Chapter 26 - My Soul
She's asleep. If I stir and it rouses her slightly, I know she'll react and snuggle into me. The arm and leg will go over and slightly around me. A thing that will warm me, comfort me, entice me to stay. She has a goal, of course. To once again, fly. She wants to take flight easily, like most other people do. Another adult bird, that can simply hop up a tad, a little flap or two, and... glide off of that couple inches and turn it into real flight.
She's getting there, too. I'm impressed with her, honestly. Like some young bird snatched and savaged by a predator, she was left behind as nothing so much as a ripped up carcass. Like when the owner of a cat, finds a little pile consisting of balls of fur in the corner of the back yard. Everyone knows what went on in the dark before you found that in the light of morning. A predator, captured prey. It tore it apart, and consumed what it wanted and left the rest like you take a shit and walk on.
But, the bird somehow lived. It should have frozen to death, and it almost did. She had to fight instinct. A wounded animal, will just as easily hide and die. Try to save a cat, that has a broken leg. Ran over by a vehicle. The more you chase it? The more it runs and hides. She fought that the next morning, when her eyes opened anyways. She had closed them the night before, numb and hurt bad. The pain of the broken ribs and injured joints? Subsided in the cold numb. Death can feel as a blessing, when it comes just so.
But no. There was still a spark of life in her veins. Like that tiny pinprick glow of orange, when you kick around in ashes of a fire you thought was out. The sun found her as all but a carcass, and warmed her. Perhaps some ray of light fell around a leaf just so. A sunbeam falling just right, can produce a surprisingly warm spot. Ask any dog or cat. Or her, really. She had to fight instinct and hobble out to people. To ask for help. Just like the cat that finally drags that leg behind it, and comes up to someone. Hoping against hope? Its not anther person that will swerve to run them over and drive off laughing. Praying its someone that will scoop them up into that car? And whisk them off to get fixed.
So? This cat lived. I'm looking down at it. It really is a wonderful cat, too. Its sweet and loving. After the cute little doggy game? I got her onto a related role play. We played doggy, now lets play kitty. And she did. But cats mate different than dogs, don't they. Doggy mating? Had been quick and brief. All deep and hard, a sudden series of thrusts. That's what she had wanted. I had been touched, rubbed, groomed... until several authoritative insertions and retractions finished it.
Later on, the kitty game? Started out much the same, but... cats make noise. They scratch. They wrestle, fight, bite. The girl cat cries out. Tries to wake the entire neighborhood. The boy cat knows not to stop, but rather to go for broke. I tried my best. I hope any local cats are if not impressed, at least hold approval for our performance.
After she crawled out of the underbrush, the baby bird that lived somehow and hopped up out of the pile of bloody feathers and went for help? There's no nightmare over, it continued. I've had broken ribs before, I know what she went through on that count alone. Every night, your body puts you to sleep by slowing your breathing. It wakes you back up? With that first deep breath. It turns into the morning yawn and stretch, normally. With smashed ribs, there's no yawn and stretch. You're ripped awake, each and every morning. That first deep breath? Your cracked and broken ribs pop and snap and you can feel them do it. Explosions of white hot pain, like a string of penny firecrackers going off.
As the physical recovery completed, the psychological recovery reared its much uglier head. Nightmares. Flashbacks. Back home like a child to be taken care of again.
Are we flying now? Or are we just repetitively climbing up onto something, and flapping and stepping off. Gliding safely in a somewhat ineffective flutter of feathers to land harmlessly enough each time, but not true flight. I've watched a baby bird climb with its determined little beak and claws. Up the trunk. It would hop down that branch, and? Jump up, flap and step off again. Then? Do it all over again. Until it was exhausted and looked dead. Then? It took a break, and started it all over again.
Is that us? Are we the grown up version of children, playing house? Two human birds. Wings physically fixed, but we lost the ability and confidence to fly. Maybe if nothing else, she just wants a partner bird. To flutter with. Will one of us take off suddenly, and eventually fly off? Or will the first to circle the treetops return, and help and cajole the other to it.
I want that. She wants that. In our therapy? That's our goal.
Regardless of what I ever wanted or needed for myself before all this, here I am. Most things I thought mattered before? No longer do. Little things I never used to think about much, have become huge. I feel childish to rationalize this all, by stating that... they started it. But? They did. If I'm an adult, reduced to playing house now, instead of actually having an adult relationship? Its fitting. This reminds me of being a little child again. I have to learn to fight, and all over again.
