Why is the solution to certain problems so humiliating? Sometimes, keeping the reason that consumes you seems to be less shameful than admitting that it is a problem that needs solving.
Actually, in my case, I don't even know if what I was trying to do was actually the solution. I only know that it is to put my mind at rest and finally accept that what I did had to be done. To believe so, at least.
But I am a coward, because the very idea of facing it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't actually imagine how things could go and that causes me a huge block. I have nothing stable to cling to, because my memories are shards of glass that do not fully reflect the situation.
I like to think that he might welcome me with open arms and forgive me, but realistically, it seems rather unlikely. I am the reason he lost a family and freedom. I am the reason he suffers more than he deserves. Asking him for sympathy is absurd at this point when I had none in putting that plan into action. I did what I thought was best for me and did not take into consideration the fact that some detail might change. I had such a narrow view of what could happen that I did not ask myself all the appropriate questions.
I was stupid. And it's all my fault.
Wammy's House allows me to make up for one of my shortcomings, but, clearly, it is not enough, because cowardice remains an integral part of who I am.
I should stop trying to put plans in place that I am certain will fail. I wasn't even one hundred per cent sure I wanted to do it, and that was evident when, after positioning myself at the side of Watari's office and waiting about ten minutes for him to return, I ran off as soon as I saw him coming out of Roger's room.
I don't think he noticed me, because he didn't come to ask me anything about it. However, it is his habit not to come and talk to me or explain certain facts to me, so maybe he saw me, but he preferred to pretend nothing happened, because I am not worthy of occupying his time in any way.
Nevertheless, I am not going to let my friendship with Rae and Ayla be ruined by L.
I am going to try again. I'm going to force myself to stay there in front, until Watari takes me into his office. I don't think I need to go through Roger, because honestly, I don't know how aware of my past he is. In fact, even yesterday I didn't ask him to warn Watari of my desire to talk to him.
Perhaps, I should have done so, because having a third party to the matter know of my intention adds more responsibility. I know there's you, but you have no way of giving me a disapproving look when I change my mind and don't do what I set out to do. It helps a lot that you are not real and here with me, but, at the same time, I wish you were.
You are already a friend to me, and I would like to have you here with me, but that talk will be for another time. I want to focus on something else for today. Something slightly more important than you.
I was saying that you being an inanimate object allows me to be able to tell you that I am failing in this endeavour of mine, without feeling twice as bad.
Clearly the solution to this problem would be a real person who can reprimand me for what I propose to do and don't do, but I have no one to confess this to. Only you, who cannot even oblige me.
I tell myself that I have already found myself in a similar situation and the consequences were not the best; therefore, my mind considers complete failure more likely than possible success.
Moreover, one question is more pressing to me than the others: what if he thought that I went to mock his situation? That I was there to taunt him?
Obviously, that is not my goal, but I cannot control the way he thinks and reasons, nor can I get angry at his interpretation, since it seems that way, since I do it for selfish reasons anyway.
For me, honestly, it wouldn't make much difference, technically speaking, as I just want a closure, even if it is a negative one, despite the fact that it is undesirable. On an emotional level, it would matter to me if he had to hate me - unless he already does.
I slowly lifted my gaze from the page, without focusing it on anything in particular.
'What am I doing?' I thought.
Was I really going to visit someone I had sentenced to… I didn't actually know how much, but certainly more than fourteen years of imprisonment for reasons that concerned only me? Was I really going to show my gratitude to him in such a way, without even trying to help him in any way? I had robbed him of the chance to see his daughter grow up and I was simply going to show up like this to him, asking him what had made him treat me like that and expecting an answer that would appease my soul?
Could anyone be worse than me?
I couldn't simply use him for my own purposes, not after all I had made him suffer. It was not right.
I closed Mazzaroth, hung my pen on the cover and brought my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on them.
And I was a horrible person for thinking I could do that.
'Why am I like this?' I kept repeating to myself mentally.
Why couldn't I change my way of thinking and approaching him? Considering all that he had done for me, surely, he was thinking that I had used him for my benefit, without ever really having felt any affection towards him, and I wanted him to know that it wasn't so, but it was, anyway, a wish referring to me and nothing more. It did not imply his release from prison, nor any sort of remedy for the time lost, for his life destroyed by my actions. Even those two years away from his loved ones had surely irreparably scarred their relationship, and I was the main culprit.
