yeah, you won Leila!¡± I don¡¯t know if it was the fire or something inside of her, but when I said her name her eyes lit up. ¡°You are so beautiful¡­¡± the words just slipped out of my mouth. I can remember thinking at that moment that, this woman maybe was just looking for friendly interaction, and I ruined it. My stomach felt like a shallow pit in the sand. I stared into her eyes waiting for her to react. We were still standing right next to each other. Our chests were basically pressed up against each other and my arm was still around her. I could easily just put my hand around her waist.


    She closed her eyes and backed away from me. I could feel my heart begin to shatter. I ruined it. I would have rather been a companion to this woman than to be some lustful stranger that she traveled once with on a job. She threw her stick off into the distance. In the cold of the night, I could see her breath. She began walking back over to the fire.


    ¡°Hey look, Leila¡ª¡± I began but she interrupted me.


    ¡°Did you make this bed yourself?¡± she asked. Confused, I responded.


    ¡°Yeah, why?¡± She kicked a little bit off the side. Then knelt down and pressed her hand against it.


    ¡°You made it kind of small, didn¡¯t you? How are we both supposed to fit on this thing?¡± When she said this, I lost all control. I ran over to her and wrapped my hands around her face. I pulled her lips to mine and we kissed. This was my first kiss, and it was perfect. I don¡¯t know how she felt about it. She never really told me. All I know is when we pulled our heads away from each other she wore a face that I couldn¡¯t resist. Her strong burning eyes were now soft and submissive. I could smell her sweat and her blood. She was perfect.


    That night we conceived our first and only child. We didn¡¯t know it at the time. After a few days of traveling, we finished delivering the caravan. I didn¡¯t want to leave her side and she seemed to feel the same, so we decided to stick together. She reasoned that alone we could be overpowered, but together we were unstoppable.


    We went on a number of other runs together. Most nights ended up playing out similar to the one I could remember the most. The first one. A few months passed by and Leila told me she knew she was pregnant. We were both happy because you see she always wanted to be a mother. And I, well, I felt like I had finally found a reason to be happy. I finally found a reason to live. A reason to forget. Forget what? Something in the wind.


    The day our daughter was born a storm covered the sky. I remember I was nervous. We had been traveling for such a long time and only in the past month had we settled down. It was getting hard for Leila to keep walking. I feared all the traveling was going to be bad for the baby. I remember hearing her scream while giving birth. It reminded me of a dream I once had¡­ Well, besides that all of my worries disappeared the moment we heard our girl start crying. Leila wanted to name her Audra after her mother. I was fine with it, for some reason I couldn¡¯t seem to remember my own mother¡¯s name.


    Leila kept saying, ¡°let me hold Audra.¡± I told her softly since she was crying everything was going to be okay. And it was. We were in a small hut on the outskirts of a city. It was just a single nurse helping Leila during the delivery. The nurse handed the baby over to me, and I saw her face for the first time. It changed something in my soul. I felt the gears shift. I knew that above all else, I needed to protect this small person, my daughter, my flesh, and my blood. She was perfect.


    I moved over to Leila and handed her our daughter. I knew this was all she ever wanted and luckily, we loved each other so much. Nothing would be able to ruin this. I watched as she caressed her face. She kept repeating over and over, ¡°Audra, it¡¯s me, mommy.¡± I loved the sound of it. This was another perfect moment in my life. We had saved enough money in the previous months that we could afford a small cabin near the cliff-side of a city.


    Leila was concerned about the cliff edge and asked me to put up a small fence through all of our property. I told her of course and began work on that. I could only work on it though during my free time. To support the family, I decided to start a farm on all the good soil I could find. We were fortunate because we managed to produce enough potatoes for us to eat and for me to sell in the local market. All day I worked in the fields, and for a few hours at night, I would work on the fence. This routine went on for years.


    When Audra turned five, we owned a couple of acres and were able to employ a few people from the city to help. It was a good system, I paid them in potatoes and onions and enough money to get them by and they worked the fields. This gave me more time to spend with my family. Audra was learning how to fight from her mother. I would sit and watch them for hours. This was about the time I began to notice Leila becoming restless.


    The nights were filled with shouts from both of us. Leila wanted something out of life, something I wasn''t giving her. We were safe, we were fed, and we were together. To me, there was nothing that mattered more. My daughter was with me. One night out of a moment of anger my fist found its way to the side of your stomach. Leila didn''t dodge it. She didn''t even see it coming. The wind was knocked out of her. We both knew the truth.


    The world only cares for the strong. We''d seen it happen again and again. My father spent a lot of time telling me this, the last one standing is the only one deserving of life. It was simple. Why then? Why did she look at me with eyes of regret and understanding? We never spoke of that night.


    In the following days, she would come to me asking if there was any work to be done in the fields that she could do. I knew she just wanted to get her hands dirty, maybe get some dirt in her hair. I felt like I could remember seeing her with dirt in her hair, or was it something else?


    Every time I told her she needn¡¯t worry about the fields, I could manage them, especially since we had hired help. I thought at first that this answer would make her happy, knowing that I could take care of her, but it only frustrated her. I didn¡¯t know what I was doing wrong. Her once brilliant amber eyes were glazed and dull. She had only aged a few years and still had plenty of life left in front of her.


    Some nights I would catch her wearing her old armor and sparring against a tree in the backyard. It sometimes also kept Audra awake at night. I would lay with her and tell her mommy was just practicing in case someone ever tried to hurt our little girl. I know Audra liked hearing the comfort. In those moments I can remember being jealous because there was no one comforting me.


    Then there was the morning when everything broke.


    There was the morning when the sky was covered in white and gry clouds. It was beautiful. I awoke that morning to find Leila and Audra, not in the house. They were standing out in the fields talking about something. I only knew this because I could hear their muffled voices through the walls. I went outside and asked what they were doing because I knew the help was going to be showing up soon and I didn¡¯t want them getting in the way. Leila knew this and she gave me a stern look. This look was one I could remember, but I think it was at night when I saw it or was it in the desert? I couldn¡¯t remember. With this look in her eyes, she said to me, ¡°We¡¯re leaving, and you¡¯re welcome to come with us.¡±


    ¡°Why would we leave?¡± I asked, confused. Wasn¡¯t everything I built here worth it? Or was it all for nothing? I didn¡¯t believe her at first. I thought maybe she just wanted to see if I cared. ¡°Leila, look. Look around. I¡¯ve built all this for you. We are living better than I could have ever dreamed. And I¡¯m so lucky because I get to spend it with you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?¡± she yelled at me. I felt my heart break a little. She¡¯d never been angry at me before, not like this. ¡°If I wanted to live a life stuck in one place I would have stayed back home. My father, when he died, left me so much. But I didn¡¯t want any of it. I wanted to explore the world. I wanted to have a family and go on adventures. And I thought you wanted to as well. That¡¯s why I loved you. I thought all of this was temporary. I thought we were just settling for a few years until Audra could walk and travel with us. This is not what I wanted, and I know deep down, this is not what you wanted either. So please, come with us. It can be how it used to be, but now we can share those experiences with our daughter. We can teach her how to be strong like us. We can show her that the world is here for her to pillage and explore. Living as a farmer¡¯s wife is not my dream. Being a farmer was never anything you mentioned to me. So, please, come with us. We can be happy again.¡±


    All of her words confused me. This whole time I thought she was happy and I knew I was happy. So, where was this all coming from? Maybe if she had told me she felt this way and wanted these things then I wouldn¡¯t have wasted so much time and energy on building this world for her. It made me angry because it was like she didn¡¯t appreciate me or any of the hard work I¡¯d done in the last few years. I was about to respond but one of the workers approached me. They said there was something I should see on the edge of the east field. I told them I¡¯d look at it in a second. This made Leila angry.


