Cherished Nightmares

by Kuukikyu

Summary:

I was never worthy even to save Him. I see it now, walking in those cold dark streets. But if in my last dream I could just see Him, then I could never regret giving everything for it.

Chapter 1: Vivid dream

On this cold day, on the bottom of a hill I didn't know the name of, sitting alone on the shore of a see I didn't bother to look up, was the ending of my life.
It is not a life anyone would miss, not even me. That's why I was here after all.
Me, an old girl who wanted to be forgotten by all so bad until it finally happened, and I was left alone with the consequences of my own desires. But yet again, there was a reason why I wanted this.

 

If love changes you then I suppose that it makes sense that I've stayed the exact same person for the past decades. Childish, mildly annoying, filled with an impossible standard for my fellow humans while excusing each of my own defaults. I could blame myself for a whole life time and still repeating the same mistakes again and again as if I never learned.
This is how, growing up lonely, I was the target of a very effective but deadly propaganda : fiction.

Everything I ever wanted was either on the other side of a screen or on a block of papers.
Knowingly, I would yearn for what couldn't have.
Or rather, I did everything to convince myself that the lack of it around me was a reality of this world, not another proof of my worthlessness.
What I saw... What I wanted... Was love.

Watching those groups of friends helping each other, doing all those things together, being close even when things were difficult... I was deluded into thinking it was an actual thing. So as long as I remember, I would try to recreate what I saw, playing my role, trying to make people love me. Being that main character everyone loved on TV…
I was finally ready to put it all behind.

 

I emptied my pockets, laying my wallet nearby. At first I wanted to simply disappear but I guess that it would be mean to fill tourists head with the fear of traveling here if people start speculating on my disappearance. Like a cat wanting to be alone to die, I ran away without a word, choosing an unfamiliar country to close the book. A stupid, stupid book.
I watched the sun setting, barely registering the situation, I rehearsed this moment for years after all, only now did I finally accepted my defeat.

 

Despite everything, I would always force myself to be naive, despite everything I would keep make believe that it would happen someday, that I would find Love. Not that it changed... I just know now that I can no longer be the kind if person worthy of it. All this abuse, the pain, the solitude, the betrayals... If I was a jar of colored sand, that disturbed part of me would make most of it. And even more so, I couldn't help but add more of that sand myself. Repeating what I was taught just to cut the grass before it would be cut under my feet.
I was old now, well past my thirties. I learned from many experiences, from many people and places. I was wise now but in away I wished I wasn't.
The wisdom to know that from the start, all those people were right.

That's what they keep saying everywhere: that I shouldn't disturb people with my stupid feelings. "You should have a therapist to tell you that your feelings are valid, maybe then you'll accept yourself. I'm sure that they could teach you a way to forget everything that ever happened and start anew. They'll listen better than me, they're paid for it after all." was the general consensus. And I always was too stubborn to hear it.

The truth is that I felt as I was already understanding everything, I would explain everyone's actions, forgive them, separate their shortcomings with my own existence,...
I would review everything that happened with logic and detachment.
But in the end it didn't change the fact that I just couldn't trust anymore.
Am I really stupid enough to see all those points and believe that I wasn't the one drawing them ?
I know… I know perfectly well that something is wrong with me… And trying to correct it for so long erased any real personality I might have had.

I could only pretend now and let people hurt me knowingly, hoping that for some reason it would go differently this time. I was hopping that someone would see me, that finally someone would understand what is inside but all I could do was detaching myself from my own feelings and smile blankly.
I wanted to make them happy. That's what I was supposed to do, to be liked.

Someday I felt beyond repair. Was is gradual or sudden ? I can't even remember.
I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't want anything.
And still, over and over again, the same few outcomes would reach each of my relationships.
That's what tend to happen when you grow up without real attachment to anything or anyone.

No one ever knows you for long enough to see your true face, and the layers they would have to peel in the short time you are given, are too bothersome, numerous, embarrassing for them to attempt. They tell you goodbye as a mere classmate, no matter how deeply you felt for them. And yet, you are well trained to simply shrug and let them go.
I saw life around me as a lake where I was the one thing that seemed to drift away without purpose. Already too far from the insects on the shore, and floating insignificantly out of reach of any fish from the deep water.

 

Feeling my fingers finally starting to tremble made me sigh and reach into my backpack. I took out an old and thorn book and rest it on my lap to read it one last time. Not the full story but only the parts where He would appear. I knew them all perfectly but reading them again made my daydreams a little clearer. I guess that out of every characters I would play with in my head, this was the one I grew attached to the most. Over the years curiosity grew into fascination, then into attachment, and in the end He became a part of me, like a piece of furniture in my home. For so long I wished to turn him into more than just a doll. I was such a lonely creature. I couldn't help but seeing him as a friend I was desperately trying to win over.
I would study him, reading psychological analysis, searching people who went through similar situations to listen their perspective, scrutinizing each place he stayed at to imagine how he would have seen the world.
I was trying to understand Him so perfectly that it would allow me to replicate Him, to build Him in my mind, to be able to hear His words and opinion as they were really His and not just what I wanted to hear.

I knew how negative the impact of this delusions had on my psyche but if I was fated to lose everything to insanity, I was happy that it would be for Him.
Things seemed less and less important, the future scarier and emptier... There was nothing to hold on... Beside Him.
I slept with the book next to my head. I would talk to Him, imagine meeting Him again and again.
But the story could never reach a conclusion, I would always get lost between the mazes of His tragic life and the romantic desires I could not allow myself to fulfill.
He was a tortured character, losing himself to keep holding on hope and I wanted to be the person to save Him, to give Him what I would only admit to believe in secret, he really desired : Love.
Weren't we just the same?
Wouldn't we be able to understand each other more than anyone could?