I wanted someone to punish me too. I hadn't deserved to leave the situation intact, and the lack of negative consequences was driving me crazy.
I wanted something to happen to me. I wanted to suffer a retribution. I wanted someone to cause me some kind of suffering. I wanted someone to slap me or kick me, anything to make that suffocating feeling of scot-free guilt that caused a lump in my throat go away. I wanted to have bruises that would show my true nature and remind me of who I was and what I really deserved.
I had the urge to punch myself on the head, but I only dug my nails into my anterior tibialis, because I was in the main hall and could not afford to show myself so vulnerable. I didn't have time to go to the library and build a barricade of books; so, the only thing I could do was to bury my head in the ground and hope to be invisible to the eyes of the others present.
I felt short of breath, so I lifted my head slightly, to allow new oxygen to replace the carbon dioxide, but it was no use. My trachea seemed to want to prevent new air from reaching my lungs. I started taking deeper breaths as I felt my face lose colour and my heart beat wildly, signalling to me that it was not working properly.
It almost seemed as if my prayer to be chastised had been fulfilled, but there was something stronger guiding me. In that moment, the desire to stop hurting others changed into a necessary duty of survival.
Trying to be as calm as possible, I stood up. My legs were trembling under me, so much so that I had the impression that I had jackhammers inside them, banging against the wall of muscle and skin.
I wasn't even sure if I could actually walk, and I didn't even know where. I only knew that I didn't want to stay there, that I wanted to escape somewhere, but the stairs appeared to be ten times farther and bigger than me, unreachable and impossible to climb.
I felt everyone's eyes on me, but all I could do was look at the ground ahead of me, unable to focus on anything. I felt paralysed on the spot, while my heart continued to give me no rest. I began to feel colder than ever. It was as if I had been inside a freezer for at least three hours, from the way I was shivering, so much so that I wondered if I would die of hypothermia at that rate.
I had to find a light source as soon as possible to warm me up, but going into the garden turned out to be even worse, because every step I wanted to take in that direction seemed to make me fall into the void. There was nothing I could do but stay on my island, clutching Mazzaroth to me as tightly as I could, looking ahead and hoping it would all end as soon as possible, which was contradictory to what I thought I wanted and deserved.
"Immersed in deep journalistic thoughts?" Lex's voice seemed to come from the cafeteria, but I couldn't look up in that direction.
My body didn't want to respond, as if encased inside a block of ice, which immobilized me and took my breath away. I kept telling it to smash it and get out of that situation, but it wouldn't listen, as if it had suddenly become disconnected from my mind.
"Ethe?" He pronounced my name, and his crutches and legs entered the upper part of my peripheral vision.
He could not see me in that state, but, at that moment, he was between me and my only path to light, to some warmth. What was left for me was to take refuge in the first class to my left.
Without paying explicit attention to him, as he seemed to be trying to make another leap in my direction, I locked myself inside.
Not being in 'public' managed to eliminate one of the many discomforts I was feeling. I inhaled deeply, sliding down and continuing to hold Mazzaroth in my arms, and closed my eyes, finally going to moisten them, as I had avoided blinking, for fear that this might be the end of me.
Strangely, thinking about Lex's reaction to my pathetic scene of irrationality put the trigger out of my mind and raised new doubts about our friendly-looking relation.
Did he think I was strange? That I had some sort of problem with him for not responding? Or was this also part of his register of reactions that he thought were normal on my part? After all, he had assumed I was thinking of something related to journalism. However, running away like that was not a treatment that could be considered usual, unless he thought I didn't want to be disturbed, but even then, was it something I practised towards everyone or was it strictly aimed at him?
There were so many variables to consider that, although it questioned his opinion of me, it was definitely of a lesser intensity and did not risk make me breathless. It was an adequate solution, so to speak.
"Surely, you are not here to pay me a visit."
His voice was supposed to annoy me, and partly it did, but, at that moment, it was like a blessing, because it gave me the right frame of mind to free myself from the iceberg.
"So... How come you're here?"
I laid my gaze on L, crouched on the floor in the middle of the classroom, completely clear of the desks and chairs, positioned all against the wall. He was surrounded by at least hundreds of newspaper clippings, scattered here and there, which he continued to observe closely.