    ¡°So, what? That¡¯s it then Leila? After all, I did, I still couldn¡¯t find them? Why did I even fight? Why did I kill?¡± On her face was a confused look. It made me angry. I walked into the house, breaking the door down in the process. I went into the bedroom and grabbed my old sword. I didn¡¯t see her gear where she usually left it so I walked back outside. I walked up to her and grabbed her by the collar. I stabbed my sword into the ground and grabbed her sword from her waist. I pulled it out and threw it down at her feet. I grabbed my own sword back from the earth and took a few steps away from her.


    ¡°I bet I can beat you now.¡±


    She hesitantly reached down and grabbed her sword. She took her bag from her back and pushed Audra to the side. She was scared. This was nothing like that dream I once had. Her eyes told me not to do this but I was angry and a feeling I hadn¡¯t felt in a long time was coming back to me. I needed to win, I needed to know they were still out there, alive and happy. Who was I thinking of? I couldn¡¯t remember.


    I stepped toward her and swung my sword to the right. In my anger, I accidentally swung too wide and struck my daughter in the shoulder. I heard and felt it through the sword but something inside me wouldn¡¯t stop. Leila blocked the attack but I felt that her once powerful stance had weakened with age. I punched her in the side. She stumbled back and coughed blood. I pulled my sword back and felt the blade clip something on the way up. I watched as Leila placed the palm of her hand against the flat side of the blade and raised her arms to guard herself. Somehow, she had gotten slow. I was easily able to stop mid-swing and kick her in the chest. She was wide open.


    I watched as her body fell back onto the ground. Her breathing was heavy. I went and grabbed her sword from the ground. I raised it and plunged it down into her body, the way a phantom had once done in a foggy memory in the back of my mind. It stabbed through her shoulder. I put my whole body¡¯s weight against the hilt and plunged it deeper into the earth.


    Kneeling down and looking at her face I said, ¡°No one is ever going to leave me again.¡± I turned to grab my daughter but she was no longer standing where I expected her to be. I listened for a second and heard her scream on the east side of the fields. I ran through until I emerged on the other side. I felt the world fall out from beneath me and I fell down an incline. I hadn¡¯t ordered them to dig any ditch so I was confused. But I could smell blood. I looked around and saw my daughter. She had a cut on her shoulder and a cut on her forehead. Blood was running down her face. Was that from me?


    I reached for her but she scrambled away. My hand hit the ground and I felt something hard. I grabbed it out of anger and was going to throw it but then I noticed what it was. It was the jawbone of a small child. I looked around, why did this seem familiar?


    I was standing in a pit full of bones of small children. Was this a dream? I couldn¡¯t remember. Why was this so familiar? A migraine crept through the back of my head and into my eyes. I couldn¡¯t think. The inclines around me were scorched. I couldn¡¯t walk straight but somehow, I managed to pull myself out of the hole. The sky looked so beautiful. I wanted to go back into the house. I wanted to see Leila again, I knew she would be able to help me. I tried walking back. I hit the fence. I lost my balance.

 Guardian

    ¡°I can remember when the world began,¡± I said to her. ¡°It was brilliant. Watching the stars and celestial bodies form in front of me. It was so quiet. I feel like most people would assume it would be loud or cluttered but the truth is; it was liberating in the most deafening way.¡±


    The floor of the basement felt good on my back. I could smell something cooking, in a room not too far from this one. I wasn¡¯t sure where I was, or who this girl was but, she looked like she needed my help.


    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± I asked her, even though she couldn¡¯t respond. ¡°Do you think that God is real? I ask because I¡¯ve asked myself this question so many times. The people I¡¯ve met in my journey always ask any god for help.


    Honestly, I¡¯ve never seen one. I¡¯ve never seen any evidence for one. But, the people who believe he¡¯s real, well, they always seem to be the ones I help the most. The world never really prepares you for being tied up in a smelly basement.¡± The floor around my right side became warm. I forgot I was bleeding. I couldn¡¯t really move, it hurt too much.


    ¡°I once met a man on a small fishing boat. He taught me all about how to fish. That was of course after I saved him from drowning. His boat capsized during the worst storm he¡¯d ever seen. The rest of his crew were lost to sea but he stayed with the boat. Do you think captains do that because they fear letting the boat go means giving up on trying to live? I asked him that question. He told me, he didn¡¯t let go because it was just what he was supposed to do. That, the world put him in that situation for that very purpose.


    I guess I believed him. I mean, at least that¡¯s his truth. But, I still feel like it¡¯s the reason I asked. Anyways, I found him there holding onto one of the few ropes that were still attached to the mast of the ship. He was a few yards away from the ship, unconscious, lying face down in the water. I thought for sure he was dead because how else would his grip remain, right? Well, turns out he had this condition where his throat had a sort of pocket that led straight to his stomach. So, whenever he breathed in the water went into his stomach rather than his lungs. And now you¡¯re wondering or thinking, but he still wasn¡¯t getting oxygen so he should have died, and I agree. But, I apparently got there at just the right moment.¡±


    The warmth was traveling up towards my neck. I put my hand around my chest. All I felt was a ripped shirt and blood. ¡°Anyways,¡± I continued through the struggle of breathing. ¡°After I put him onto the top of the boat and performed some compressions to his chest he coughed up most of the water and began to breathe. I wasn¡¯t sure what to do after I did that because usually, well, I¡¯m done. But, for some reason I stayed, so I decided to try to push the boat from one of the sides and get him to land.


    I spent two full days behind the capsized boat kicked through the water and pushing. I didn¡¯t know where we were going, but I just knew if we went in one direction we¡¯d have to find something, right? Well, there we were in the middle of the ocean when suddenly a helicopter came from the sky and started scooping us up.¡±


    I looked over at the girl. Her makeup was smudged all over her face and her clothes were nearly ripped to shreds. She must have been here awhile. This was a first, for sure. I turned my head back to the ceiling. ¡°It turns out that his friends were found by a cruise ship and they radioed for someone to come find their captain. To me, that meant if he¡¯d just let go of the ship he would have been fine. And, yes, I told him this, but he asked, we were still saved, weren¡¯t we? And, I guess, he was right, but I still felt like I was right, but I didn¡¯t tell him that.¡±


    ¡°We went back to the shore and I was still there, so I was confused right, but I was like alright whatever I¡¯ll just stay with this guy until something happens. So, I stayed with him in the hospital and watched him recover. It didn¡¯t take long. He was a strong old man. I went with him to his home. He didn¡¯t have any family or anyone worrying about him. That was new to me, usually everyone has someone waiting for them. But, this old man didn¡¯t and he was okay with that. To my surprise he was excited to get back out on the ocean. I tried talking him out of it, but he was convinced; he only lived because he wasn¡¯t done exploring and braving the great vast nothingness of the ocean.¡±


    We both heard a door to the basement open. I looked back over to the girl. In her eyes I could see what I always see; a cry for help. I didn¡¯t know what to do, I couldn¡¯t move. We listened as another person walked down the stairs. I wondered who this person was, but I doubted I¡¯d ever get a chance to find out. The warmth was now underneath my head and spilling into my left side now.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got food for you,¡± the new person said. ¡°It¡¯s onion soup and toast.¡± The person walked right past me without taking any notice. It was dark so I didn¡¯t blame them, but still, wouldn¡¯t you be able to smell the blood? The girl and I were locking eyes at this point. I knew she was wondering if this person could also see me. There was no reason they couldn¡¯t.