This is the adult version of that silly childhood game, all over again. You got your obligatory playground bully. You got your victims. Eventually, the bully will pick on exactly the wrong "victim"? Or not. Everyone watches, every time. Will this be the victim that... no. Not this one. Maybe this time? Looks like... no. The bully? Either develops a conscience, or at least realizes this isn't an optimum strategy for them. Or... the game goes on, after grade school.
When I was young, before I learned to actually fight. There was a period. I cheated. Bad. I came up behind a bully. One that had been torturing me daily, and for years. In the rush of a busy gaggle of children charging up and down steps? I "tripped", and "accidentally" flew into him. Curiously, he just happened to be right at the top of the first step down, and... he ended up in a cast, with a broken bone.
I didn't feel elated, like I thought I would. But I didn't feel bad about it. I tried everything else. Ignoring him, my mom said. He'll move on, to someone else. He didn't. He always circled back around to me. My parents told me to tell teachers. I did. Oh, that got results. Quick, too.
Not results I wanted.
One teacher? Smiled and patronized me. Took time to rationalize and explain his behavior away. Why, he made it seem perfectly normal. And, it was almost a service that bully was performing. Kids have to learn to fight back. Or? To deal with it and ignore it. I was told? To grow up.
Another teacher? Basically laughed at me, and said I was a sissy.
A "concerned" teacher, on my side about the whole thing. Took my side. Didn't help any. Bully? Got a lecture. No trouble. He did the fake shake hands and be friends deal. There. Now? Everything's fine. Just made it worse. He laughed at how he had bamboozled the teachers, and I got hurt more. More often. For longer.
So? Eventually, I got over my lifelong teaching to always be fair and even, and... down the steps, and into a cast.
When he started hitting me with his arm cast a few weeks later? Mad that I had definitely done it on purpose, he could just tell. I ended up grabbing his wrist in that arm cast, to keep him from beating me with it. It was when I started twisting that cast, with both hands? That a stop was finally put to things. I was suddenly in control, and he was suddenly my victim. I held onto that cast. He ended up on the ground, and I kicked him until an adult teacher finally pulled me off him.
Now I'm in trouble. I explained. He was hitting me, in the head and elsewhere? With a plaster cast. I told teachers? They did nothing. Just like before. So, when he finally bashed my lip bloody with it, laughing? I grabbed it to keep him from doing it again. All the other kids standing around watching the show, like always. But he tripped, and I kept that cast in my hands, and... I kicked that son of a bitch with everything I had, and I would not quit for love nor money. Ribs. Face. I kicked and stomped him anywhere I could, as long as I could.
Dozens of children, witnesses? Told the same story. He hurts me daily. For years. He had smashed my lip open and bloody, and was going for more. Laughing. Telling how much fun it was, to hurt me. I had learned, he'll never get in any trouble for this. I can't very well get hurt bad getting hit in the face with a plaster war club.
It was my first time arguing with an authority figure. I wouldn't budge. I ended up screaming and yelling at the principal, who was trying to manage this childhood squabble gone awry.
"So, let me get this straight. Its... totally normal? For that boy to hurt me. Every day, for years. No teacher, not even you, the principal? Will do a thing. Its fine."
He screamed at me. He lost his cool.
"Now? You're getting it! Kids pick on each other! It happens!"
I smiled.
"Well? Sounds like this, today... it just happened. So, why am I in trouble. I thought rules, were for everybody."
"What the hell is wrong with you! I know you're not stupid!"
"If the rules are the same for everybody? Why is he allowed to hurt me, every day. For years. But the first time I hurt him? I'm in trouble. Why can't you explain that to me."
I got screamed at, for twisting his words. I started yelling back. He lost his cool, and called my dad in. My dad, had to leave work and stop into the office. Now, this all gets played out in front of my dad, all over again. My dad? Always was legendary for keeping his cool, and remaining polite. He sat and watched me, a child... going the rounds, arguing, escalating into yelling, with the principal.
The guy made one mistake. In losing his cool, he screamed at me. Said something about he wasn't having his words twisted, by some little weirdo. That, was when my dad got into the act. My dad would lose his cool and yell, sure. Not always, though. On the occasion he carried on? You got yelled at. You might get poked or even swatted at once or twice, but... nothing major.