 

No... I know...
If he was real, I would be his deepest nightmare. An obsessed stranger claiming to know him without even sharing a single word.
I would have hated myself if I did this to me. There is nothing worse in the world that being looked through so intensely just to not being seen at all. Being misunderstood by the only people who care...

What else could I have given him?
I looked around the leftovers of my life; alone and ready to die.
None of it would have mattered anyway, not coming from something like me...
If only... If only I could give my life to save his. This life nobody wanted me to have... The one I wasted from the start… He deserved to have the chance to try it instead.
If only he could have a few more years. Maybe... Maybe then... He could find happiness.
In my last moments I only wanted to feel like something about me could have been needed, like I could have served someone, like my life, as pointless as it was led to someone's happiness. The happiness of the person I loved the most in my life.

My last words escaped in a trembling sob, comforting myself... Deluding myself one last time. If only instead of ending this life I could give it to him... If only I could give him everything... So everything I was would have been for something.

A foreign presence echoed in my brain.
It wasn't a voice, but I heard it as a thought. A thought that was not coming from me.
The odd sensation made my head ache and as I lifted my gaze in surprise, I saw where the echo came from.

 

It was a light, a red light.
At first, the red sun setting behind it made me feel like I saw double, until I noticed the light being way closer.
I propelled myself back, crawling away from the approaching sphere.
In shock by the sight alone, the thought echoing in my mind took some time for me to understand.

 

"Would you? Would you give your life?"
My life...
"Would you save him?"
I stayed in shock for a moment, between curiosity, fear and a blank state of disbelief.
"-W... What?
- Would you give your life to save him?
-... Him... Silas?"

 

I knelt closer to the ball of light.
The self-delusion worked a little bit too well maybe.
But at this point why not indulge in it? I already decided to lose it all.
If somehow… Any of this could be real then of course…
"- Of course! If I can do this. If there is a way. Then I'll do anything to save Him!"

 

The next instant I was standing in an empty city's street.
The night came unnaturally. The place was totally different.
I was afraid to hope but this seemed so real.
Have I really lost it?
It really did look like Paris... It really did look like the time of night when the story starts.
Where and when that character I cherished for so long made his first entrance.

 

Everything seemed like a dream, even though I was simply walking the streets of a city just like those I used to live in, in a darkness I was familiar with.
But how I appeared there, how nothing made sense anymore... It made me feel out of time.
And if this was all true, I was.

 

I kept asking myself how any of this was possible.
How?
How?
And why?
I asked for so many years, this same wish. Back when I was younger and prettier, back when I still had hopes and things I desired to achieve.
But it's only now that fate decides to manifest it's magic? When all that could have been desired in me was gone.
How cruel.
I walked a few streets before I could see the light of la tour Eiffel shine between the roof tops.

Come on, stupid. Don't get excited now... That thing was obviously some kind of evil entity preying on your soul or something. Tricking you into a dream to easily drag you into hell.
Lucky it... I don't care much about those things anymore...
If I have to burn for eternity, it would just be the consequences of my own actions...
And who am I to protest it ?
But if somehow what it said was true... Then for my last dream, I'll be able to see Him.

Even if He never was anything but a clump of words in a book... I ended up so deeply entangled with His lines.
When there was no one else. When I was so lonely I couldn't even talk to myself anymore... I would see Him there.
I would imagine Him around. In town maybe… Alive somewhere where I could catch a glimpse of Him. I would talk to Him. Show Him things and places.
I knew that He was never there of course. And I knew that there was nothing good about acting this way... But I couldn't help it.
I couldn't just give up on living.
I couldn't force myself to give up on hope, no matter how many time I tried to talk myself into it.

Being with Him reminded me how life could have been if I had someone with me.
I could see it. Even if it was not real.
I could feel it.
I would move my arms as to take Him in them. I would turn around to smile at Him.

Sadly my thoughts grew darker with age and forcing Him to tolerate me again and again felt so painfully wrong. I loved him too much and hated myself equally the same.
That's how I ended up convincing myself this time.
I was left alone, even in my head.
But I wanted so much to be able to repay Him for using Him as a friend.
I wanted so much to save Him like He kept saving me for so many years.
If I can do it now. If I can do anything, then my love wouldn't have been pointless.
My life wouldn't have been pointless.

 

If only giving my life away would have been enough. But I understand why my pathetic life wouldn't have worth His. How could I call this a sacrifice when I didn't even want it in the first place ?
But the idea that it would be up to me to save Him was filling me with dread...
That must be the trap… That's why I was given this chance.
After all... All this could be is the purgatory...

I wished for this, I wanted it for so long... But me? I... I don't want Silas to ever see me... To ever know that... That I stalked Him through a book, that I obsessed over Him, that I pretended to know Him, that even now I was claiming being able to save Him. What a joke...
If He knew of me... He would hate me.
And I know it. Those words I repeated them so many times.
He would hate me.

 

What am I to even lay my eyes on Him ?
If no one ever could find a way to love me...
Then how dared I interfere with His world. How dared I insert myself in this story... Just... For my stupid, selfish feelings...
What am I doing?
I stopped finally, trying to find any excuse, anything that would justify me showing up here.
I can't save Him. And even if I do... His fate would only be worse. There is no way He could escape what He did tonight…
And He would have to live for the remaining of the years I would force unto him, knowing that He was manipulated by someone He looked up to and that His only friend He felt indebted to, the one who saved His life and made Him who He is when He was nothing but a ghost… Was gravely hurt by His actions. And was certainly ashamed to be related to Him in any ways after everything that happened.
At least, in the story, He got to die with hope and prayers for better...
Wouldn't I just throw him into despair?
Forcing Him to face another prison sentence, to relive the feeling of growing hollow in a stone cell, exposed to all to hate and break…
Just for my selfish desire to have Him around?
To be His hero?
I won't even find Him in this city...
I don't even remember the details of this book I held almost every nights...
All I really cared for was Him...
I really am just a gross person.

