𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒 - 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝?
The silence is a big blanket being pushed down onto me, making me breathless; suffocating as I gasped for air. The silence is not even the worst part. I can feel my hair stand on end. I can feel my heart beating furiously. I can feel my sweat trickling down my forehead. Once again, I'm scared. I'm scared of dying. What a lame fear. I used to think I'd greet death like an old friend, but no. I was shivering and dripping cold sweat like a sick puppy.
It's been a few days. I'm not sure exactly how long but I've seen the sun comes and go and I tried so hard to tell myself that I'll be okay.
Bernard no longer feels wary of me. Instead of watching over me, he went away and started cleaning the house. There's not much to clean. It was already clean because of his constant cleaning. He walked closer to me, bent down, and started brushing off the dust on the table that I lean against. I stared at him, thinking I should try talking with him again.
"Bern?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't you ever want to get out of here?"
"In case you forgot about it, I would be hunted down if I was out there, kid."
"Hm...wait– kid?"
"You're small."
"Rude. You're just tall for no reason."
"If honest and blunt is that then yes. I'm rude."
I rolled my eyes at him. Bernard is not an easy person to bend. Getting into his head might take more work than I thought. Seeing how little expression he wore, I should have known it'd be harder than just pulling his wall down and hearing his stories to get him to hear me out.
Occasionally, without me wanting it to, my eyes would find themselves staring towards the room at the far left. The witch room. Other times, I would take turns looking at the front door, the window, Bernard and my legs. There's not much that could take my attention away from the desperate cry to just get up and run out of here.
Grief was a big shadow looming over me, reminding me that the witch was constantly mocking me. She left the front door open, knowing I couldn't ever run out even if I wanted to. She's laughing straight to my face and I can't do anything about it.
"Boy," I heard her voice call out soon after, and immediately Bernard rushed to the old lady, disappearing into the room where not even his nose could be seen. I could hear chattering, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Gibberish is all I hear, floating in the air, despite how much I try to focus on what they're discussing.
And a second later, the old lady walked out of the room with Bernard beside her. She was dressed in a casual red kirtle, seemingly blending in with regular mortals. She had a smile on her face, but it soon dropped when she saw me. Stopping short in front of me, she cleared her throat. "Boy. Watch over her. Don't let her out of your sight. Do you hear me?"
Bernard didn't answer her; he merely gave her a small nod. Her eyes scanned over me. My soul seemed to be sucked in by her; leaving nothing but hollow in me. She scowled at me before she walked out of the door, still leaving the door open, and went on her way.
I stared and stared and stared at the door. Not quite believing my eyes. She's gone. The witch is gone. Then I stared up at Bernard, who was apparently already looking my way. When I locked eyes with his blue eyes, I felt calm, but then a sudden doubt and fear started dropping onto me. I tried to lift it up and calm myself down, but instead, I started hyperventilating. What if it was a test? What if I try running now and she's already waiting for me? What did she tell him to do? Question upon question, flooded through my head like a storm.
"What's wrong with you?"
Hearing his voice, I could feel myself grow calmer. I clenched my hand tightly, feeling my nails dug into my palm. Slowly, I started to grip onto reality and tried to mentally slap myself for panicking now out of any moment. "I'm– I'm not okay. You know I'm not. What's the point of asking?"
"I– I just thought–"
"You thought wrong." I placed my hand over the table behind me and tried to lift myself off the ground. It was hard. Really hard. –especially since my legs were numb and I couldn't feel it at all.
I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move; yet he moved not a single muscle to help me or stop me. He just watched. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.
"What does it look like, genius?"
"A baby trying to walk when it can't."
"I might be able to do it if you help me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because I don't want to."
"Just let me take a look at her room. If I could just–"
"No. Over my dead body."
"I just don't like being limb-locked! Just once. I won't ask for more from you."
"No." His face was stern and cold. He stare and stared; no more words came out of him.
Feeling unwilling to converse with me anymore, he went away, and as soon as he was out of my sight, I fell to the floor. I groan in frustration. Tears started forming in my eyes; flooding down as I let out a painful cry. I can feel a sharp glass shard piercing its way into my heart the more that I cry.
Why must I be captured? Is my life really just a game for everyone to bet on? Why should I suffer like this? Why won't anyone help me? Why won't anyone find me? Why?...
I weakly pulled my leg together, hugging myself as I cried more into my sorrow. I cried and cried and cried, flooding the room with my tears. The shadow engulfed me in one swallow, and it wouldn't let me out, no matter how much I knocked on its door, no matter how much I cried for it to let me out.
Quiet steps walked towards me. It stopped right beside me. "Would you stop crying?" Bernard asked as he sat next to me. "Please," he whispers.
I shook my head as I sniffled into my arm. "I-I ju-just- What did i do so wrong? Wh-WHY? Just WHY is EVERYONE treating my death like– like a game?" I lifted my head up and looked at him. I feel exposed and bare; feeling as if I was sitting there naked for him to see. Pride is a luxury I can't afford if I were to die here. Pride is a luxury I can't help but refuse before it's even offered to me. "I don't want to die. I haven't apologised to my mother yet. I was a horrible daughter. I was a constant pain in her arse. I was–" I couldn't say more. I choke on my words. I feel tears flowing down my face as my voice dies down, leaving nothing but a hollow hole where my voice was supposed to be.
"I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I miss my mother, too. I hate people playing with people's lives too. But I can't help you. It'll haunt me for life, but I can't help you. I was indebted to the witch. I'm really sorry."
I stayed quiet. Despite his sincere tone, I stayed quiet. No sound came from me. Only tears and more tears. I turned my head and looked out the window. Quietly looking at the trees.
Is this my fate? Is this how I'll die? Is there really no one I can rely on? Should I just give up and die here?
I stayed frozen at my spot as if I had been petrified. I made no effort to move. I made no effort to talk. I made no effort to wipe my tears. I only froze.
Then, I could feel a warm cloth rubbing against my watery cheeks, and when I looked at where it came from, I saw Bernard's eyes, looking at me with worry. He was wiping my cheeks with the back of his sleeves.
I kept my eyes on him and slowly, I could feel my heartbeat grow to a normal speed again. I smiled a small smile at him. "Thank you, Bern."
He shook his head and stayed quiet as he watched me. I stared right back at him, a smile never too far from my face.
"How can you smile at times like this?" he asked.
"At a time like this, as long as there's one person in the whole world who would be there for me, I can smile. Not to mention, you don't exactly like it if I cry."
"No, I don't. It pains me when I heard it."
"Do you want to be my friend, Bern?"
"Friend?"
"Until the day the witch finally kills me. We can be friends even after death. I don't mind. Do you want to be my friend?"
"Would you stop crying if I said yes?"
I nodded at his question with a bigger smile plastered on my lips.
"Fine. Friends," he said.
"Friends," I grinned.