It was when my dad was quiet, instead of when you thought he should be yelling. That? Was when he was actually dangerous. My dad sighed, and got very quiet. I froze. This? Is not good. I guess I'm well and truly fucked now. But? I wasn't. Too quiet, he spoke way too soft.
"My turn to talk now."
The principal thought he was going to talk over my dad, and kind of tell him how things were going to be about this. Surely, he understood. These things happen, and you can't have kids getting hurt over nothing.
"I said? It was my turn to talk now. I've been sitting here, for ten minutes now. How many times have we gone through this. Him, that same boy. Couple years now? Here we are. My kid? Comes home with marks on him. That kid? Does it. You? The teachers? Won't do shit to him. He finally gets a mark? Wow."
"Sir? I don't think you understand, what---"
"Shut up. I want my kid's question answered. Hell, I want this answer. Why is it. That kid? Is allowed to hurt him. Every day. Steal his stuff. Flush his stuff down the commode. Spit on him. I'm looking at him right now? He's got a golf ball, for a lip. I? Want you, to explain to me now. How you explain yourself. Why, is that kid allowed to hurt him, constantly. But? If he hurts him back, he's in big trouble."
"Sir? That's not the real issue. You see, what---"
"Shut up. We're done here. Son? You, go back to whatever class you're supposed to be in. In the future? If that kid puts his hands on you? You, do whatever you feel like, to put a stop to it. You're not in any trouble at home for it. You might get suspended? Don't worry about it. You? Don't worry about this. Go to class. Me and this gentleman? Are going to stay and have a private talk."
That was more or less the end of it. Oh, it went on to happen again. But, with a different bully. I took it all for a long period of time. Stoic. But eventually? I'll kick you in the shin with my cowboy boots. I played soccer, and I'm aiming for that shin or knee. I'll kick you in the nuts with everything I have, then stomp your face and ribs. I'll stab you in the arm or shoulder with a sharp pencil, and break the tip off in you. I'll take a handful of a pepper shaker I emptied out? And suddenly blow it in your face and eyes, rub my peppery fingers in your eyes, then attack you when you're blind and coughing for breath.
The underdog? Has to fight dirty, to have a chance to win.
You see, its no fun to be... the smart kid. Also, not fun to be... the strange, weird kid. But being both? Not a good recipe for a happy childhood. And? The formula never changes. Bullies? Are more or less rewarded. Victims? Are simply laughed at. I could abide this system, but when a victim fights back and finally wins once? Here comes authority, and indeed the whole system? Down onto you.
Bullies, get into none at all or simply very little trouble. But if a victim fights back? You get into huge trouble. Honestly, I thought this was all some stupid childhood bullshit. When we all grow up? We'll be adults, and act like it.
I'm still waiting. I'll die of old age waiting on that to happen.
Nope. Just the way things are. Didn't call it that till older, but... learned young. It ain't fair. It never will be. Take it as long as you can, its the mark of a man that he's tough and can put up with adversity. But in the end? When it gets to be too much... if you hit the point that the advanced penalties for fighting back, harm you less than you're getting hurt on a regular basis? Screw it.
I learned only, that the juice has to be worth the squeeze.
I also learned something else. Don't go in quick. Don't go in easy. Take it for a long time, to make sure. But when you do act? You go all the way. And when the system suddenly comes to the aid of the hurt bully, like it was supposed to come to your aid all those times, and refused? You smile, you tell authority right to its face, how it really is.
I won't apologize. I refuse to shake hands. We'll never be friends. If this continues? If he gets his buddies to help him get me next time? I'm going to hunt them down, one at a time. Jump them from behind, and stab them with a sharp pencil. And there's nothing you can do about it. Whatever you do to me when that happens? Doesn't matter.
I had one well meaning adult male teacher. Take me aside. Try, to ever so gently? Explain. Okay, technically? You are, of course... right. But, you can't go on forever like this. This has to stop, at some time. What answer did I have for him, did I understand this. I waited, and gave him my serious answer.
"This needs to stop now, huh? Well, I guess they better stop."
"But... the kid had to go to the emergency room! He had to get stitches!"
I simply looked at him.