 

I focused on the street names.
I didn't know the layout of the city. I've barely been here once a long, long time ago.
I suppose that it would be a bad idea to try to find Him in the Louvre, the first place he appears in the book. Where He's supposedly right now.
My best chance is the Opus Dei residential building somewhere on a street called… Rue la Bruyère ? Or maybe De la Bruyère ?
What is even a bruyère…?

 

I suppose that it must be somewhere in the center…
I did saw a picture of it on google in my quest to understand Silas more.
Though I never found out if the building mentioned on that street was real or if that one was made up for the plot.

I searched for a pharmacy, trying to have a more precise reading of the time.
Silas should come back rue La Bruyère around the end of the eleventh hour, right?
The digital clock was displaying 11:17.
I should be able to find it before it's too late, if it's anywhere around.
It would be hard to mistake it for another, that street has very similar yellowish grey color and architecture for each of the buildings along, all in a perfect straight line.
But yet again it's one of the rare Paris streets I can still picture in my head, maybe all of them are…
I look around, studying the gray cement all around me. This must not be a very touristic street, certainly far enough from where I wanna be…
Don't they have maps for tourists in the streets?
I'm not sure that French people are kind enough to give this pleasure to foreigners, especially back then...

I felt so deeply for that man I've read about, that I learned to despise people that did not exist as well.
I was so heartbroken at the suffering Silas went through in France, the country he was born in.
The unfairness of his childhood, lost alone in the streets of Marseilles...
I couldn't help it but feel sour thinking about this place. No matter what went through the author's head to write it this way… I couldn't help but link their cynical lack of charity, their disgust even to those that did non belong to their circle, to what I remember from my own days.

I was a loner here, almost all my life.
Not France itself but in a neighboring French speaking country.
I don't think it was due to me not being born there.
I can't deny that I was a strange child that strangers didn't want to waste their lives on.
I suppose that it's fair...
But watching other children have this whole… Thing around them.
Their family, their friends, the people they knew in their streets, their uncles knowing their teachers, their boss being their grand-father's second cousin or something…
When I was just me, fighting for myself when all I'd receive from others were odd glances or a tired sympathy.

Out of everyone. Out of every readers who genuinely cared for Silas.
All the people who certainly dreamed of saving Him just as I did, and I know there are many of them…
How sad... That I was the one to appear here.
I could never fit anywhere and yet I wanted Him to fix my loneliness. I wanted Him to love me... Isn't that what I really wanted?
Wanting to be saved by someone who needed way more help that I did... How typical of me...
Always blaming others when in the end I'm the most pathetic person there is.
How did I twisted it in my mind to convince myself even for a moment that he would have been even my friend?
He couldn't love me. He couldn't even like me.

How can I cry over this sorry monologue when I know myself ?
I know I didn't come here just to selflessly save His life.
I know that I wanted Him to see me...
I know that I'm not a good person.
That's why I never had anyone but my dreams of Him.
Am I not everything He's against?
A selfish woman, not belonging to the Church, not dressing modestly, lacking any discipline, overweight, stupid,… and wanting him.
WANTING him.

Come on, focus !
It's a life or death situation and all you can do is thinking about yourself.
As always…
You gave your life to SAVE HIM so stop thinking about anything else !
Watch the street names and stay silent !
How can you possibly focus with this constant brouhaha ?!
And why is it Paris ?! This city is huge !
And it was way fuller of people than I imagined it to be in the middle of the night.

Those people… They were all real.
Minding their own business, having a life, outside of a story.
I caught myself wondering if they could even see me, if I'm a real person down here too...
What are the logistics of this ?
How can this be real if it's the real city but with that story really happening along ?
How can I be decades in the past with my old body ?
How could people who never existed be in a world that acts as it they were always there ?
How could it be? What kind of magic could do this?
Is this another universe? Another timeline? Is this all really just a dream? Am I some sort of ghost of the future ?
I watched a stranger walking from the opposite direction.
There was nothing blurry about his face. His expression seemed natural. He dressed perfectly normally.
I slowed down my steps, staring far more than necessary before his gaze lifted towards me, his mouth pouting slightly.
"- Je n'ai pas d'argent. (I have no money.)"

I managed to grimace a smile before running away.
Only allowing myself a walking pace after turning several corners.
My cheeks still burning from shame I made sure to avoid looking at anyone else.
They do see me. I am right here.
I am real in this real world.

 

Oh I think I found it.
I re-read the street sign. Rue la Bruyère. It's here right?
It looks like it too. I recognized the old window shutter that decorated most of smaller windows and the antique looking reliefs ornamenting the walls.
I stood at the edge, afraid to come in to this obvious place of interest. As if people could read my intentions.

I could feel the fear, a real fear, not shyness or embarrassment.
The fear of actually meeting Him.
I knew already what He would feel about me.
I knew that I could never be the kind of person that could ever be loved.
But... He is the last one I wanted to hope for.
Once... Once he knows me, once I see his face turn away in disgust, once I see him stare at me with disappointment... What will I have left? What will I have at all...