    I watched the person walk up to the girl while averting their eyes. They set a tray down on the ground next to them. The soup smelled good. Then just as quickly as they entered the basement they retreated back up the stairs.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name,¡± I asked the girl. ¡°And how do they expect you to eat that?¡± Her arms were tied and her mouth was covered with a belt tied around some fabric. ¡°Well, back to the captain. He got a new boat, a smaller boat, meant for small incursions. I remember he told me that he didn¡¯t want a crew anymore, because he felt that he almost killed men that he considered his family. I felt like I understood that, and I told him I did, but I knew that the storm capsizing their boat wasn¡¯t his fault. If I had tried to convince him that he would have said something about it, he¡¯s the one who put the boat in the storm¡¯s path. As ridiculously as that sounds, in a way he was right, so I decided to just agree with him.


    Only a week after his incident he was back out on the ocean and I was with him. He had reservations about this because he didn¡¯t want to be the cause for me to be hurt, but I reassured him that I would be fine. So there we were in the middle of the pacific, again, but this time he was teaching me how to fish. Every day seemed like a new adventure on this tiny boat. Honestly, it would have been hilarious to see me, a scrawny little white kid, and this old muscular man wrangling nets together. He loved every day of it, he was the happiest man I have ever met. Meeting happy people is a rarity for me.


    That lasted about a year, or two. But then one morning I woke up to go put the sail up the mast and I found him in the bridge holding the steering wheel. He was looking out over the ocean. The look on his face was content. I asked him what he was thinking about, and he told me, he knew if he died, he¡¯d die happy. That was the last I ever saw of the captain.¡±


    I turned my head back over to the girl. My vision was beginning to blur but it looked like she was trying to pour the soup through her nose. Was she trying to drown herself or was she that desperate to get something into her stomach that she risked drowning? It was unclear. The world around me started to slowly wobble, like how it does when you sleep on the ocean.


    ¡°There was a girl I met once, she wasn¡¯t anything like you,¡± I said, turning my attention back to the darkness of the ceiling. ¡°She wasn¡¯t strong like you. She never knew what it meant to be hurt, to be wronged. And that wasn¡¯t her fault, she was young. Nearly five, if I remember correctly. She was lost in the woods when I found her.¡±


    ¡°The funny thing is I felt like I could hear her mom yelling her name in the distance when I first got there. I wondered why this little girl was hiding underneath a tree in the middle of the forest, so I asked her. She told me it was because mommy scared her. I asked her why, and she told me, because mommy can get so angry sometimes and mommy hurts her. I didn¡¯t know what to say to her. I just knelt beside her and put my hand on her head. She was cold. I remember that.


    I also remember staying the night there with her in the woods. I collected some wood and tried to make a fire, but I didn¡¯t have a lighter or matches so I really couldn¡¯t. But, she¡¯s the reason I don¡¯t have my jacket anymore. I placed it around her body and sat beside her all night. She fell asleep with her head resting against my shoulder. I didn¡¯t know what I was supposed to do here. Usually the answers are very clear to me, you know? Like I usually can tell what is right and wrong pretty well, I mean I¡¯ve got the experience, but this one was a real pickle.¡±


    The girl on the other side of the room was quivering in a corner. I couldn''t really tell what she was doing but I could guess. I just kept talking. Even when the smell of urine began to mix with the smell of my blood. And even though I could hear her sobbing.


    ¡°The next day we could hear a mass of people searching through the forest trying to find her. At one point I almost just jumped out and said here we are, but the little girl still wasn¡¯t coming out of her little hiding spot. I asked her why, but she wouldn¡¯t tell me. I tried to tell her that these people were here to help. Then she said, she didn¡¯t want to see mommy. The poor soul asked me to go see if her mom was looking for them. When I tried to ask her why, again, she wouldn¡¯t tell me. That was okay though, little kids are stronger than most people give them credit.


    I told her I was going to go check if her mom was with the search party. I walked a few hundred yards until I was out of the forest. There was a tent and a lot of people huddled around it. I went up to the first police officer I could find and asked where the mom was because I had a question. That¡¯s when he told me she was in prison. I was confused, and I asked what happened.


    I feel like I got lucky with this one, because it all sort of solved itself. The mom ended up calling the police to order an amber alert, but as it turns out, this little girl was already on the list. The mom had apparently kidnapped her just a few months ago. This little girl was taken from her home nearly a hundred miles away and brought to this little rundown trailer park. This lady that was calling herself the mom, had the audacity to beat this little girl until she started calling her mommy. She was feeding her all sorts of unforgivable things trying to break this innocent soul.


    Luckily, the kidnapper confessed to all of this after the discovery of the previously existing amber alert. She was crazy, maybe I could have helped her too. I don¡¯t know but I was so excited because the officer told me her real mom was only a few miles out of town. Without really thinking I excitedly told the officer that the little girl was just a few hundred yards in the opposite direction they were looking.¡±


    The sun was setting outside the room and the only stream of light had moved from the opposite side of the room to right in between the two of us. I looked back over at the girl. She was resting her head against the wall with her eyes closed. Was she enjoying my stories? Did they give her hope?


    ¡°Are you sleeping?¡± I asked her. She opened her eyes and looked into mine for the second time. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to do, usually it¡¯s obvious but I¡¯m hurt. I can¡¯t really do anything. Can you move to me?¡± She nodded her head. ¡°If you do, I think I might be able to undo the ropes around your wrists.¡± She got up from her spot in her corner. I could see her entire frame now.


    She looked like she couldn¡¯t be older than fifteen. It looked like she hadn¡¯t eaten in a week or so, this made me wonder how long she¡¯d been living down here, again. She had long brown hair. It was all matted and dirty. I could make out the bones on the girl. Her clothes were dirty and very loose on her, and her skin was darkened from being in the filthy basement.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    She struggled to make her way over to me. I could tell she was hesitant about me helping her, after all I was just some dude lying on the floor bleeding to death. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I think I can do it,¡± I reassured her. Her eyes told me this was her last chance. I knew this is what I had to do. ¡°Look, either I do this now or I die without being able to do anything. I don¡¯t know how much time I have left. I feel so cold.¡± I actually didn¡¯t mean to say that last part. She put her wrists into my left hand.


