SARA: TRAINER #12

Chapter 12

"Here, Mack, drink some more water." Sara offered a glass. I'd been struck with this horrible fever, ever since I came back from that log house. Also, it'd been pouring like mad the past few days. Even though it was early autumn, I found myself freezing cold under the heavy down comforter. I didn't do much more than eat and sleep. Every sip was water was difficult as I trembled, my body shivering, cold and clammy. Yet an unnatural fire still raged through the fibers of my being. I was even off my food. One raw oyster made me sick like hell. All I could eat was this…porridge, that Sara cooked up for me. No salt, no meat, no nothing. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that that porridge what was actually what Nothing tasted like. Blech.

All those days I really didn't have the strength to move around or anything, and the food refused to serve their distraction duty, so I spent much of my day flipping through all the TV channels. I tried not to, but I keep finding myself on the romance movie channel. I never really watched these sorts of shows with Henry, so it was something new. There was always a woman with way too much makeup on her face, who would fall in love with this man with rippling muscles and always toying with a cigarette, trying to act all cool and stuff. They would meet, and slowly get closer to each other. After a while, they would start holding hands. Then, lean in a bit closer to each other. Then, their lips would touch. Then, they would go the bedroom. But then after that the plot would just start to get really boring. After the man and woman were together for about a year or so, they wouldn't do anything different. Same as they always did. They would go to the park every day, and sit on that same park bench that they would go to since they first met. My eyes would start to droop, and I'd begin to think about me.

And that made feel bad. So I would turn off the TV until they weren't so safe anymore, just leaning on each other on that idyllic park bench. The next day, I would turn on the TV again; the same show was on. Now, they were still in the park; but the man and the woman were shouting at each other. The woman was pushing him against the wall, shouting a tirade of insults at him. Wild pokémon gathered around, as did people who didn't have the politeness to ignore them. Later that night, they were back at home, and the arguing continued, and soon went to physical punching and kicking. That whole episode was just that: shouting, hitting, fighting. Part of my body fired up as I watched the man punch her, begging to me "Get out of bed, you little fucker! Show them how powerful you are!" But then another part was like a thick blanket over the fire; it didn't say a word to me. It was so silent, but maybe that's what made it so powerful in my mind. I felt the heavy down blanket fall over me on the bed. After a long night of fighting, the man watched as the woman slowly collapsed, and with all the energy she had left, grabbed her stuff and left out the front door.

And that also made me feel bad. I don't get it. I mean, she's not even a real character. Why'd that pit in my stomach decide to set up shop? Those questions would slowly bring me to a painfully brief slumber. When I would wake, I'd pick where I'd left off: a frazzled, restless mind, ravaged by thought. I never really got any good rest.

Overall, I was really amazed at how just a few words turned them in an instant from soft-spoken and calm to shouting maniacally. Like when the guy said "Yes, I had an affair with her." To the woman. Boy, she went nuts. Stuff went flying at him: books, wilted flowers, you name it. Words mean things—that's what I know. Why did those things the guy said make the woman shout like that? I never really thought much about it then, however. My fever was starting to climb again near the end of the program, when the guy had just married the girl he had had the affair with and they'd gone to the bedroom after the ceremony. I suddenly felt like Liberating someone, in my hot, flushed state. That was strange.

I turned the TV off, and tried to fall asleep as quickly as I could so I wouldn't be sinking again.

Henry?

"Yes, Mack?"

Why is water coming out of that woman's eyes?

"Because she's crying, Mack. All pokémon cry, as well as humans."

Why is she crying?

"See that concrete box over there? Inside that box is the body of her son."

Her son died?

"Yes. He was always up to mischief, mind you, before he died. I know his family in Undella Town quite well, actually. The son never listened to his father or mother, always wanted to go do bad stuff in town. He was a real headache for the police, y'know.

"But then the narcotic Berries got the better of him, and he's spent the past few years a degenerate addict. His father quickly disowned him and moved to Mistralton.

"But all this time, his mom stayed by his side, even gave him cash support for his rehab. But once he hooked, he was always hooked. Spent all that clean money on more hard drugs.

"Finally, a guy who he owed a lot of money came to his home at night and stabbed him 20-something times. It was a sight to see when the police found him, so I've heard. But…that's why the woman is crying."

But why is she crying? Everyone should be happy, now that a bad person is dead.

"I don't get it myself either, Mack. Something called 'love', as they say."

I don't get love.

"Neither do I. Come on. Let us laugh and celebrate together, now that the bad person is dead."

HAHAHA!

Sleeping was a perfect escape: all of sudden, the weight of sickness was lifted off my shoulders, and I could be free. Sometimes, like this time round, I'd even be quietly laughing when I woke, from the dream I'd just had. But every night, I was always sure to meet the young oshawott, snuggling on the soft hearth rug, beaming with a smile across his face. I'd see Oscar, his Floatzel, Victoria, and Matt. They scared me at first, but when I reached to touch them they were just putty in my hands. I molded them into a shape, my claws scratching effortlessly into the malleable surface. You would hear their cries of pain, but then you could silence them by sealing the mouth. You would see their bodies flailing and struggling, but then you could stop them by opening their chest and molding their heart into an indistinguishable form that could not beat anymore. And soon you had this lump of homogenous goo, engineered from the bewilderingly intricate machinery of complex monsters. It was perfect.

Then, I'd see the ocean at Undella Town. The blue, cascading waves; perfect, crystal blue sky; and sitting casually in the soft sand. I love the beach. The sun would bake me to a near crisp, and the cool, refreshing water quickly offered me respite. Sometimes when I shuck an oyster, I swear I'll smell the musk of Henry, right there, sitting on the beach.

I didn't follow any schedule during those weeks. At one point, I woke around 4am, greeted by the dim moonlight and the icy chill of fever. My eyes popped as wide open as they could, and they saw…a blush-black. I was delirious: the panting, the dark surroundings, the rampant shivering—there was only one explanation. Fear made me shake even more as I thought of it.

"I'm sinking! I'm sinking! Help me! Don't kill me now!" I remembered the wonderful times I had at the oceanside; I was slowly drowning in my pleasure, I was sure of it. I felt myself go deeper…deeper…deeper…eventually I'd reach the floor. Where the bottom-feeding oysters would seek nourishment from my carcass. How ironic. This life must be killing me.

"Mack! What is it? Are you okay?" Sara turned on the light, and all those thoughts fizzled away. I was Mack, a samurott who was very much alive, in a human-made house, with a young female trainer: Sara. "Aww we're not feeling real well at all today, are we?"

"Samu…" I whimpered.

"Come, I'll get my raincoat, then I'll take you to the pokémon center, okay?"

(Stay tuned, there's more to come...)