I know that it was already all lost.
I know that I gave up on all there is in the world.
On seeing pumpkins growing in somebody's garden, petting wild cats I'd meet in the evening, on the nice smell in the air after an autumn rain, the stars, the music,... Everything.
And still I wanted to hope.
Still I had the guts to demand to keep my naivety.
Still I wanted to believe deep down that perhaps, maybe, somehow… He could have loved me.
That he could see me as useful and kind. Cute maybe, worth listening to... I wanted to be His.
I wanted to keep pretending until the end... That He would have wanted to save me like I wanted to save Him.
After everything… This hope, this stupid hope, I couldn't bring myself to give it away.

What am I even trying?
I can't just run to Him, blabbing something about what I've read in a book.
"You can't do what he tells you! He's lying!
How do I know?
I just know... I can't prove it but...
Who am I? I'm just..."
I doubt that He would listen... He might even get angry... What would He do then?
It's not like I would be the first person He'd murder tonight…
And deep down I felt like dying of His hands would be the best outcome for this egocentric wish.
But… I suppose that if he kills me... I won't be able to save him...

I forced myself into the street, digging my nails into my skin.
I don't need to do anything right about now.
I just wanna know if He exists, if I am really in the same world as Him…
Isn't that what you want ? Even if you could never talk to Him... Don't you want to breathe the same air as Him ? Don't you want to set your eyes on the same objects He did?
Don't you love Him more than anything in this world? In any world ?

I took the time to examine each building.
It must be large enough to have at least several rooms in it and I think that the text said the building to be kind of rich looking.
Would they state their occupation on the door?
My guts were twisting inside of me. I almost felt ill.
I was holding my hands in front of me, shielding myself as much as I could. If only I was really a ghost. If only I could not be seen...
Even if I'm just a stranger... Even if He'd only gaze at me mindlessly as He would at anyone else…
I can't... I can't endure the way He'd look at me.
Forever, forever, people seemed to understand my existence as some kind of unique evil. A stain. A hopeless case that could only destroy itself if giving the time.
And in the end, they were right, weren't they ?
Why would He feel different ?
You know this. You feel it all inside you.
So why are you still afraid ?
As if there was still a chance…

I can't give up on Him just because He will hate me.
I can't run away just because I would bleed my last drops.
That's what the deal was from the start.

 

If… If it can help you, you can just pretend.
Yes, like you always did.
I never doubted that he would despise me... And it never stopped me from making Him say whatever I wanted... And I can keep doing just that.
Even if He yells, I can just not hear him. If He hits me then... Then I'll just do better...
I don't think He'd do that... He doesn't want to hurt anyone... Not without reason. I know it... Even me...
The worst kind of person... I'm sure that He'll just ignore me.
And I can keep pretending that He never saw me in the first place…

Talking about murders...
What should I do about the prison issue?
From the start of the book, He's already killed 3 people, tonight.
If the fourth one isn't dead yet, he must be emptying himself on the floor as I walk here...
Would He be able to escape if I somehow manage to stop Him now ?
That's a lot of potential evidences. And I doubt that having the main protagonist conveniently framed for His murders would work in court for long.
If it wasn't for that spiteful detective who was just as conveniently, a member of the same religious group as Silas, Robert, the main character would have never been even bothered, I'm sure.
Is it really possible for Silas to flee the country and hide for the rest of His life like He imagined doing, once the work done ?
How could He fly back to New York once suspected ? And how could He afford to before His benefactor catch wind of what is going on ?
Those happen almost simultaneously…
Would He really be okay with being on the run, once again in the same country that hurt him so much in the past ? Hiding alone, terrified to pull His respected friend down with Him…
As long as He stays alive then there is a chance !

 

... I guess that it's wrong to go so far to save a murderer and not his victims...
But it's not like He's doing that for His own sake…
He was so perfectly malleable.
The perfect target for the mastermind of this plot.
If that man wouldn't have thrown a fake lifeline to the fallen bishop, if the said bishop wouldn't have used Silas' loyalty to infect Him with the same blinded trust, if Silas wasn't so starved to be someone…
He wouldn't have hurt a single person until the end of His natural life.
He tried so much to be a good person.
He did so much for the hope of being loved.

So I think that I have the right to care for Him alone.
They could have had their own extra-dimensional saviors after all !
That's right... All I want... All I have to focus on... Is to give him a chance to be truly happy once, just once in this cruel life of His.
As long as I can give him a little more time…
Then!
An imaged flashed before my eyes, interrupting my thoughts, my fist still in the air, as someone very tall passed right next to me.
Taking a few second until the person was completely behind me, I slowly turned, just enough to see his silhouette.
A long dark monk attire, white hair escaping the hood that falls on his broad shoulders...
Here, at this time... It can only be Him.
Silas!

Chapter 2: What good am I to this world?

I could afford only another look before "discretely" sprinting to the opposite side of the street and hiding myself behind the wall.
Oh my God it's HIM !!!
I can't believe it !!! Oh NO !!!
It's the best day- NO !
It's the worst day of my life !!!
This is way too real !!! It's really Him !
I can't believe it !
It's crazy !!! Isn't it crazy ?
It's super crazy !!!
Oh my God NOOOO !!!!!

My face burning hot and my hands already sweaty, I peeked carefully from my hiding spot.
The tall figure was walking decisively, his robe dancing with each step.
It's Him !!! It's really Him !
He's right there !
What do I do now ? Why did I do this??
How could I think I would be able to witness Him ?!