    I could barely use my fingers to grip the ropes. I began to fear that maybe I couldn¡¯t help her. I tried to lift my blood covered right hand to assist my other hand, but I barely moved the tips of my fingers. ¡°Well,¡± I said to her. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to help you.¡± It was hard for me to say, because it was the first time I ever had to. ¡°You know,¡± I laughed. ¡°I¡¯m usually a lot better at this.¡±


    Then she stood up again and moved closer to my head. She stood for a moment facing away from me and then knelt down. Her wrists went down and hit my teeth. I knew what she wanted me to do. I opened my mouth and gripped what fabric I could. She wriggled around until it began to loosen. We did this for what felt like an eternity. Eventually one of her hands slipped free and she jumped up.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t do more,¡± I said to her through deep breaths. ¡°I¡¯ve helped so many people¡­¡± My mind sort of trailed off thinking about all the people I¡¯ve met. Where did this all start? I watched as she ripped away the belt and fabric that was covering her mouth. Her chest expanded and she sighed the biggest sigh of relief I¡¯d ever seen. She dropped the belt and looked over to me. Then for the first time, she talked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are or where you¡¯ve come from but you don¡¯t deserve to die like this.¡± Her voice was soft and raspy, almost inaudible. Most importantly, it was kind and sincere. She knelt beside me and put a warm hand on my head. This was the first time anyone ever comforted me. ¡°I¡¯ll get out of here and go get help. I won¡¯t let you die. Not if everything you¡¯ve said is true. If there is a god, which I believe there is, he wouldn¡¯t do this to you.¡± She pressed her hand against my cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    For the first time I didn¡¯t know what to say. What could I say? I¡¯ve never had to say thank you before. I¡¯ve never been the one that needed help. I closed my eyes, holding back tears, and nodded. I heard her stand up and walk up the stairs trying to be quiet. I noticed I stopped bleeding, either I was out of blood, which was unlikely, or it was starting to dry, and maybe then there was hope for me. I didn¡¯t know if I believed in a god like this girl walking up the stairs, but I began to pray.


    I wanted her to be safe, and if that meant praying to the god she believed in then so be it. I begged that she was going to be able to make it out of the house without that person noticing. What would happen if she was caught? Would I then be discovered? What would the person keeping her here think then?


    The sound of the basement door opening seemed to explode into the room. I was unsure if that was because I was bleeding out or if it was really that loud. I tried to maneuver my head to see her. She wasn¡¯t moving so I assumed I exaggerated the noise in my head. Good. All I want in the world right now is to know she got out of this building and made it to safety. I closed my eyes again. I was starting to get tired.


    That¡¯s when I heard someone shout. My eyes sprung open and I tried to get up. Not a single muscle in my body moved. I listened as I heard the girl scream and furniture was moved. It was hard to tell what was happening. One voice was very angry and yelling, and the girl¡¯s voice was scared and harsh. A lot of stuff seemed to fall and crash to the floor. Then a loud banging began. It seemed to be happening against the floor. I wasn¡¯t sure what happened but suddenly the sound stopped. Then I heard the sound of a door open and close.


    After a few minutes I heard more movement come from the upstairs. I prayed again. Please, please let her be okay, at least alive. Maybe then I could potentially help her get away again. I hoped for it, but I knew there was nothing I could do. Someone was walking around upstairs moving stuff. The footsteps then traveled to the door to the basement. I tried to look again at the door to the basement but I couldn¡¯t. Someone walked down the stairs and stopped right at my feet.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± a strange voice asked. This was not the same voice as the girl.


    ¡°Did she get away?¡± I asked.


    ¡°She stabbed me in the shoulder a couple times and ran out the door. I wasn¡¯t able to stop her.¡± The voice was soft. Who was this person? ¡°I think she hit an artery. I don¡¯t feel good and the blood won¡¯t stop.¡±


    ¡°What did you hope to gain from all this?¡± I asked. The person walked over to me and sat down next to my head with their back against one of the basement walls.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question. I¡¯ll answer yours once you answer mine.¡± I thought for a minute. I get this question a lot, but it¡¯s usually from the people I meet that need my help. I wasn¡¯t sure if it even mattered at this point whether or not people knew who I really was. That was something I never told anyone before.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who I am. I¡¯ve never had a name. People usually just give me a name. Some people have called me Scott, some people have called me their angel. But to be honest, I¡¯m not either of those things. I¡¯m just like you, well I mean, when it comes to flesh and blood. And apparently I can die just like you.¡± I said with a something that resembled a laugh. ¡°So, yeah. I¡¯m actually surprised I¡¯m still here. I really thought I would go after she got out of the house. That¡¯s how it usually works anyways. On to the next person that needs my help. That¡¯s how it¡¯s always been anyways. I help someone in the way they need it the most and then poof off I go.¡± I had to take a deep breath. It was getting harder.


    ¡°So what, you''re a guardian angel or something?¡± the person asked.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°I feel like that¡¯s not right though. But yeah.¡± At this the person started laughing. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± they said through their fit. ¡°My guess is you actually just found this girl by looking through the window there and you hurt yourself after you broke the glass and crawled through.¡± I could see the window they were talking about. The window wasn¡¯t broken, but I decided not to say anything.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± It would be pointless to try to argue with them, especially as the world started going black. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question.¡± The person beside me shifted around a bit before getting comfortable again.


    ¡°What did I hope to gain from all of this?¡± they repeated. ¡°Well originally I just wanted someone to notice me I suppose. You wouldn¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to be like me. I can¡¯t usually talk to people like this. I usually end up messing up the conversation and people get uncomfortable around me. Or at least they used to, nowadays they just ignore me. They act like I don¡¯t even exist. I work in a cubicle making not nearly what I deserve and I don¡¯t have any friends. I¡¯m forty-seven as of a week and a half ago. My mother and father both live only a few miles from here, but I haven¡¯t heard from them in twenty years. Even they don¡¯t like me. It¡¯s not even for doing something horrible. I always did what they told me to. I went to the schools they wanted. I even got the job they wanted. Still they didn¡¯t want to speak to me.


    I feel sometimes the world would be better without me. Like who would notice I was gone. I don¡¯t even have a pet. My colleagues don¡¯t talk to me and my boss hasn¡¯t assigned me to any projects in years. I¡¯m basically getting paid just to be there, but no one even knows my name.


    On my birthday I was walking home from the bus stop and I crossed paths with this girl. She didn¡¯t know who I was or that no one liked me, but she, with the kindest face I¡¯ve ever seen, smiled at me. I realized soon after bringing her here that she was just being nice. But what was I supposed to do, let her go? She¡¯d tell the police. I guess it wouldn¡¯t have mattered anyways. I was planning to kill myself in front of her. I just¡­ I just wanted someone to notice me.¡±


    The world around my head was starting to spin. I felt like I wasn¡¯t going to be able to stay conscious for more than a few minutes. I could see the person sitting next to me holding their shoulder. They were crying. ¡°Do you want to know what happened just before I got here?¡±


    The person nodded beside me. ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°I found myself deep within a mineshaft. I didn¡¯t know what country I was in, I didn¡¯t even know how far down I was, all I knew was there were rocks and caverns everywhere. I¡¯d been in a similar situation before, but this was different. Before I was just helping this young man find his way out of one of the long indistinguishable tunnels that were littered under the mountains in Alaska.¡±


    I had to take a couple of breaths before I continued. ¡°This time though I found myself sitting next to this young lady who was trapped in this small cavern. The way that she had come from caved in. There were no other exits from this room. I realized this and started to wonder what I was supposed to do then. Was I supposed to try to dig a way out? Was I supposed to look around and magically find an exit? Or, and this was a new thought, was I just supposed to be here for her in her last moments? Like I said, I was sitting down next to her, but I don¡¯t think she noticed me. Then I touched her shoulder. The moment they realize I¡¯m there is usually one of the better ones. But she just looked over at me and started crying. I wasn¡¯t sure why, but I put my arm around her.¡±


