Chapter 8: The Reason for a Name (3)
Warning: themes of rape and suicide
She began to cry. At first the tears just leaked out, but she quickly broke down into a sobbing mess. He sighed. He let go of her wrist and retracted the blade of the box cutter, stuffing it in his pocket. He took a step back. She shuddered and also pulled away from him.
He stood a few pieces in front of her, watching her. She never raised her head to meet his gaze. When her knees looked like they were about to give, he grabbed a chair and slowly brought it over. He set it next to her, and she recoiled, but he pretended but to notice. She sank into it as he went back to his original position. He was about to sit on the floor when I interrupted.
- You should move a few steps to the left.
At that moment, a cold breeze blew in and a sneeze could be heard.
"... Should I close the door?"
- No.
"No!" Our answers came out simultaneously.
"I mean... please... don't." She choked out through sobs.
His pupils shook slightly as realization dawned on him. He turned back to look at the open door, the only exit. His gaze flickered between his own position and the young woman's only possible escape route. He took three steps to the left.
- I cast a temperature management barrier.
He nodded slightly to indicate he heard.
...
"Why?" She had finally calmed herself down, and now look exhausted. She stared at him steadily with lightless eyes.
"... I already told you." He returned her gaze with a stare no brighter than her own.
They stayed that way for a while. She sought answers in his eyes, and he patiently waited, perhaps hoping that she might find something.
...
"I'm not a professional." My companion was the first one to break the long silence. "I do know have a friend who knows a lot, but neither of us ever received formal training. And I never learned much about... how to handle these kinds of... situations..." He caught himself beginning to ramble and refocused. "What I mean to say is, if you want help, I can't give it to you. There are plenty of other people out there, a phone call away, who are much better than I am. But if you just want someone to listen... I can do that at least."
"Why?" she asked again, but I could hear a hint of life crying back into her voice. She was genuinely curious and not hollowly asking.
"... Your name."
"Explain to me."
"It's complicated."
"I'm a good listener."
He frowned, but started speaking anyways. It was a story he and I were both very familiar with.
"Where I'm from, names are considered to be quite... sacred, precious. They carried deep emotions and meaning."
"Mine is not," she scoffed.
"Yours is... beautiful." She didn't react, although she probably would have gasped had she been less tired. "A name is an identity, something you can never truly throw away. To have a name like 'light.' Your parents probably saw that in you. It would be a shame if the light goes out before its time."
"I don't believe you," she murmured.
"You have every reason not to."
"How did you know? What I was going to do? Even I didn't know for sure until I saw the knife."
He laughed mirthlessly. "I've seen enough people wanting to die that I can recognize another in a heartbeat."
And he had seen it every day without fail for the longest time.
"... That was my boyfriend. The one you beat up."
He nodded silently, his face betraying nothing.
"He started walking me back from work a few weeks ago. At first he would stay outside the building. Then he came up to my front door. It wasn't long before I invited him in. And then one day..." She broke off weakly, then forced herself to continue.
"One day, he asked to stay the night. I let him. And that's when he did it." Her voice shook, but she kept going. "And he kept doing it. Every night since that day."
Terror. Desparation. Guilt. Remorse. And a hint of relief.
"No one will believe me. He's my boyfriend after all. It's normal for people in a relationship like us to do things like that. Only... I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for it to happen yet."
He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, then closed it again.
"I wasn't ready." Tears silently began to stream down her face once more.
"I'm scared. I'm scared of him. I'm scared of telling him to stop, scared of him laughing it off and continuing like before. Scared of the day he'll stop laughing it off. He's strong. You knew that, didn't you? I also knew.
"Everything felt so wrong. I wanted it to stop, but I couldn't do anything. No, there was only one thing I could do. There was one way I could end it all."
"Can you answer me properly? Why did you stop me?"
"I'm a rather selfish person."
She listened to him speak.
"You reminded me of someone I knew, long before. I'd like to consider him a good friend, though we didn't get to meet up much.
"His name also meant 'light.' But his life was always full of darkness. He hated the name, cursed it, mocked it, and buried it deep inside his heart. But when he told me his name, that was the one he gave me. It was the one he wanted to be remembered by. And when the name left his lips, it rung true.
"He died. You don't have to."
"... That doesn't explain it."
"I know the value of a life. I judge it every day. It is my job to weigh lives. And they are heavy. I don't think I can carry much more of that weight."
"That doesn't explain it."
"Then what explanation do you want?" He asked calmly and met her gaze.
"I don't know," she replied truthfully.
"I'm going now." He stood up. "Oh, before I forget." He wandered into the kitchen and searched the cabinets for a bowl and a spoon.
I examined the girl who drifted off to sleep. She must be uncomfortable, sleeping in a chair like that. I give her a blessing of recovery.
- You should cover that.
I tell my companion, who walked out with a bowl of steaming curry. He looked at the sleeping young woman, then headed back into the kitchen.
...
After leaving the covered bowl of curry on the table with a food preservation spell, we locked and chained the door and headed back to own place. He seemed to be thinking about what just happened.
"Hey."
- Yes?
"I don't know."
- You don't know what?
"Was it selfish of me to want her to live?"
- It's not always wrong to be selfish.
Many would not call this selfishness.
"Did I hurt her?"
- Sometimes you have to hurt to be able to heal.
But she has not fully healed.
"Was what I did right?"
- I do not know. I just know that a young lady might have killed herself tonight will live to see another morning.
But the root cause hasn't been solved yet.
"Why do you always answer so vaguely?"
- Because that's the only thing I can do.
Because that's the only thing I allow myself to do.
"I think... I'll have to wait one more day."
Will you be alright? I swallowed those words.
- Okay.
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matcha_leaf
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