 

My heart was racing but I had to know what building he was heading for ! With a crazed stare I followed the shape, unable to process any detail of it.
I felt like my whole body was bursting into a gruesome explosion of ecstasy and terror.
I could barely move, I felt too overwhelmed to keep looking despite my head strongly pressed against the cold wall.
Giving up on my simple task, I knelt on the floor in an effort to settle my feelings down.
I... I'll find him after he goes out again.
Yes... I need to think of a plan anyway and then…
I felt panic gripping my throat before I even formulated the world "talk" in my head.
Shame came to mix up with my already fevered emotions, pressing all joy I might have felt at this moment out of me like of a tube of toothpaste.
No no no. I can't let him see me ! I can't just talk to Him !
What am I doing ?!
How could I have convinced myself that I could help in any way ?
I can't even look at him !
But if I can't do anything… He will die.
He WILL die.
I heard a door opening and closing in the distance. It was quiet but in the middle of the night it's the only thing I could hear above my heartbeats.
Do it ! Get up NOW !
Driven by a stronger impulse than my surface thinking I jumped back on my feet.

My arms crossed across my chest, covering as much as I could… of me… My face bent towards the pavement, my eyes twisted upright… I walked decisively towards the faint noise I've heard. For a moment, no thoughts dared disturb my sight, jumping from building to building.
A light caught my attention, switching on from the second floor of what must be the Opus Dei residence.

My eyes hurt a little, trying to catch the sight without turning my head towards it, I walked slowly to the other side of the road, giving myself a better view of the inside.
A shadow approached the blinds before closing them in a dry movement.
Nervously I feigned looking through my pockets, trying to look innocently normal.
After a minute or two I finally convinced myself that He wouldn't be at the window anymore.
My mind finally releasing me, I suddenly felt drowning in fatigue.
Unable to feel another once of panic, I carelessly came to rest against the building opposed to his.

Now came the sounds of the world again. It was not as empty as I thought a second ago. I am just a tourist among all others.
No I can pretend that I'm a local. I speak French after all.
Maybe I live here. Yeah I just came out to walk and forgot my keys, or something of the sort.
Who could think that I came here for Him.
He couldn't.
I felt my breathing calming down to a normal pace.
I am not the protagonist of this world.
No one will ever know anything about me.

Now freely staring at the window where the light could only partially escape from, I caught myself waiting longingly to see His shadow appear again at the window.
How can I always feel so sorry for myself when you had to go through all this. When you're about to go through so much more...
And I... Have all my dying wishes coming true.
The person I love.
Here in front of me.
I can save Him.
I can give my life for Him.

Feeling a little off now, I walked out of the street, trying to focus on my mission.
The plot of the story was simple enough, the popularity of the book laid mostly in it's mystical themes and it's alleged real life implications, what mattered little to me, especially at this instant.

 

Living so long apart from humanity made me unable to understand the importance of lineage no matter how important a person might be.
What a sad concept, isn't it ?
So many people feel so much belonging and pride towards the descendants they had the chance to know and so many feel the same towards their predecessors, even long gone.
It was hard not to feel jealousy listening to people expressing so much love towards their parents. I wish I could love the one parent I had. Not that I didn't do my best to love her, my whole life.
Forgiving everything, searching excuses, smiling and comforting her, even when I felt like breaking.

But the line was so thin.
At any moment, I could remember her hands on my throat.
"I will kill you" she would scream.
The fear of her attacks gripped at me sometimes even when talking to strangers.
I only needed a change in tone, an annoyed look, disappointment, to unconsciously clench my fists, to hide in the basement of my mind, detaching myself, staring blankly in a polite forced smile until it was over.
Even aging could never cure my fear.

 

I remembered vividly every parts of my childhood and often those memories took great pleasure in locking me in them.
I didn't know back then how much I was suffering.
I wasn't thinking that being hit was wrong. I would brag about my cunning plans to sleepover at my neighbors apartment when she would throw me outside at night, saying she didn't want to see me again. I would cleverly remove some rice from under my knees when she would look away during my punishments, I would leave without saying anything, playing alone in nearby fields, imagining another life.
Even back then, before we moved to another country, I would dream of dying and being born again in a happier world among my favorite cartoon characters. And still I have such melancholy for that time, for before I was awake to the world. When my long visits at the hospital were fun adventures, when staying alone for hours at home was just mildly boring, when I still believed that everyone liked me, when I could just be me, despite everything.

More I understood the world around me and more meek, afraid, I grew. No matter what I would try, no matter how I'd act, I could never shake the feeling that they were all right, that I shouldn't be here. That I should have died long ago. And there was nothing I could do to absolve myself from my own existence.

If only I was allowed to love, if only I would not be punished for it. Betrayed, abandoned, laughed at, hit,…
That's what I deserved for begging so much for something so out of my reach.

But… But I can do something now… Something to pay for this love I feel.
If I save Him... Even if I have to be butchered afterward…
Then maybe He could feel slightly less disgusted by my sticky feelings.
then my love would serve for something, something I would have no part in. Just an action before leaving.
Giving it without asking for anything in return. Giving it without bothering Him with it. There can't be any contract, any attaches He might fear, if I'm gone.

I stopped in a small impasse, sitting down on some old stairs to recall a thousandth time the exact scenario I needed to scratch at.
Again and again, until I could somehow find a perfect solution.

Now that Silas killed those guardians, or whatever fancy word was used for them, He will tell that disgusting old man about the Church where the relic they're looking for is.
After that, He will leave and drive there after the old man used Aringarosa to get the doors opened for Him.
Silas will then lose it after discovering the guardians He killed lied and it was a red herring all along.
Then that stupid nun will go run her mouth and... Uhm…
I definitely have to do something before he goes there...
I HAVE to stop Him before He gets himself into deeper troubles… But...
My body feels feverish now.
My hands try desperately to stop me from shaking uncontrollably.
I'm… I'm not mentally prepared for this…
I let my eyes flood out of frustration, sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of acting NOW on something I needed to be so perfect for.
He will come back to His room afterward but by then... Whatever I might say will just make everything worse...
Would He really believe me at any point ?
Wouldn't I just sound like another enemy who tries to hide the relic ?
But if He kills the nun then He WILL be caught no matter what else I do.
It's His friend, the Bishop who called in, using his name to force Silas in through a third party that would know exactly who to blame if anything happens in that Church.