    My lips were cold. I could feel them hitting each other with every word I said. I took another breath then continued. ¡°I asked her why she was crying. It was a dumb question, but it slipped. She turned to me and without saying a word showed me what was in her lap. It was a gun. I began to wonder what a cave explorer would be doing with a gun, but I guess, it was for protection. I took it from her. She told me she was just about to shoot herself. She told me she''d been there for two days. Her food and water were all gone, and she knew as each day passed the likelihood of being found was drastically depleting. I reassured her I was here to help, even though I felt like there was nothing I could do. At the time I thought maybe that¡¯s what I was there for, so she wouldn¡¯t kill herself and just die naturally. But that still felt wrong, so I started asking her questions.¡±


    I took another deep breath. ¡°I asked her who she was and if people were looking for her. Of course she said yes and told me her name. I told her that maybe then they were close to finding her. She wouldn¡¯t have it though. She started screaming that they would be looking in the wrong system and that this was her grave and just on and on about all that. I didn¡¯t know what to do. I tried to calm her down but she was unhinged. In my calmest voice I told her that I was there for a reason and I felt it was to make sure she didn¡¯t kill herself. I told her it must be that they are so close to finding her that within the next few hours she would be out of here and safe. She wasn¡¯t listening though. The next thing I knew she was yelling at me to shoot her so she wouldn¡¯t have to do it herself. I told her there was no way a single muscle in my body would allow me to do that. I kept trying to tell her that I knew I was right. We just needed to wait together, an hour, a few hours, maybe a day, but soon she would be found.¡±


    ¡°She just kept yelling at me. If I¡¯m being honest that was the most scared I¡¯d ever been in my whole life. When she realized I wouldn¡¯t do it, she started yelling at me to leave her alone. She wanted to be alone when she did it. Of course, I tried to explain that¡¯s not how it works. I couldn¡¯t just go away, I could only leave when, whatever brought me here, decided I was done helping. She screamed and screamed at this, she kept saying she didn¡¯t need help from someone who couldn¡¯t pull the trigger. She started pushing me. I got up from where I was sitting and the gun dropped from my lap. I hesitated, because I suddenly knew what was going to happen next.¡±


    I took a deep breath again and closed my eyes. It must have been long enough because the person sitting next to me nudged me.


    ¡°Well, she grabbed the gun and pointed it at me. I was in shock. Would she really have the guts to pull the trigger? Before, I could finish that thought the loudest noise I¡¯d ever heard rang through the small cavern. I felt my chest explode with pain. This was a first. I¡¯d never really been hurt like this before. I couldn¡¯t even speak. I wasn¡¯t angry at her, I knew why she did it. She was scared. And I could see the remorse on her face. I felt my shirt start to soak up the blood and heard it drip onto the ground. Only a few moments passed when we both heard rocks start to move behind me. A rescue team was drilling just a few feet away in a large cavern. I assumed they heard the gunshot and knew exactly where we were based on that. I told her it was okay. I didn¡¯t want her to worry. I told her next time to think about what she was doing before she pulled the trigger. Then the world around me warped, like it does, and a bright light consumed my vision. That¡¯s when I found myself here, lying on the ground in your basement.¡±


    I stopped talking. I didn¡¯t think I could say anything anyways. It hurt too much. The person sitting beside me stopped crying. I wonder what they were thinking. I tried to ask but nothing came out. They just sat there staring across the room at the door. Maybe they were waiting for the police to arrive, maybe they were thinking about my story, I don¡¯t really know.


    The world started to warp around me, and the bright light was starting to surround me. ¡°I thought I was going to leave after I helped the girl, but maybe I was supposed to help you. If I live, just know I¡¯ll never forget this conversation we had, and I¡¯ll be sure to tell people about you. I don¡¯t know if that means anything though. Like I said, I don¡¯t know how this works.¡±


    The person sitting next to me nodded and stood up. Just before the light completely consumed me I heard them say one more thing. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was, but I knew what it felt like. It felt like that feeling when you yell at your pet for having an accident on your brand new carpet, but you¡¯re the one that forgot to let them out. I heard a door upstairs be broken down. They were too late though. I was already gone.

 Lying with you

    The roar of the machine echoed through the empty hall. The air lay heavy on my shoulders and with each turn of the giant metal gear, my chest tightened. If a grenade went off next to me I don''t think I would notice. Still, the same thought kept creeping across my mind. What if?


    It was years ago, but I can remember her on that day. She was smiling, she always smiled, or at least, she used to. I was spending another boring day with her. It was shortly after we''d been on our third date. She was young, vibrant, and so free. I knew her future was going to be amazing. With eyes full of trust, she told me all about how happy she was that we were finally dating. I thought this was silly and adorable. I couldn''t comprehend why anyone would want to be with me. Who was I? Just some person. I wasn''t really good at anything, nor was I completely terrible. I was exceptionally average. Maybe that''s all she expected, maybe that''s all she desired.


    I could remember that day because it was the day I told a lie. The only lie I''ve ever told on purpose. She was smart and was going to a good school, in just a short few months. This relationship couldn''t last. She was too good for me, and I knew it, she had to be as well. I sometimes wonder if she was just toying with me, or pulling a prank on me. It was unlikely, her kindness knew no bounds, and I was so fortunate to be someone she wanted to give her soul to.


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


    I didn''t understand. In the beginning, I didn''t want to, this kind of love was something I knew I would never feel again. Warm, welcoming, and unconditional, well almost. Love is fickle, being a near mirrored reflection of trust. The problem with a lie is once it''s said it''s known as the truth. Lies dismantle trust in the same fashion as atoms being split and truths create chemical bonds made of silly string. Which did I expect to hold? I knew the consequences, but I said it anyway.


    It was one simple sentence, one simple lie. But, she no longer smiled.


    Why did I say it? Because she did not deserve to be dragged down by me, she did not deserve a boring life where I constantly felt like I would need to keep up.


    I wonder all the time if my reasoning is even the truth. Could I have not tried harder? Grown to be better? For her? I don''t know. That is why I have wondered my whole life, what if. Today I finally get the chance to know. I stepped close to the machine and grabbed a small handle situated on the side. This is when I noticed the whole ground was shaking, vibrating. Others would notice this sensation soon. It was time to go. I stepped in and suddenly the world spun around me and I felt myself die. Almost instantaneously, I was brought back lying in a field next to her again. She was smiling.

 Self Fulfilling

    ¡°It was this or suicide,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t have a sad story. My parents are still married, they just had their thirty-fifth anniversary just last month. I have two older brothers, I know they would do anything for me. Some time ago, man, we were still in high school. I had this bully, everyone does, they didn¡¯t hate me or target me specifically. This bully was known for his bullying, let¡¯s just say that.¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯d never really messed with me before but for some reason that Friday he decided to pull my hair. I screamed. I wasn¡¯t expecting it. I was reading a book, I don¡¯t remember the title. I was so surprised though, and it really hurt. The bully laughed and laughed while I sat there crying. I wouldn¡¯t consider myself weak and I wasn¡¯t going to sit there and let him hurt me so I stood up to defend myself. Now that I think about it, I don¡¯t know what I was going to do.¡± She laughed to herself.