"Honestly? If you really want to put a stop to all this? That's what you want, right."
He sighed. Finally.
"Yes."
"Good, good. I wanted a stop put to all this, for years now. Glad someone's finally on board now. But, if I could make one little suggestion."
Thinking he was finally getting through.
"Sure, sure..."
I leaned in to deliver my message.
"Why don't you try having this little talk, with them. Hmm? Because I'm not in charge of this. They are. And when they quit first? Then, I'll stop."
He shook his head, in mild exasperation.
"But... someone's going to get hurt. I mean, really hurt."
I smiled.
"Great. You're finally getting the idea. Someone is going to get hurt. If they don't quit? The next one, will stay in the hospital for a while."
He just looked at me.
"You can't... live your life like this."
I giggled.
"Welcome to the party. Glad you could make it. Isn't this a fun party? People getting hurt. When I get hurt, over and over? Its just so much fun. Its a big joke. For years now, all the teachers, principals... they all keep telling me. This? Its all normal. Its just kids being kids. Picking on other kids? Its just a little bit of fun."
He didn't know what to say.
"So. What I think you should do? Is go, and talk to them. Remind them. How this is all... just one, big, fun, game."
I was a tall and skinny kid when young. I was the late bloomer, who wouldn't fill out lifting weights until after high school. I slowly learned to fight, and I mean properly. Doesn't come quick, doesn't come easy. The whole system, the game? Its fucking retarded. But? Stuck in the game, ain't I. You want to play? Let's play.
I slowly changed things. I was always going to be the smart kid, the weird kid. As an adult? I prefer the term eccentric to crazy, thank you very much. The game will still go on, of course. Human nature, after all. I just fine tuned my response. Eventually? Word gets around. And in a new situation, with new people? I've learned how to handle it. Take it for an extended period of time. Then? You get what you get. And I have no sense of fair play, I obey no rules.
And as an adult? One aspect of the game changes, and only one. There's finally some actual rules. If a person keeps putting their hands on you, and you keep ignoring them and politely trying to talk them out of it, again and again. Witnesses, see this. When they finally go too far, and I over react? I get clear cut self defense. That's like pressing the reset button on the computer, and it reboots the whole thing.
My system isn't designed to win me a popularity contest. Its logically designed? To get me left alone, by people that would harm me.
Here's the whole game, the rules. Not the bullshit rules we spout, that we're taught to repeat like mantras. These? Are the actual rules.
1) If I'm bigger and stronger than you? I'm allowed to hurt you. Just for my amusement, and the amusement of everyone else, as well.
2) If you're smart, or different? Just about everyone joins in at one time or another, and a few will take advantage every day.
3) Bullies, are wonderful things. They get whatever they want. We call it being "successful" and "knowing how to get what they want".
4) If a victim fights back? The bullies will punish them for it. If the victim fights back successfully? The whole system, will punish the victim for it.
5) This isn't a system. This is all nothing more than the law of the jungle. We run our so called "civilized" society? Like a pack of wild dogs.
I really didn't end up bitter about it all. Its just another retarded game, and I have no choice but to learn to play it as best I can.
Its survival of the fittest, and nothing more. Look in nature. If a member of the pack is weak, whatever happens to it, happens to it. If a member of the pack is strange or different? The entire pack shuns it, and will either join in hurting it to drive it off? Or stand back and watch the rest do it. Its not on "them". Its all squarely? On... you.
If you get traumatized and depressed and never mate? The system likes that. You were obviously not fit to pass on your traits. If you successfully come back and use violence effectively, and "win"? Be prepared for an uphill battle. Get ready, because the pack and especially certain members of it? Will double down on the game plan. You have to intimidate every member of your pack, when bark turns to bite. Or, at least put up enough of a fight, that the others realize that this will not profit them anything.
When a bully does his thing? He gets social approval. Others start to do it, too. Look. I do it to him, too.
I wait.
When I finally have the right situation, the right bully? I make it suddenly clear to the rest of the dogs around. What can happen. I'm not a bully. Never once was, never will ever be one. But, I refuse to be a lifelong victim.
I am strange. I am different. There's just bullies. Victims. Everyone else in the middle. Me? I'm none of them. Unlike the rest of the pack? I'm perfectly content to go off and be by myself. I don't mope or whine, why am I alone. I simply enjoy my alone time.