 

But if I manage to lure Him away from there… If I can lie well enough to make Him believe that it's pointless to keep searching the relic… Somehow…
If it's me who He kills, somewhere where no one could see…

I curled up to the wall siding me, my head under my arms, trying to erase the pain surfacing from my worthless heart.
Hate… I know it would be hate I'd see in His eyes.
How could it be different ?
Why would I want it to be different ?
How could I ask Him to see me in any other way…
It's the best plan, isn't it ? It's the best plan.
It is.

When He leaved His room in the residence once again, I won't be able to save him any more.
The last part of the story is taking place in England. And as easy it seems for the main characters to hop in the private jet of their eccentric host, I will be stuck here, waiting for the end.

Whatever I do, I need to do it now.
Stop crying and lamenting like a wounded animal.
You're here to save Him.
You're just a tool, nothing else.
You asked for this.

I dig into my pockets.
Of course I left everything that matters back on that shore.
But would I had it better with my modern items here? Nobody would take seriously my cards from more than twenty years into the future.
All I had now was a small marron I picked up when leaving my hometown a day ago, my last bus ticket, the one I used to get to that shore, some lint and a single euro coin.
But a two euros single coin !
I'm quite rich after all.
I couldn't help but smile weakly under the wet mixture of snot and tears covering my round face.

Breaking slightly from my dark thought, a rush of ideas pirouetted inside my brain.
I could maybe leave a note on his car!
But it's the middle of the night, I won't be able to find anything to write on and even if I find an opened store selling paper and pens after midnight, with two euros I couldn't afford much.
I could use a rock, it's a matter of life and death after all and that car belongs to the stupid old man anyway.
But if I start vandalizing stuff in the middle of the street, the police will take me away...
Oh the police!
Should I make a call?
They still have public phones in this time, don't they ?
I look around me, feeling helplessly lost.

When is Silas supposed to leave?
He must arrive at that Church at 2am, doesn't he?
I still have some time but… If I get lost I won't be able to do anything...
But if I do nothing, the story will only go one way.
It's my only time to act, my only chance !

 

I ran towards the part of the sky that seemed to be the brightest, trying to find bigger streets where I would have more chances finding what I need.
The sidewalks were full here. So many people. A lot of students, people coming and going out of bars. Smoking, laughing… So unbothered…
None of them would have saved Him. None of them would have cared for Him. This country left Him suffer His whole life.
I pushed away my uncalled-for pessimistic speech about how nobody cares about anyone anyway and how I myself left many people suffer our of anxiety towards my own life.
This is a story, a book. This world exists only for the author to express what he wanted on a scene that anyone could relate to.
What other purpose might they have here besides framing those specific events.
I wonder… If the author is then this world's God.
Wouldn't it be funny ?
That the God Silas pray so much to is the person who created Him just to die. Just to suffer and die.
He was called for a higher mission after all, just like Aringarosa made Him believe. His suffering was not in vain, just like He hoped.
He was created to be an obstacle for the heroes and die at the end, understanding His errors, accepting that He was nothing at the end…
What a cruel God that is…
All authors are cruel Gods. There will be always one of their creation that was born to be hated, to be defeated, humiliated and killed.

A phone!
On the side of what looked like an open night shop, was an old silver pay phone.
There was a little plastic roof above it. It had burn damages and the floor underneath was covered with old gums and a couple of cigarette buds.
I had to fight the double embarrassment of calling the police for a case of "I know what will happen in the future, trust me" and for talking out loud about it on a busy street.

A few people would occasionally get in and out of the shop, glancing at me passively as I tried to understand how to make the phone work.
I entered my coin before remembering that emergency numbers are free. What is quite nice seeing the price it asked for a minute...

 

"- Allô?
- Bonjour madame, puis-je vous demander quel est le lieu de l'urgence et si il y a besoins d'une embulance ou des pompiers.
(Hello madam, can I ask you the location of the emergency and if you need an ambulance or the service of firefighters.)
- Euh bonjour, je suis là pour euh reporter un criminel.
(Uh hello, I am here to report a criminal.)"

My French got so bad spending all my time writing, reading and thinking in English... Even though I spoke that language for more than 20 years, it felt so foreign between my lips.
A little shocked at myself, I let an awkward pause make the receptionist react with exasperation.

- Un criminel ? Madame, ici c'est la ligne d'urgence. Il y a t'il un crime comis en ce moment même ou quelqu'un en danger immédiat ?
( A criminal ? Madam, this is the emergency line. Is there a crime being commited right now or someone in immediate danger ?)
- Ou.. Oui ! Un home, uhm son nom c'est Leigh.... Euhm... Oh Zut... C'est un sir. Uhm. C'est un chevalier de la reine d'Angleterre.
(Y…Yes ! A man, his name is Leigh.… Uhm… Oh shoot… It's a sir. Uhm. A knight of the queen of England.)
- Madame, madame, attendez. Que ce passe t'il en ce moment ? Quelle est l'urgence ?
(Madam, madam, wait. What is happening right now ? What is the emergency ?)
- Il va kidnapped quelqu'un et uh il complote pour-
(He will kidnap someone and he's plotting to-)
- Voyez vous quelqu'un se faire kidnapper en ce moment ?
(Do you see someone getting kidnapped in this moment ?)
- Non non mais...
(No no but…)
- Alors s'il vous plaît, veuillez vous adresser à la ligne correspondante ou à un guichet de la police de quartier pour une enquête.
(Then please, address yourself to the relevant line or at the desk of the district police for an investigation.)
- Mais c'est une urgence ! Ca va arriver ce soir !
(But this is an emergency ! It will happen tonight !)
- Je vais raccrocher, un policier pourra vous aider à nos burreaux.
(I am ending this call, an officer will be able to help you at one of our stations.)
- Mais-
(But-)"
The line was already dead.

