The Day My Dream Died

43 - Wit Excoriated

— 43 —

Wit's Excoriation

//\\

To wake in pain—of pain. Lise takes of the container four more pellets, consuming. Teeth grinding, clenching muscle, sweat beading. She begs escape. Given none, she lets flow her tears, waiting on the medicine's respite. What life.

Glass reflecting the candle's flame—the vessel, full with a potential end. She wants to reach out, take it in her hands, and pour the painkillers down her throat until she knows the weight of emptiness in her palm. Again, the end beckons.

She hears voices outside—Aleen and Pelanea, she thinks. And another...

Knock, knock, knock. Tap.

Shock.

Door click unlock.

Lise, unblinking, turns her head. Unreal.

"Hello," he says.

"Not real."

"Intuition," he taps his temple. "You're always more right than you first realize, Akota."

His lips spread in that lopsided grin and she chokes on her grief, trying to hold back sobs, tears spilling.

"Want anything?" He asks, so casual Lise can hear the way things were in his words. If not for the pain in her chest she might be able to pretend a moment of peace.

Despite that, she is compelled to answer as always: honest. "...A way out."

"You already have that. Something you don't."

"...A way forward."

"You have that."

"How? How can I do anything as I am? I can't bear this weight, I can barely stand."

"You abase yourself, Akota. A self-serve sentence. Why do you bear it? Who benefits by your suffering?"

"I... I don't know. What do I do, Akota?"

"How would I know? Sure, I might be the world's sanest man, but I can't speak for anyone but myself—and barely that much. Do as you will; we all see the same end, one way or another."

Lise turns away, unable to meet his eyes. "What if I just ceased?"

"Ceased what?"

Where Akota was standing seconds before, Aleen scratches her head. "...What?"

"Were you talking to me?"

"What?"

"I take that as a no. Do you need a moment?"

Lise realizes tears still trickle from her eyes. "I... Um, no, I'm okay. What... What was it?"

"I just came to hear your answer."

"My answer... of course..." She feels the weight. "My answer... I... I fear that by the time I touch the plateau top my sister will be long dead... I am drawn between options, and in all I fail to save her. I appreciate the idea, but feel that you've just given me another false hope."

Aleen nods, inexpressive. "I see... Is saving her possible at all? Would my contributions be futile in all scenarios?"

"I... don't know... I want to believe it is still possible, but I don't know. I've failed so many times... It bears me down and down, and I can't shed its weight. I'm buried beneath a prison of my own creation. The only way to free myself is to let go of all, at which point I will drift... and drift, floating, for nothing remains to ground me. All reason cast off. Bearing the weight, I am a fool. Letting go, I am nothing."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand... What weight, what prison do you refer to?"

"Responsibility..."

"You consider that a prison?"

"It is. It confines me to certain paths. Because of it, I must pursue my sister, I must try and save who I can. Even if I fail at every step, responsibility pushes me along. It has pushed me through more pain and suffering than I ever imagined experiencing, let alone fighting past. Yet, as the pain, the weight, grows ever greater, even responsibility cannot move my feet. I feel its falseness. It frays—its illusion failing—and its power fades with it. It seems, before I knew it, I have already given up hope of saving anyone. I don't know if I can save Seli. I don't think I can. It's rending me, flaying my mind, trying to carry the weight, because I know that the moment I fully release it I will simply... cease."

"I... understand. Not completely, but better than before. There is something I feel I'm missing, and I think once I get that everything else will click into place. These are very heavy concepts, and I need some time to process what you've said. I will reconsider my earlier proposition; perhaps you were right to forgo it, but I'm struggling with your perception..."

Lise slowly nods, drained. "Yeah... I'm struggling with it too."