    ¡°Before I could do anything though, my brothers were standing behind this behemoth of a child. I didn¡¯t have to say anything, and they didn¡¯t. To give you some context this bully was built like a barn and my brothers were more in line with young trees in the spring. They weren¡¯t fighters or anything. They had numbers on their side, though. No one spoke a word, but my eldest brother grabbed the bully¡¯s hand and put their fingertips laid out on my desk, leaving the palm of their hand overhanging the ground. Then my other brother punched his hand. The sound of his fingers breaking was one of the most satisfying sounds I¡¯d ever heard. Needless to say, that bully never picked on anyone ever again.¡± The girl in front of me looked to be somewhere in her early twenties. She was tall and scrawny, with barely any meat. She was wearing a big sweater and thick pants; most people did when they came to see me. Her pink hat was different though. Most people had orange or blue.


    ¡°Anyways, they always did things like that, so I know I¡¯m loved by them. My parents have always been there for me too. They constantly try to support me, not monetarily, but with words of encouragement and attending all of my sporting events and things like that. All of that is to say, there¡¯s no reason for me to feel this way.¡±


    ¡°Feel what way,¡± I asked. ¡°Please, explain.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to call it,¡± she said, looking away from me. ¡°It¡¯s like a combination of hopelessness, apathy, and anger. It lives in my chest. I can feel it. Sometimes it stirs and moves to my head, making me think things. Like what if I died right now or what if I killed my family? Then there are days when it moves to my mouth. It has a horrible taste, and it reflects when I speak to people. I¡¯m mean, I¡¯m hurtful and I don¡¯t know why. On those days my mouth will talk faster than my brain can comprehend. At the end of conversations, after I¡¯ve completely torn a person down, I¡¯m left wondering why I said those things. Sometimes it¡¯s so vile, I wonder if the conversation even happened, because I don¡¯t believe I would say something like that to another human.¡±


    ¡°You feel like you don¡¯t have control,¡± I said sincerely.


    ¡°Yeah, I suppose. There are days when it moves to my legs. I end up in the worst places, trashy bars, meth houses, and an ex¡¯s house who was too good for me.¡± Her voice trailed off like she had just come to this realization. ¡°Some days it moves to my hands, this feeling. Those days my hands are numb, I know they¡¯re not mine. When I work on a project, anything really, I know I¡¯ve ruined it. Like, at my parent¡¯s anniversary party. I was in charge of a very simple task, making a side dish to go along with their main course. The day I made it, the feeling was in my hands. The dish I made completely clashed with their main dish. They did not go well at all.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re thinking, well that¡¯s such a small thing. Most likely a mistake, or an accident. And even if it wasn¡¯t, it¡¯s such a small aspect of life. Why would I worry about it? Why would I be so concerned over something so minuscule? Did I hurt anyone? No. Did anyone even say anything to me about it being horrible? No. Maybe that¡¯s the worst part about it. I don¡¯t know. I did do it on purpose though, and still, no one cared. No one really ate it. Maybe it was me trying to act out? But, what for? I¡¯m not a bad person. I try to do the most good no matter the consequences, but the outcome never seems to fall in my favor. It might be because sometimes I don¡¯t actually do the right thing¡­¡± Her voice trailed off again.


    I felt this was going in the wrong direction. ¡°So, let¡¯s start getting to the point,¡± I said, changing the subject. ¡°What seems to be your issue, your problem, or your deepest desire from life?¡± She took a moment and thought. The cold air burned the sides of her face. That doesn¡¯t happen frequently. No one spends enough time out here to get hurt by the wind. Sometimes on the north-facing side of the mountain people would get caught in bad storms. Those individuals would have burns on their faces like hers, but in the last few weeks, there were no storms. How long has she been out here?


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    ¡°I don¡¯t have a problem!¡± she yelled out at me. It was unexpected. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? That¡¯s what¡¯s wrong. I wake up every morning and do the same exact thing I¡¯ve been doing for the last ten years. Nothing ever changes, and if it does, I don¡¯t feel anything from it. I lay down at night feeling alone, whether or not someone is in the bed with me. It doesn¡¯t matter how nice someone is to me. I¡¯ll hurt them. I¡¯ll ruin them. I don¡¯t know how, but it just happens. I work a job, one most people would kill for, and it¡¯s not even that hard or special. But I still feel no satisfaction. I sometimes wonder, ¡®what if¡¯. I daydream of living a horrible life and being mistreated, not because of some sick fetish, but because maybe then I could explain why I feel the way I do. I feel horrible all the time. Sick to my stomach, at the thought of repeating another day. I have no purpose and I know the world would not remember me. I don¡¯t know what I desire, because it¡¯s pretty much nothing. I just want to feel. I just want to be able to desire. It¡¯s like I was born without that spark that drives people. No, not the spark, but the wick. There¡¯s nothing to light, and what remains is anger.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say. I could see her breath with each exhale. To me, this did not look like a woman without a drive, without desire. It was just harnessed in the wrong part of her spirit. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn¡¯t. ¡°I think I understand,¡± I said to her softly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you could,¡± she said, turning away from me. ¡°I mean look at you. You sit there and listen to us tell our stories, and you help all these people. You have a purpose and a reason for being alive. What do I have? A boring life? A bland apartment? When does this feeling end? That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. If this doesn¡¯t help, then I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do. I think though, I¡¯m not even strong enough to end my own life. Saying it out loud makes me shiver. But, would I feel something then? Would the constant pounding headache of life, then be felt by someone other than me? I know I¡¯m not alone. That doesn¡¯t mean someone cares about me.¡±


    I watched her take her gloves off and adjust her hair underneath her hat. She had long brown hair. She was actually quite beautiful. I understood why it was easy for her to hurt people. If I wasn¡¯t stuck here in this cave, who knows what kind of life I could try to give her. Would I then be hurt by her like the way she describes? I guess it didn¡¯t matter, there was no point in me wondering what life could be; my life was already predestined to be lived here.


    ¡°What do you need from me,¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m ready to get on with it.¡± I stood up from my blanket.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve got all the information I need,¡± I responded. Truth be told I don¡¯t really know how this all works. I think one time someone explained it to me, but I¡¯ve long forgotten those stories. ¡°I¡¯ve got what you need right here.¡± From beside me, I grabbed the small bowl. The woman in below me looked up at it. She didn¡¯t believe me, no one ever did.


    ¡°Is that really it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I responded. ¡°Now come to me and take it from me. All you have to do is take this bowl scoop from the pond in front of you and then return the bowl to me. That¡¯s it.¡±


    She stood there thinking it over. Then she hesitantly walked up the stairs to me. As she was, I couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for her. She didn¡¯t deserve the life she was living. I hoped that this would help her. Most people come here asking for money or fame, not many come for problems they¡¯re dealing with, and even less come seeking guidance in life. I turned to her and held the bowl out so she could grab it. She took it and looked me in the eyes. I wonder what she thought of at that moment because she held her stare for longer than expected. She took the bowl from my hand and walked back to the pond.


    She dunked her hand and the bowl into the water. It was warm. Her hand was steaming when she brought the bowl to her face. She looked up to me, and asked, ¡°are you sure this is going to help?¡± I nodded but, I really didn¡¯t know. That wasn¡¯t my purpose. I was put here to listen to her request and to lend the bowl, but only after I¡¯d felt I heard enough. Still, she stared at me, pondering whether or not she could trust me. Then she drank.