 

I punched the phone back against the socket, annoyed at the lack of bother given by professionals.
I took my coin back and analyzed the situation again, between angry and desperate.
There is nothing else I can do... I need to convince the police, somehow.
Of course that stupid woman didn't give me the number I'm supposed to call... But then again, if it's not an emergency line then maybe it's not free to call and I won't be able to explain the situation correctly under the threat of the clock.
I forced myself to not glare angrily at the person approaching to use the payphone after me as I turned around to leave.

That's right, police stations are supposed to be open at all times, right? There should be at least someone in there who would listen.
I could even request to talk to the guy who's on the cases of the murders... He would understand a little better knowing what already happened. And he's a member of the Opus Dei too so it would be in his interest to help me help Silas to avoid tarnishing the reputation of the order !
A feeling of powerlessness washed over me, realizing that I will have to once again, stare at each building, walking through this huge city.
I still felt off about my call...
Not about the answer but about my own attempt.
I have such a stupid voice... An unattractive high pitched voice that made me sound like an old kid. And it was made raspy-er by my stress too...
I hold tightly my hands into each others, embarrassed by myself.

I was never very enthusiast about talking to anyone but I could easily block out my thoughts for a moment to get the job done.
It was always an uncomfortable feeling that greeted me once I was alone with myself again.
No matter the conversation, or the person. I couldn't help but over-analyzing every words I used, my tone, my facial expressions… I always felt like an alien, unable to follow the instructions of human communication.
I could feel the uneasiness the whole time.
The uneasiness of the normal person in front of me, wondering if I could even speak their language.

I accepted that people will always find me weird, annoying, bothersome, laughable...
And it's okay.
It's okay if they do.
Because none of them matter.
I know… That I am a bad person for thinking that.
Narcissistic.
But it's something I grew up internalizing.
I wanted to be liked by everyone. I wanted to befriend everyone. But I couldn't.
I was exhausted of them.
So many new faces. So many things they wanted me to be. Things I just couldn't.
I felt them watching me, grinning or frowning.
So I stopped looking at them.
I wanted to avoid them all once and for all but I still had to perform. Here and there, smiling to the inexistent camera, pretending that I'm brave, that I don't care enough to be worth targeting.
Then to shake away the screams of inadequacy, I would forget everything. I would not remember faces. I would barely look at them.
What a selfish, cold person...
They are right to reject me.
They see who I really am.
Just a mistake nobody wanted. Someone put aside long enough to not being able to fit anywhere.
I could never feel at peace around people and I wish I could.
I tried.
I tried.
It's too late now.
It's all over.

After all this, all I do is thinking about myself again and again.
How ridiculous.
How shameful…
I shouldn't be able to even think at all.
I am here for one thing and that thing only.
I'm giving my life. It doesn't belong to me anymore, it belongs to no one anymore.
It's wasted, it's dead.
And there is nothing more to say.
So stay silent. Just stay silent…

 

I followed an arrow on the corner of the street, indicating the direction of the nearest station, trying to build up my strength to act somewhat normal again.
All I had to do is to swipe away every crumbles in my head. As if I never thought any of this.
Just smile, just play the game.
I know facial expressions well. I can act just as I want.
I've always been good at pretending, and nothing else.

 

There was no one at the reception but a little bell was out to call out further in the building.
Somehow it made it seem just so much more difficult.
I rang it, instinctively putting myself on the side for whoever else might run into the station at this hour.
Through a glass door, I saw a man in a loose uniform climb down some stairs and looking at me with calm eyes while grabbing the handle.
He talked before arriving behind the counter.
- Madame. Que puis-je faire pour vous ?
(Madam. What can I do for you ?)"

I felt so awkward talking to a single person in this official building. I was out of place, even more so now.
"- Bonjo- Uhm Bonsoir. Il y a un problème que j'aimerais reporter.
(Hel- Uhm Good evening. There is a problem I would like to report.)"

The intense look of the officer made me feel even sillier, considering the story I was trying to convey but I have no choice! I shook my head in a brief movement, switching off my thoughts in order to speak.
"- Un home, ici à Paris, complote pour obtenir un object... Une chose précieuse. Il a déjà commandité plusieurs meurtres et il va sûrement kidnapped quelqu'un très bientôt et quitter le pays!
(A man, here in Paris, is plotting to obtain an object… Something precious. He already ordered multiple murders ans will certainly kidnap someone very soon and leave the country !)"

I felt flustered mentioning the murders. Somehow it seemed like betraying Silas. I shouldn't mention anything about him. Getting Him on the police's radar is the last thing I wanna do.
"- Il... Il est avec des fugitifs en ce moment!
(H… Hee's with fugitives right now !)
The police man looked at me unimpressed, trying to gauge if I was under some sort of narcotics.
I blushed under the shame.
Of course it was a very unbelievable story. It is the plot of a novel after all...
Still the man started to write something down, wearing a neutral expression, just doing his job.
"- Avez vous le nom de cette personne et les victimes potentielles?
(Do you have the name of that person and the potential victims ?)
- C'est sir Leigh... T... Oh Teabing c'est Teabing !
(It's sir Leigh… T… Oh Teabing it's Teabing !)
My excitement made my story even more made up.