I don't need the pack. Not the way the rest of the pack has that need.
I thought all this shit was long dead and buried. But? Here, we, are. The governor, his criminal crowd. They're nothing more than grown up bullies. You see, bullies? Love to spout the law of the jungle. And at this adult stage of the game, they think they have all their bases covered. They, are at the top of the heap. They, are the bullies. They have victims. Everyone else? In between those two extremes.
What they don't account for? Is a guy like me.
I fought and scraped my way up and out of the hell I was in as a child, and got somewhere I was content. I finally found another clever if eccentric person, that I was more than comfortable with, and she took me from just contented, into full blown happy. I had everything I ever wanted, and more. Just, leave us alone.
Then? They killed her. And why. For being different. For believing in the rules. To make their lives easier, or because she somehow threatened them.
It made me into a shell of a man. You look, you see the outside of me. But, to look into me? Really look deep into me, and you'll see... nothing. A soul, is a verbal manifestation of what a person is, when you take the physical body away. Its what's left. And really, medically, there is nothing else than your body. But we cling to the idea of a soul, even if we realize there really isn't one. So, what is a soul then. I thought about that. And I can tell you.
While you're alive? Your soul, is your actions. Your character, your nature. And after you die, the body rots away in the ground, yet... what remains of you, after you're gone for good. Certainly nothing physical. All that's left, is what you've done. What you were like.
I'm looking down at her sleeping. I'm trying to decide. Is there even anything left inside me. Did they make off with the whole damn package, my entire soul? Or, did they just rip almost all of it out, so its almost all gone. Do I have a little piece of it left. Does that qualify, as my soul. Will that little thing left behind, wither and die. Or, can it be grown back. Like some lizards can grow a tail or a limb back. Sure, the replacement is a little smaller than the original, but still.
Sometimes, I like to take out the "Rain" poem or lyrics or whatever it is. Read it. I don't know if it makes me feel better, but it doesn't make me feel worse. My hand ended up on her hair, and her eyes opened.
"Mm. Did you wanna play with the kitty some more."
"I do. Just not yet."
"Hmm..."
Stretch and a yawn. Like a little cat, without fur. She nudged her chin up at my paper.
"You okay?"
I nodded.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Back when, you still thought... you might..."
"I'm over that."
"Were you just thinking it? Or... planning."
I shrugged.
"There a difference? I got off that road. Doesn't really matter how far down it I went. What's important, is that I'm back off it."
"Therapists, will ask. How you plan on doing it."
"Why. What's the difference. Dead, is dead."
"Humor me, unless it hurts to tell. How."
"You really want to know?"
She nodded.
"When I was young? I used to go... camping, hiking. Climbing, caving. Stuff like that. I was in a group that did that stuff."
"Okay."
"Well? Out of the group, a little older. Me and another guy, went to a cave. With a couple other people. Me and him, we wanted to climb down this one part, see if it opened up down there. We could hear water down there. Maybe we could squeeze down, and get to the water. Find a new part of the cave."
"All right."
"I was the experienced caver. My buddy? We went a couple times. The others? All new."
"Mm hmm."
"Me and him, climbing down. We share a flashlight. One holds it, the other climbs down a little. Then? You hold the light, the other comes down. We need two hands to climb, we need a light."
"Makes sense."
"The rules are. You never, leave people in a cave. Ever. I told them, they have to wait up here, we'll be up. We only have one flashlight, between us. Its not safe."
"Did the others leave?"
"Yeah. And our light broke."
"In a cave."
"Oh yeah. There's no excuse for this. They're bored, they wanna leave. The guy spouting all the stupid rules? And his buddy? Down there. They could just leave. So? They did."
"How... did you get out."
"We had to make our way. In the complete dark. Where we were? The deepest part of that cave. We had to make our way back, with no lights, over suicide pass."
"Sounds easy. I'm kidding."
"Suicide pass? Its a long, like a hallway? You walk with your hands and feet out, on the rough walls. You look down, its like a 30 or 40 foot drop, onto sharp rocks. We made it past that."
"Sounds scary."
"Very. After that, it would have been easy. But, no light. We can't just walk. We'll fall into a hole or off a cliff and die. You crawl, and you feel ahead. If there is a slope? We take turns going down, seeing. While one stays up and holds on."
"How long did it take to get out, like that."
