June 29, 2003
Note: I read this. And re-read this. A lot. And I'm still not sure if everything is in the same verb tense. But, I tried. If you find something please tell me because, I don't think it's very nice to read something in different tenses. But, here it is. The next part.
And thanks to Cherry6124 for reviewing, this chapter's for you.
Save Me from the Dark
CONTINUATION
It's like sharp, cold needles falling against my skin. I close my eyes and move my head from side to side. The water is exceptionally cold this morning but it doesn't stop me from taking a long shower. I scrub my skin hard leaving red marks, the nightmare I had earlier now fading from my mind leaving behind only the slightly disconcerted feeling of been watched. I drop the soap on the side, finish rinsing and close the tap. Carefully, I step out and wrap the towel around me. Walking towards the mirror I pick up the brush and look at myself in the mirror.
I can't even recognize myself anymore. Where was the happy girl that used to wake up every morning and sing in the shower? Where was the sweet girl who smiled no matter what and always had a kind word for everyone? Where was that innocence? Where was that hope?
"It ran out." I murmured, answering my own question. "Just like everything else."
I untangle my hair with greater strength and when I finish I throw the brush into the sink. Looking fleetingly at my refection in the mirror with a glare I walk into my room. This is just so stupid.
As I put on my dress I run that sentence over and over in my head. Stupid. Everything is stupid now. Everyone is stupid. That makes me laugh and I stop thinking so morbidly. Anyone with access to my brain would think I'm suicidal. …. I'm not. Really. When I'm done dressing I walk downstairs but don't feel like making breakfast. I continue walking, out the door and towards the cows.
It's not rare that Mr. Ingo is still sleeping. He usually wakes up in time for midday meal. A meal I have to prepare for him, one of the reasons I'm still allowed in the ranch. That and most of the horses only answer to me and I'm the only one the cows allow to milk them. It's easy to let go of your thoughts in this normal routine. I've been doing this for as long as I was allowed, or rather, for as long as it was noticeable that I could be beneficial. With careful precision that can only be borne after long hours of doing the same task again and again; I milk the cows. When I'm done I walk back out and watch the suns early rays.
A few months ago I might've described the way its rays opened through the clouds, or how the colour tones matched or something ridiculously poetic, but now I look at it with the same calculated eyes I watch everything else. How it would've killed my father to see me like this. He might seem like a person who lost his way in life, and in a way, I guess he was, but he was always looking for the best in things. He looked at the glass half full. And I suppose that was his life, a half full glass, it might be half full, but it was still only half. You can't do much with only half of a person.
When I reach the centre of the ranch, I look around and see Epona isn't back. What does surprise me is that Mr. Ingo isn't sleeping. I see him in the ring running a brush through a black horse he favours. Confused, I walk towards him. He stopped doing this years ago. Not daring to believe what's happening I'm a few steps away from him before I notice he's humming. I stop walking and after seconds he stops humming. I wait for him to turn around and say something scathing something that he thinks will make me turn and cry but will only make me colder. But he doesn't turn. I'm about to speak when he beats me to it.
"He loves attention." He says softly in that gruff voice of his. "He loves being treated with care. And … I just… forgot that."
I keep silent, unsure of how long this will last, when he answers two of the questions I wanted to ask.
"I challenged that boy in green. And I lost." He stops brushing for a second then continues, chuckling softly. "Twice. And he tamed that wild horse you like so much. He won it, too. I'm sorry."
"She'll come back. And we can share, I don't mind." I answer.
He nods as if understanding, and continues, "Would you believe that it was as if I was under a spell? That everything I never dreamed I could do, not only was I doing it, but I was enjoying it immensely?"
I don't answer back, but I don't think he notices. Ignoring me, he pockets the brush and mounts the black horse. Only when he's stable does he look at me and smiles. A bit disconcerted, I smile back half-heartedly.
"Some fresh air would be nice." He says and leaves.
I don't think I've ever had such a conversation with anyone before. And I don't think I've ever seen Mr. Ingo so calm. Calm or not, his behaviour is not enough to make me change. It's nice someone's happy, it means they have the ability to be strong and heal. I don't want to heal right now. I don't think I deserve to.
After a few hours, when the sun has set in and everything is lighted, I leave the ranch. It never bothered me to leave the place open before, closing the doors, windows, locking everything. But this time I don't forget. If there's anything these past years have taught me is that people can change. Sometimes for the worst. I don't want to discover that someone I thought was nice once, stole something of mine. When I'm done, I head towards my usual spot grabbing a few stones along the way.