    She stood there for a moment after just staring at nothing. This was normal, but then something very strange happened. The look of anger and discomfort that had been on her face this whole time slowly morphed into a smile. It kept changing until it was a distorted look of happiness.


    ¡°Did you get what you wanted?¡± I asked. I don¡¯t ever ask this. It¡¯s none of my business, but I was concerned for her. She took the bowl and set it at the foot of the stairs. Without looking at me she left the cave through its only entrance. I knew I¡¯d never see her again, and I also knew I¡¯d never forget her. I would forever wonder what happened to her. I walked down the stairs and retrieved the bowl. Most people left it down there. I enjoyed the little bit of exercise.


    ¡°You can come in!¡± I yelled to the next person waiting outside in the cold.

 The Lake Street Massacre

    At the end of a ten-hour shift, James sat in his car alone listening to the sound of the engine hum. He found it hard to distinguish between the throbbing in his head and the occasional hiccups in the old sedan. With both hands on the wheel, he contemplated backing out of the driveway and finding an endless road out in the country to get lost. The tunnel of corn with nothing but a moon at his back and the wall of darkness in front of him beckoned him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Even from the car, he could hear the chaos inside.


    His wife was shouting through both the screams of a teenager and some middle-aged man tearing his vocal cords to shreds through a radio in an attempt at what some would call singing. Kaitlin hated it. The newfound obsession for metal music stemmed from their daughter¡¯s new friends. In truth, James didn¡¯t like it either. He just wished the two women he loved most in the world wouldn¡¯t fight over it. They did nearly every night.


    A blue light flashed in a window on the second floor. Their oldest child, a young man, yelled into a microphone at friends all over the world. Video games. James could remember when Charlie was around his sister Brooklyn¡¯s age. The boy then wanted to be an architect. Last night their son told them he wasn¡¯t going to college. Something about debt and college being a scam.


    James took another deep breath. His headache was somehow worse now.


    He turned the car off, grabbed his safety glasses and helmet, and stepped out of the car. It all happened so fast and with no intention, it didn¡¯t feel real. Nor did standing at the door, struggling to unlock it, and entering his home.


    ¡°Brook!¡± his voice boomed across the living room. ¡°Turn that down!¡± His voice and frustration mixed and even he felt the whip at the end of his words. No sooner had the sentence slipped through his lips did the glare from his wife follow. Her approach to their daughter¡¯s rebellion was reasoning with her. It wasn¡¯t working.


    ¡°You¡¯re the parent Kaitlin,¡± he said feeling both annoyed and frustrated. ¡°Act like it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk that way to me in front of the kids!¡± she snapped back. Fifteen years of marriage and the woman he loved stood before him hurt by his words. This happened every night. Although he knew he was disrespecting her, his patience had been spent on the new hires at work. It was no excuse.


    Before he could say he was sorry their daughter started screaming and crying in a way that annoyed him and made her mom suffer. She ran out of the living room and up the stairs. ¡°Sometimes it feels like she waits for you to get home,¡± Kaitlin whimpered.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± James replied with no hint of regret for the previous exchange. ¡°I haven¡¯t even taken my boots off Kait. Please, just let me take my boots off.¡± His wife left through the doorway that led to the kitchen and left him alone with his work clothes.


    For a minute, the house was quiet. The last thud from his clay-covered boots marked the end of the silence. James walked through their newly renovated dining room. The light blue walls still bother him but Kaitlin insisted on that specific shade. Morning mist blue. For how much it cost James felt it should make him feel something. Instead, it only made him feel they spent too much. It made Kaitlin happy, but he didn¡¯t like the reason why. The color was popular among house flippers. Kaitlin had these dreams of becoming some real estate big shot and becoming rich. She was a stay-at-home mom. That was her job. That should be enough. Either way, their house was becoming her way of proving she could do it. Their retirement fund was the only thing getting flipped.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t track mud through my house!¡± Kaitlin shouted from around the corner.


    ¡°I took my boots off at the door,¡± he shouted back. He turned the corner and entered his wife¡¯s current project. Half of the cabinets were without doors and there was painter¡¯s tape on the other half.


    Standing over the stove with sweat rolling down her cheeks was the most beautiful woman Jame¡¯s had ever seen. Her long light brown hair rested on top of her head held together by an old hair tie clearly on its final days. She was wearing one of her old band shirts and shorts that were meant for his size but not her height. Her long pale legs glistened in old incandescent construction lights. She must have taken down the overhead light. Their eyes met and he could feel her strength, one of the reasons he fell in love with her. She smiled at him as if she forgot how to hate him. This moment was the only reason he came home every day.


    ¡°I¡¯m making drumsticks with mashed potatoes and corn,¡± she said, freeing James from his bliss.


    ¡°Smells good.¡± He made his way over to the washing machine that sat in the corner. He removed his work clothes and slipped on a white t-shirt and basketball shorts that Kait had left out for him. ¡°What was all that yelling about?¡±


    ¡°Your daughter decided she¡¯s vegan and decided I was the devil for cooking chicken like I¡¯ve done a thousand times. That she¡¯s eaten a thousand times. I swear that Luna and Ezra she¡¯s been hanging around are brainwashing her. You heard that music, right? She¡¯s been playing it nonstop since she got off school. You don¡¯t have to listen to it all day like I do. Don¡¯t look at me like that. It would drive you crazy and you know it.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s discovering who she is, Kait,¡± James said, ignoring the headache that so desperately wanted to become a migraine. ¡°You never fought with your mom about anything?¡± He leaned against the counter next to her. The sound of boiling water and crackling butter filled the room.


    ¡°Not like this,¡± she retorted. ¡°I would get mad when I needed to get off the phone to let my mom use the computer. Our daughter called me Hitler for saying she didn¡¯t have to eat the chicken if she didn¡¯t want to but we were going to eat it. I don¡¯t understand why I¡¯m so bad. Don¡¯t look at me like that. Charlie never gave us this kind of trouble. I feel like we¡¯re completely different people. We used to be best friends. I miss my little girl.¡±


    ¡°I know honey,¡± James said. He wanted to say more. Maybe something like Brook still loves her; she just has a lot more to worry about with how the world is now. Back in the day the news was contained to cities, now everyone knows the worst of humanity the moment it happens. He wanted to say it¡¯ll get better when she gets older and realizes all the sacrifices her mom made for her. Brook is just a child. A teenager. This is normal. All they can do is give her love and guidance and hope for the best. ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± he said in a defeated voice.


    Now he wasn¡¯t sure if it was sweat from cooking or tears from the pain either way James didn¡¯t have the energy to deal with it. He put his hand on her back and rubbed for a moment. Kaitlin nodded and stepped away to the fridge. James took the opportunity to grab a beer and make his way back to the living room.


    With the press of a button, his most prized possession came to life. The light from the T.V. filled the room along with the sound of sportscasters and grunts from teams he didn¡¯t really care for. This was his therapy. Every sip of beer made him sink deeper into his recliner and forget that he had to work in the morning. Sometime later Kait brought him a plate of food which she placed on a T.V. tray and with a plate of her own she sat on the sectional beside him.


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    They sat for a few hours eating without talking to each other.


