Hello all! I'm here with a surprise first chapter for this story because it's Louis' birthday today and this fic is centered on him. So, while I have not yet finished writing this fic, I am far enough in that I can post this chapter and be certain that I will not have to change anything major as I work on the last remaining portion.
Saying that, updates for this fic will be inconsistent in the beginning as I work to finish before becoming the normal weekly update. As such, tags will be updated as the story is updated. Also, this fic will be the conclusion to this series.
I think that's everything I need to say at the moment. So, on to the story!
Another morning. Another day to wilt and wither. Another day to submit and give in to the despair I feel. Another day to put everything off and wait for another day.
Another day to pretend that I have no responsibility in what will come. That I don't have any part of what has happened and that I bear no importance on the future. Where I can just passively sit on the outside and let the other one deal with it.
Another day where I would be able to hide in my memory of her.
It would be, except that this morning was different. In fact, everything was going to be different. That dog, Jack, barged in and made sure that it would be. He showed up at this remote shed on the rooftop and practically forced himself. He spun his little sad story about that stupid wolf and, for whatever reason, it worked. He sought me out and determined that he could force his way here and drag me back into the world.
I'm now the stupid and gullible idiot that's going to help him on this wild goose chase.
He swore up and down that his friend, the murderous carnivore, was only guilty of one of the recent devourings. He thought it was a good idea to admit to one crime in order to tell me, someone he barely knew. Like that made it better. Like that was all the reason in the world that was needed for me to go along with his plan. Like it was as obvious as the sun coming up each day.
So why did I agree to help him?
That's what I did. Like every story of the gullible herbivore falling prey to the cunning carnivore. I believed the story, complete with pleading eyes and crocodile tears. The whole production. I let the dog lure me out of the shed and to his clutches. I gave myself the opportunity to become the third dead herbivore in a month.
Haru… she's already gone. But he… he gets to go on.
And the most infuriating part of it all, the stupid wolf lived. That bumbling, clumsy mutt lived. Even after he killed her and tried to kill himself, he still lived. It didn't matter that he was in a coma, and it certainly didn't matter that his odds were low. That fucking wolf got another chance to get out and live.
It was such a repulsive and repugnant rebuke of how things should have been. There were no consequences for his actions. And that was my fault. I didn't say the words when I had the chance, and I still felt it then. I still felt it, right then and there.
Pity.
I heard it in his voice. Through his pathetic crying and screams, he begged. He begged not for an escape for his actions, nor to get away with what he did. No, he begged for forgiveness for what he did. He begged and pleaded. He fell to his knees, and even in the face of a direct consequence, he begged for a chance. And he got it.
What chance did the rest of us get? Did Tem get a chance to live? Did… Haru? No, they got nothing. Like every herbivore in the history of the world.
Where's our justice?
Justice… the only reason that I had agreed. The dog didn't say it, or maybe he did, but it was the only excuse I had to give myself. It was the only reason I had for wanting to even attempt to find the supposed "other" killer.
But what kind of justice did I agree to? Who got to decide the definition? If not our natural predator and prey hierarchy as the true arbiter of a "just" sentence, was it the legal definition? Was that not also based on the laws of predators? Did it not also consider the natures of carnivores and herbivores at its core?
Was that still the same system in which we operated in, this dog and I?
Right?
Why that dog sought me out was still a mystery. How did he find me? Who knew that I was staying up here in this shed?
And what else do they know about me?
Whatever it was that got me off the floor this morning, and whatever motivation it gave me to gather my few things and open the door, it was a start. If it was not the concern over the discovery of my place of solitude, it was the fact that I had been thoroughly rebuked by the mutt. His words made my thoughts jump like fluttering butterflies in the wind. He had given me so much to consider, particularly my own role in this story of his.
Now was not quite the time to replay his statements. I was drawn to a sound. Her alarm was blaring, as it continued to do every morning. I smiled. My cheeks hurt from this small movement.
She's still there. In some capacity. This will always be her shed and her garden. She'll always be here.
As I balled my clothing in my arms, I listened to her alarm. The clothes were damp, as nothing had changed. But something was different. Something felt different.
I slid the door shut, the sound from the alarm quieting, but never fully disappearing. My left hand was sore and the spot where my wound was oozing continued to throb. It guided my next actions.
That means having to confront… that night. What I did after finding her remains.
It was early in the morning and I had plenty of time before the first classes of the day. There was enough time to return to my dorm room and deal with my cut. That wasn't the real issue and would be much easier to deal with compared to the setting itself. Hydrogen peroxide and cream would be a start, but I doubted it would be enough. If the smell from far away was any indication, it was already well on its way to being infected.