"We were in there, something like two whole days and nights. There's this one room we're looking for. A rock, kind of juts out at the bottom, on an otherwise smooth doorway I called it. I feel down and to the right? I find that bulb of rock? I know where to go, we'll be out quick."
"You found it."
"Before we could find it, we're wandering in the dark. We ended up following a little stream. Cave water? Is really cold all year round. And in winter? Its barely above freezing. We take turns, leading. Following. Going up... worm holes. If the guy in front gets stuck? You kick your feet, and your buddy pulls you back and you worm back out."
"Good plan. Keep your head. Keep moving slow."
"Well. We're dunked in freezing water, following this stream up. My buddy is ahead. Its his turn. He starts kicking his feet like crazy. I pull back, get him out? He, had plugged up the tunnel that was getting tight. Plugged up the water, which went over his head. When I pulled him back, we both got dunked underwater. This is the middle of winter. Snow and ice outside. Caves? Are about 55 or so, all summer. They dip down to about 50, in the dead of winter. But, that freezing water."
She calculated, sleepy.
"Wet. Freezing water. 50 degrees, soaked. Hypothermia time."
"Well? Yeah. We're both getting it, trying to dry off. We took all our clothes off carefully. Wrung as much of that icy water out as we could, so they were damp clothes. That we put them back on."
"That helped?"
"Some. This is, like a day and a half in. I'm getting tired. I want a nap. He wants me to keep moving. I eventually slow down, and take a break."
"Okay."
"Long story short? I was at the end of the hypothermia stages. I was getting sleepy and drifting off. I shouldn't have taken that little break. He kept moving, he came back from numb. I kicked over, and... I was drifting off."
"What happened."
"Well. After I went numb, and the shivers finally quit? The, pain went away. Felt better. Man, I just need a little power nap? I'll be fine. I kinda knew what was going on, but... it just felt so good."
"What did it feel like."
"A little cold? But, just a little. Tolerable. A weird... wet and warm feeling, too. How I'm a little warm, and a little cold at the same time? Just what it felt like. And, I gotta say it. I got so... calm. Really, really peaceful. Man, this felt good. I was... like I said, I was drifting off, slowly."
"Something changed."
"Yeah. I came to, slow. I hear screaming. Yelling. I'm getting punched. Kicked in the head."
"He has to get you up and moving, but... Jesus Christ."
"Glad he did. Now. At the time? Fuck me, let me enjoy my nap. Anyways. He's freaking out. I guess he crawled around, and ended up going in a big circle. He's screaming, to wake up. There's dead bodies down here. He's crawling over them. They're cold and rubbery, we gotta get out of here, away from all these dead bodies strewn around. Other people have died where we are, and no one knows."
"Really?"
"No, little one. After he got me moving, I figured it out. He was crawling in a big circle. Going over me? Unconscious. Cold skin, dropped body temperature. When he figured he had found his way back to me, and was sure it was me? He resorted to kicking me to get me up, because punching me didn't work."
"That worked, huh."
"Yeah. Torture to get moving again. When the numb starts to fade? The... cramps and pain starts. Keep moving, it goes. Got dried enough, we were fine. Back, to crawling in the dark."
"You made it out, after that."
"Almost. We were taking a break, and I thought I heard something. Eventually, I heard it again. We yelled, they yelled."
"Search party."
"Yep. We didn't even need them. We were close. To, that rock on the doorway. Slow going, up every blind alley, but... this was quicker and easier."
"This... started. I asked you how..."
"All I knew after that? Out of all the ways you can leave this world, some are better than others. Until I know better? Once you get past the pain of hypothermia, and you feel that warm wet feeling come around you? Feel that... profound calm and peace settle in. Man, is that a great way to go, or what. Always said. If I had no other choice, like... the kind of pain from cancer? I'd know how to kill myself, if it ever came to it."
"That... was your plan for it, then. Get cold and don't fight it."
I shrugged.
"I didn't plan on it yet. I didn't... set a date or anything. But, if things got bad enough? That's the devil I know, and its better than the devil you don't know. If I had to do it? That's how it would have gotten done."
She paused.
"When you have a plan? And, that's a detailed plan, by the way. That's not... a cry for help pretending thing. You were serious. I mean, just saying hypothermia, when the therapist asks? That's enough. This was..."