    James¡¯ eyes began to feel heavy and he looked over at his wife. She was gone. At some point in the night, she must have gone to bed. Feeling tired himself he turned the T.V. off and found his way up the stairs. Stepping through the upstairs hall made him feel he was walking past different worlds.


    The first one he passed was his daughters. She was blaring her music behind a closed door. If he were to open it he would smell the faint smell of marijuana and incense, as if he wouldn¡¯t be able to tell. On the walls were posters of bands with men that looked like girls. Or maybe it was the other way around. His daughter was an enigma to him. He missed that little girl too. Even though both him and her would appreciate it if he opened the door and said that out loud, he didn¡¯t want to bother her. He was tired. He kept moving.


    The next world was an energy drink, musk paradise. Behind his son¡¯s door was where cans went to die. If James was honest, it wasn¡¯t the video games themselves that bothered him, it was how much they consumed their son¡¯s life. It was like if he put the controller down he¡¯d die. He didn¡¯t understand how his son didn¡¯t want more out of life. Maybe when he moved out and entered the real world his son would wake up. He will talk to him tomorrow since he is out of high school now. He needed to take responsibility for his future.


    Finally, he stood at the entrance to the most distant world in his home, his bedroom. In the darkness, he could see his wife laying on her side of the bed. He wasn¡¯t sure if she was sleeping or not. She always slept so silently. James slipped under the covers and pressed his body against his wife¡¯s. She was warm. Thinking of his other two kids he thought how nice it would be to start over and try again.


    They were two good people with big hearts and they were in a much better financial position than they were when they had Charlie. Maybe having a baby was the way to heal their broken spirits. It would give Kait a reason to smile every day. James would love that. She was so happy when the other two were still babies. He realized that without talking his hands were conveying this message.


    ¡°James,¡± his wife grunted. ¡°I was sleeping.¡±


    ¡°We should have another baby,¡± he said, kissing her cheek. She flipped around and looked him deep in the eyes. Light from the moon slipped through the curtains and made her eyes shimmer.


    ¡°Really?¡± she asked while he went in for a kiss on her neck. He nodded. The embers of love that were on the brink of going out were reignited. Enthusiasm for love overcame the two of them and they tried for another child. After a while they found themselves laying in the dark exhausted. It didn¡¯t take long for both of them to fall asleep.


    James awoke from a dream feeling uneasy. He wasn¡¯t sure what the time was but the moon no longer lingered in the sky outside his bedroom window. Something was wrong. He grabbed Kait by the shoulder and made sure she was breathing. She was, and she was annoyed that he had woken her up. The feeling that something was off wouldn¡¯t go away and his heart began to pound. He threw his legs over the bed and went into the hall.


    It was dark and the silence seemed so loud. There was something about these late hours that always filled him with a sense of dread. He went to his son¡¯s room and cracked the door. The boy lay in bed half covered in a sheet snoring like he¡¯d never have to wake up. James shut the door and went to his daughter''s room. The door was locked. That wasn¡¯t unusual. He pressed his ear to the door and listened.


    After a few minutes, he heard her snore that sweet innocent snore only a teenage girl could muster. That made him feel better. Everyone was okay. Still, something was telling him to go downstairs. He took a couple of steps and stood at the top of the stairs. Staring down he waited and listened. There was a slight hum and faint glow coming from the direction of the kitchen. Kaitlin must have left the construction light on, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath and smiled. He must have seen it when he went to bed and only remembered it in the middle of his dream.


    James took a few steps down the stairs when he felt a hand shove him between the shoulder blades. The sudden sense of falling made his heart sink. His feet lifted from the steps and all at once he was floating above the stairs. That was until gravity beckoned him. He did his best to protect his head but the impact of the wooden stairs bent his wrist the wrong way. He slid a few steps banging his shins along the way. His head hit the floor, his body fell behind. The room felt like it was still spinning.


    James tried to push himself up, finding his wrist was broken. Pain shot through his whole body. He was able to turn his head and see a person standing at the top dressed in all black and wielding an axe. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was from the pain or from anger, but James yelled out. When the figure walked into the hall the sudden realization hit him. Whoever it was, was going for his family now.


    James heard a loud banging. The person must be trying to get into his daughter¡¯s room. James had to hurry. He awkwardly flipped his body onto the stairs. The pain wasn¡¯t letting him move his legs the way he wanted. ¡°Brook!¡± he yelled out between the banging on the bedroom door.


    The sound stopped and James heard the footsteps walk further down the hall. A door opened and a painful groan reverberated down the hall. ¡°Charlie!¡± James yelled out to his son. He wasn¡¯t sure who was hurt but there was a sound of a struggle and then silence. All the while James was moving up the stairs, one by one. Too slow.


    Then James heard footsteps and another door open. ¡°James?¡± he heard his wife¡¯s confused voice asking for him. ¡°James!¡± she screamed.


    ¡°Kait!¡± he yelled as loud as he could. ¡°Run!¡± Kait was screaming and James could hear the sound of the axe swinging through the air. She must have been putting up some sort of fight because she was grunting angrily. That was until James heard a wet smacking sound.


    ¡°James,¡± she whispered. He could barely hear it but he knew it was the last breath she was going to take. James was at the top of the stairs. He could hear something splashing, like when you get hit by a wave at the beach. Then it was just the thud of metal against wood. Then it was the sound of heavy breathing.


    ¡°Kait!¡± James called out. He was holding back tears. The fear was giving him the strength to ignore the pain. He raised himself to his feet and stepped over to Brook¡¯s door. He banged on it a few times calling out for her.


    ¡°Dad?¡± she asked, the fear evident in her shaking voice. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s in here!¡± he shouted. ¡°Unlock the door!¡± The sound of the lock unlatching clicked in his hands. He turned the handle and saw she was crying and peed herself. He pulled her into the hallway and could hear footsteps coming from his bedroom.


    ¡°Go!¡± he said, pushing her toward the stairs. ¡°I¡¯ll hold him here. Go get help!¡±


    She froze at the stairs when she looked back and saw the person holding a blood-soaked axe in her parent¡¯s bedroom doorway. James noticed it and yelled, ¡°run!¡±


    The intruder burst into a sprint. Brook yelled but managed to get down the stairs. James intercepted the person and grabbed the axe. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± he asked desperately.


    They struggled for control of the axe until suddenly the murderer just let go. James lost his footing and fell back. Trying to catch his fall he dropped the axe and fell directly on his broken wrist. The pain swallowed him again. The intruder quickly went for the axe.


    James fell in a way that he could see down the stairs. He could see his daughter struggling to open the door. Her fear was not allowing her to figure out the locks she had opened a thousand times. The sound of a long woosh like that of a baseball bat right before hitting a homerun consumed the hallway. Then there was great pressure in James¡¯ chest. He couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Looking down at the pressure he watched as the intruder stepped onto his torso to pull the axe out of a gaping bloody hole. James couldn¡¯t move. He tried to yell ¡°run¡± again but only coughed up blood. For some reason, his daughter decided to look back at him. It only halted her escape. The intruder jumped over his body and sprinted down the stairs.


    Finally, Brook managed to open the door and get out, but it was too late. She made it off the porch and into the street. She screamed as loud as she could. The murderer closed in and landed the axe in the back of her head. Both her and the intruder fell onto the asphalt.


    The last thing James saw was the murderer pulling the axe out of his daughter¡¯s head and running off into the dark behind the houses. The sun was rising on Lake street.