I stepped over the remains of the ceramics that Jack had so unceremoniously shattered. Brown clay and black soil covered the area, and footprints showed his coming and going.
I opened the door, which had remained unlocked since Jack left in the middle of the night. Since there was only one pair of prints in the dirt, it was safe to assume that no other visitors had come to stalk me in the night. Though, there did seem to be a wide space without any dirt. I couldn't be sure. If someone knew the dirt was there, they probably could have avoided it. The thought of a carnivore hiding in the shadows of the night was disconcerting, but all herbivores had grown up with that fear. As such, we all knew how to suppress that emotion, some better than others.
Was that part of how she ended up in that situation that night? She told me that she wouldn't live her life in fear. Was that partly to blame? Was I truly listening to what she was saying? Could it have been code for not taking the necessary precautions?
It weighed on my mind. Her determination and stubbornness was legendary, though few ever got to see it.
"Legendary…" That implies that it was known by many others. She seemed to revel in her infamy around the school, but not for the reasons that ever made sense to me.
I came to a halt on a step when I considered another option.
Did she… seek out a carnivore? Did she want to be found?
I shook my head and continued to walk.
That would be absurd. Only a suicidal or truly desperate herbivore would seek out a carnivore for…
I didn't dare consider her in that context any further. Of all the absurd paranoia that could have happened in my mind, that was unworthy of obsession.
My footsteps echoed on the steps as I descended to the ground floor. Each one clicked and clacked and I felt heavier as I went. By the time I reached the last flight, I felt drained of all my energy. The silence of my surroundings did little to help the situation. I felt like I was being watched, but I knew that it mostly stemmed from an overreaction. When Jack just showed up last night uninvited, he had more than just startled me.
I followed the hallway to the doors at the front of the building and opened the door to see the tips of rays peeking above the horizon. The sun itself would be another few minutes away, but the scene before me was the perfect contrast of the shades of purple from the night and the clearness of the day. It would be worthy of admiration to some.
Maybe this was why she got up so early every day. Does it always look like this? Shadows receding and surrendering to the light of the morning? The sparkling dews on the grassy lawn showing that life would continue another day? Is this part of the appeal?
I was standing in front of the door to the building where my private dorm was located when I realized that I had been absorbed in the beauty of the early morning. I shook my head and slid the card key through the sensor and opened the door. I removed my shoes and climbed the steps to the second floor.
Everything was how I had left it that morning. The chair was overturned. The cushions from various pillows were shredded and polyester stuffing and feathers littered the floor. The TV was no longer sparking and sputtering. Shards of the screen blended in with the rug. Little dots of blood stained the expensive fabric.
I walked through the space and was flooded with the memories of that night. I smelled the rain and the soaked scent that came with damp clothing. I picked up the blood that found itself caught under my fingers, only to dry there and flake away. Tears formed in my eyes before I could allow myself to relive the rest. As if I hadn't relived that moment ever since that night. As if I didn't torment myself on the way to this very spot with paranoid confusion.
Even in my own thoughts, I contradict myself. Lie to myself. What do I even want?
I paused. The rug under my feet was soft. It reminded me of her. The good times were good, but even at the end, that never… She never had… Her fur was always…
It was her. Is that wrong? Is it wrong that what I can remember most is her softness? Even in our most intimate moments, her softness is always there.
I watched the tears drip. I felt them leave me, just like she did. Only here, only alone, could this happen.
All the time in the world would not fix the past. Not that I was asking for the past to change. Not when, from the very moment of my conception, from my very first memory, I have had horror thrust down my throat. How different was watching dozens of other herbivore children be taken from their cages, numbered burns seared into their feet, from a devouring that I only saw after the act occurred?
I fell to the floor and spilled the ball of clothing onto the glass shards. The tears continued to fall, soaking two spots in the carpet. It mimicked the blood stains on her face when I picked up her head.
This was the curse of the herbivore. To be surrounded by so much death at the hands of carnivores, and to have so little control in the outcome, was a fate not too dissimilar from that cage from all those years ago. It beat each and every herbivore down, until they, too, took their turn in the jaws of a carnivore.
I dug my nails into the soft material and grabbed the carpet, trying to will Haru to come up from the floor. It didn't work. The carpet remained. My eyes burned from the tears.
When I count to three, I will get up. When I count to three, I will get ready for the day. When I count to three, I… will be who the students need me to be.
"One…"
I sniffed.
"Two."
I wiped my eyes.
"Three."
I stood up.
Updates for this fic will be inconsistent as I work to finish and edit.
As always, comments and constructive feedback are always welcomed and appreciated.