"Yeah. I know."
"You're not scared to die."
I looked at her.
"No. I was on death's doorstep, in that cave. Gotta tell you. Can't lie. It felt good. That... wet, warm and cold at the same time feeling? That peace and calm? Nothing to be afraid of. I would, however, prefer to delay it. To me? Like a motel room. You'd rather be in your own bed, but. If you have to? Not that bad."
"But... did you talk like this about it? Before..."
"Yeah. I did. When people sit around, and talk about the... near misses they've had? That's usually my story."
"You're over that part though, right?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Good."
I grinned.
"How about you. Quid, pro, quo. Were you serious about doing it?"
"I was definitely, coming around to the idea. Yeah."
"How. A good friend of mine, told me you ask how. See if they were serious or not."
"Was it just a friend."
I paused.
"No. My lover."
She paused.
"I was leaning towards the whole... wrist, warm water thing. Maybe pills, too."
"What stopped you."
"Well. That's the thing, about all that. If you're serious? No one can stop you."
"You know what I mean."
"My parents. Finding me. What it would do to them. And, some part of me? Is either too weak to kill myself, or too strong and wants to live. And you?"
"Same. Too weak. Too strong. Take your pick. Or? Both. Who knows."
"So... we're both glad we didn't. Right?"
I smoothed her hair.
"Yeah."
I waited. She hugged me around my waist, and adjusted her head onto my lap. Like a contented cat.
"Did you have a... plan? Or, just knowing how was enough."
She spoke into my thigh.
"They call us? Cutters."
"People that try, and..."
"There's a couple classes, of cutters. The mildest cutters? Its pure attention. There's a problem, and it gets them attention. Regardless of the why? They know something's really wrong, and they should be getting help."
"And another class?"
"Well. Some aren't doing it for pure attention. They're... practicing. Seeing what its like. Getting used to it. Very few? Even do it on the thigh. Femoral artery. To hide it. Keeps them from getting help. They wanna do it."
"Any more?"
"You go from there, to the ones that seem like they're attempting it. Classes of them, too. Kind of obvious, if its always timed... just, around the time people are due to come home."
"Attention."
"This isn't a paper cut on the wrist. And the water? Prevents clotting. Its... a much louder cry for help. They're trying to get hospitalized."
"And."
"How deep. How long until someone was supposed to pop home, and they would get found. Its by degrees."
"Then..."
"There's a point? They're trying. Putting the effort in."
I waited.
"Which one were you."
"Couple paper cuts. I was curious. Playing. Started doing it in the tub. Seeing how the tiniest nick? Would just seep out. I was getting used to the red in the water, I think."
"How did this end."
"It was still cold out. This was early on. The rape? Late fall, early winter. Long sleeves."
"That's not what ended it. That's just how you hid it."
"I asked my therapist, if I was playing like that. Did I have to be hospitalized? She said if I admitted to playing at it, and she thought I was serious about doing something about it? No. But she said she wasn't fucking around."
"What did the therapist do?"
"They moved my medication around. Adjusted one, changed another one out. It slowly went away. Your turn. You... practice any?"
I sighed.
"Yeah."
"What was practice for... hypothermia like."
I paused.
"I have a giant, old house. I heat it? With a gigantic pot belly stove. The big one, you see in those old one room schoolhouse, turn of the last century photos. I'd sit there, and let the fire slowly die out. Enjoy the cold. Getting past the shivers. I wanted, that peaceful calm feeling."
"What brought you out of that."
"Honestly? Some asshole murdered my fiancee. If they want me dead? They either have to wait, or do it themselves. I'll be damned if I'm doing their job for them."
"You want, what. Revenge. Justice. Something."
"What I really want? And its nothing on you, little one. I just want my Rain back. And no matter what? Its impossible. I don't want you, t---"
"Shh. Its fine. You think I'd be here, if I hadn't of gotten raped? No. I'd have finished college, and ended up probably somewhere else. Definitely, I think, not waiting tables and if I did? Temporary."
We both paused.
"But it did happen. To both of us. So? We're both here. Its just how it is now."
I leaned back, up against pillows on the heavy wooden headboard. I idly stroked her soft hair, and she went back to sleep. I marveled at the little cat asleep on my lap, then fell asleep again myself.
I still haven't decided.
If I really have a soul or not.