 

- Et il a fait executer uhm... Quatre personnes...
(And he had uhm… Four people exacuted…)"
I stopped myself a little too late, I almost mentioned the Louvre.
It would certainly help as he would certainly have heard if it happening by now but I was worried now to somehow entangle Silas in his own crimes.
"- Avez vous des preuves ?
(Do you have any proofs ?)"
He asked it casually like just another protocol.
"- N... Non mais si il n'est pas arrêté ce soir il va s'enfuit dans son jet privé et quitter le pays.
(N… No but if he's not stopped tonight, he's gonna escape in his private jet and leave the country.)"
Why should it have been a private jet... This sounds so ridiculous.
I started twitching around, visibly uncomfortable by my fantastical story.
The police man lifted his eyes from the paper he was scribing on. Looked at me like he knew I was just a crazy person. He put the paper on a pile of others and calmly crossed his finger on the counter.
- Merci beaucoup pour votre déposition, nous essayerons de voir ce qu'on peut faire.
(Thank you very much for your statement, we will see what we can do.)"
Certainly a well learned sentence to use on people like me to send them on their way without provoking a scandal.

 

"- S'il vous plait ! C'est très important. Pouvez vous joindre monsieur F... Fachhh... Fache?
(Please ! This is very important. Can you reach mister F… Fachhh… Fache ?
- Je suis désolé mais il se fait très tard, vous devriez rentrer aussi et nous ferons le nécessaire au vue de la situation.
Vous pourrez revenir demain si le problème persiste.
(I am sorry but it's very late, you should go back home as well and we will do what we must to deal with this situation.
You can come back tomorrow if the problem remains.)"

I wanted to protest for a second before displaying a grimace, trying to give a polite smile I didn't have in me, and leaving, my head down.
I lost again.

 

I caught myself in the reflection of the glass door leading to the dark night.

What a disgrace. I did my best to look presentable for my last day on earth and still… My clothes were too small and covered in small pieces of lint. My hair looked a bit dirty after walking on the sea shore. The turtleneck of my dress made me look like I have a double chin whenever I look slightly down. My glasses were so old the paint was peeling off of them. My fingernails were dirty. And I must certainly smell after running around all night…
And I try to pretend that I have any right to do all this…

Dying for Him…
Like I could die for Him.

I wish I could say that.
But the truth is that I died for myself alone.

What a selfish thing to pretend…
That my death could have changed anything for you.
That my existence had mattered at all in your life.

A sacrifice can only accepts a life worth giving away.
A pathetic existence matters to no one.
And I was too eager to give it away.

 

I headed back to the street La Bruyère, so easily defeated.
So weak.
So self-centered…

I watched closely every black cars parked on the street.
One of them must be the one He's driving.
It's an Audi, not that I know what they're supposed to look like.
They have little circles joining each other in a line.
Slowly, my hands behind my back, I inspected each branding, as if wasting time on purpose.

I should just give up. This is all just a dream.
Of course I can't have appeared in the same world as Silas.
Silas doesn't exist. He never has.

You wanted to see Him and you did.
Enough with all this nonsense.
You could never have saved Him even if you were given a lifetime to do so.

That's right… If you really wanted Him to be happy, you'd have went back way before now, you'd have saved Him from the streets, you'd have killed His father for Him, you'd find a way to stop those dock workers from attacking Him, you could have saved Him from prison.
But you know exactly why you're here.
Because you thought that He wouldn't have been Him if He was saved back then, am I right ?
Ha !
You gross, gross person.

My eyes were stuck on my shadow, projected on the floor.
Standing still.
Who am I even pretending for ?
I was never a good person.
Never.

I wanted to die so badly and here I am.
I begged for so long to see him and here he was.
How can I feel any of this then ?
How can I possibly call it pain ?

 

I watched Him step out of the residence.
I was sitting nearby for a while, waiting for Him, apathetic.
As if all my feelings burned up inside of me and all I was filled with now were the ashes.
I got up, painfully. I couldn't feel my feet. My head was spinning around small flashes of light. I could barely stop my eyes from blurring again. It was all like a grotesque carousel.

Do… Do it…
The voice inside my head was so faint.

Catch Him. Now.

He was walking fast, certainly confident in His mission, certainly feeling like He was about to win.

He will die.

Why are you just standing there ?

Don't you want to save Him ?
Did you give up on Him already ?
Ha !
Of course… You're worthless.

Seeing Him walking out of my vision, I let myself fall on the floor, my knees hitting the pavement without any regard.

You coward.

You can just say things… And do nothing.
You can just beg for things and earn none of them.

And what do you want exactly ? To be hold ? To be reassured ?
You stupid disgusting child.
What have you done ever to deserve something like that ?
You're not a poor sad girl.
You're not even remotely a good person.
Why would you get something that so many can't ?

Silas suffered so much. All alone. His whole life.
And is He crying right now ?
Is He limping on the floor with that pathetic face you do ?
No He's fighting for the person He cares about. Someone way better and kinder than you.
He's giving everything to succeed even when everything is crumbling all around Him.

You wished to do everything for Him.
You wished to die for Him.
You wished to kill for Him.
And what did you do ?
You complained to the police…

You have no life to preserve anymore. Your task is so easy.
How can you fuck up so bad and still cry about it ?
You should be smudged on the floor, thorn apart, destroyed until nothing is left…

I should, yet I cry on the floor, making ugly noised and everything…
Haha.

There is really nothing I can do with this worthless love of mine.

Notes:

So I started this as a comic but I was inspired to write it too I guess. It will be kind of long and I want to finish at least one version before I die of old age.
If you're interested, you can find it on Webtoon and Tapas under the same name.
Like it if you like it so I can feel a little less like a fool.
Thank you for reading !