When I reach the bridge, I consider throwing them over, but decide against it. Sitting under the tree I place them on my lap and start throwing them. With every one I throw I gain more strength and each one lands further. Someone might say I was throwing my anger out, others might say it was a way to relieve stress, for me? Well, I just had nothing else to do. I am running out of stones when one of the last ones hit a former castle guard. I have seen him a few times in Kakariko, mostly telling the most elaborate tall tales he could come up with to anyone who would listen to him. When the stone hits him, right in the back of the head, he turns to me with a frightened expression. At first I think he is afraid one of the carpenter's had thrown a rock at him, since he had been followed a lot by them after they noticed he was lying, but then his gaze goes up towards Death Mountain. He runs away and I look up.
The mountain is throwing more than it's usual amount of smoke and a few, quite a few, red sparks, something that could only be lava, is coming out. For one stupid second I think I'm going to die, and I panic. Then of course I realize if it indeed is going to explode, it won't matter if I run. It would catch up with me since I wasn't fast enough. So, I resign myself to watch the unbelievable spectacle. I know it is something I would only see this once and I try to memorize everything. If I was to die now, then I would die with the thought of one of the most incredible things that could happen. It's been centuries since it last erupted, so much that it was considered not to be active anymore. When it booms, for there is no other word for it, I lean forward in anticipation. Simply majestic.
Then it stops.
I'm holding my breath, and it takes a while for me to realize. Letting it go with a puff, I stare at the mountain emotionless. Looking down at a stone I was holding, so hard the marks were on my hand, I throw it in the general direction of Death Mountain.
Boom. I mouth. And laugh.
One would think that after thinking your life is about to end, when you're depressed and stuff, that it would make you realize that life is worth living. That you have so much to live for. As I lay on my bed that afternoon, I don't think any of that. I think about my father, what he must be doing, I think of the old hag that lives near the lake, and I think about the princess, she who left so long ago. When this all started.
You should've warned the people, princess.
I look at the ceiling and my vision starts to fog. Blinking I swear I can see a face before everything turns white.
Everything looks startlingly white, and I close my eyes for a few minutes. I don't wonder much about why I'm suddenly standing up when seconds ago I was laying down, but instead I try to look for something. I don't know why, but I'm looking for something.
"Malon." A genderless voice whispers behind me. My first instinct after turning around is to hit whatever is there. But there's nothing.
"Malon." It says again, but this time is unmistakably the voice of a female. Then I see her. If I hadn't seen that picture so much, I never would've recognized her. She would've seemed familiar, but I wouldn't have made the connection. I shake my head. This isn't real. Live people can't see dead people. That doesn't happen.
"My little girl." She says smiling. "Don't worry."
I open my mouth to say something, but somehow you just don't know what to say to a person who's been dead for so long. Who's been dead, period. I mean, you think about it, but you never actually think it's going to happen.
"This is a dream. This is a dream. Wake up Malon." I say to myself. This will all end quickly and I will wake up and…
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps, what?"
"Perhaps, this is a dream. Maybe, you will wake up now. Perchance, this is just in your imagination. I don't know."
"You're mocking me? My own dream figment is mocking me?"
"Malon." She starts again. "Just listen to this. I know you're sad, and I know you think you're going through this alone. And in a way you are. But you're so much better off than many other people. Some have such heavy things to carry. And I don't wish what you're going through on anyone, but sometimes we just need to let go of such things. Please. There are some things you have yet to do in the world, my dear girl, and if you're not here to do them… Just think about all the good things you can do. You have to have people in your life who support you. No matter who you are. Don't shy away from them. I have to go now."
The next thing I remember is something I hadn't received since I was a little girl. A kiss on the forehead.
Maybe it was a dream. Maybe I made that up. Maybe I wanted to believe everything my--, everything she said, but moments later when I wake up my weigh doesn't seem that heavy. I don't think I'm recovered, I'm not that dumb. But I think I just needed a little push. And even if it was from my subconscious, rather than my mother, it's still something. Isn't it?
It helps, doesn't it?
Oh, who am I fooling?
It's still light outside so I know I wasn't asleep a long time, but the days I spent awake catch up to me and I don't feel like getting out of bed. Pressing the pillow against my face I try to scream, but end up choking. Dammit, I can't even do this right. And that sounds so stupid in my head, I start to cry. And it's like this dam broke and all my tears were set free, and I just can't stop crying. I curl up in a ball and try to keep it down.
Oh yeah, my inner sarcasm says, because a dream can make you change.
A dream can just take away your problems.
But a dream is just that, a dream. Something you yearn for that can never be true. Because then, it wouldn't be a dream, now would it?
Oh Din, I need help.
…Please?