"Shouldn't you hide them out of my sight?" I asked him, finally managing to find the strength to speak.
I noticed a small smile on his lips.
"I would like that, because it would mean having something secret in my hands." He replied, without giving me any definitive information on what he was dealing with.
It was not difficult to understand, however, because a simple glance at the blackboard allowed me to guess for myself. There were various rates marked with chalk on it and three different graphs. I was not particularly good at maths, but it seemed clear to me that he was calculating some sort of trend. The acronyms that accompanied them did not help to actually understand what they referred to, as they were a series of letters that did not form words of any complete meaning. The various skyscrapers on the various pieces of newspaper did not answer that question either, but they were mathematical calculations.
L grabbed the corner of a page and showed it to me, pointing to a bold word in the headline with an index finger, but without looking in my direction for a single second.
'Exchange.'
"I await your comment now." He said, dropping the paper to the floor.
I rolled my eyes. How was he getting more and more irritating every time I had the misfortune to talk to him?
The only positive aspect of that situation was the fact that at least he wasn't with Ayla. I couldn't openly ask him what they were discussing, as he wouldn't answer me directly, adding as many details as possible, but that was something. It meant they weren't always together when I wasn't around.
"Do you have to prepare so much to win a chess match?"
The amount of effort he was putting in was absurd, unless he intended to become the world champion, but even then, it was definitely excessive and unnecessary. He should have practised using the game, which was nowhere to be found in that class.
I didn't really care how many hours he put into training; in fact, it was better that way, because it meant less time spent on his project and considering me a threat, but I wanted him to let Ayla know about all the possible days he was spending planning, so that the loss she suffered wouldn't make her feel inferior to that being.
She hadn't complained about anything, but I couldn't allow her to behave differently than usual just because L represented her 'boss' in a rather twisted way.
"No one had ever called it that." He commented. "Hm, I guess everything can be classified in such a way..."
For the first time since I had entered, he laid his gaze on me. He still had that blank look, but charged with emotions I couldn't explain.
"Even that between us." He added.
"That's its name." I ignored his way of instigating me, because what existed between us wasn't a game at all and I was irritated by the way he described it, reducing it to a repartee.
It wasn't and shouldn't be. He simply had to fulfil his duties, without me being there to reprimand him for his obvious shortcomings. I was not even directly seeking information about his past and I expected the same level of respect from him.
In any case, could that have been a detail about where he came from? Since it did not seem to be his custom to refer to chess in that way, did it mean that he spoke a dialect, in which that word was not included? Assuming he was referring to his term in English, there were about forty dialects in Great Britain, which didn't really help my research, because I would have had to wait to hear him pronounce it without sounding suspicious.
I wondered, though, why he contradicted me. Was he particularly attached to his natal city or did he always want to go against me whenever he had the chance?
"Not really, but I like the way you describe it. It makes it much more... Intellectual." He paused, returning to the newspaper cuttings. "I mean, a lot of it is intellectually based, but the results aren't always so easy to predict, and you have to hope for the best, which is annoying."
"It's a combination of the exact same moves." I retorted. "You don't have to hope. You just have to assume the position you think is most advantageous, based on what your opponent puts in place."
"I repeat, I like the way you describe it, but there are multiple opponents and, so, variables that you cannot control that risk bringing down your strategy."
"Ask them to leave the room." I didn't think it was necessary to say that, especially to the one whom everyone considered an undisputed genius.
Even Ayla had more than once needed the others to leave and, although not in extremely polite tones on her part, they had obeyed; therefore, it was perfectly possible, but since I had become aware of his problem, I could use it to my benefit. Not while challenging Ayla, because I didn't want it to backfire on her as well, but against others.
"By paying them?" He asked, though clearly a rhetorical question. "That would be rather counterproductive and illegal."
"It's just a game."
Not even competitive since it was taking place within the walls of an orphanage.
"Watari's assets are at stake."
"You value your existence too much." I uttered and L threw me...
I wasn't sure if a simple confused look or a glare. Probably somewhere in between, but I was right. His eventual actions could not have such a devastating impact to the point of being irreparable. He was a threat to Wammy's House socially, not monetarily, as Watari's career made up for any financial damage.
"Did I point out the wrong part?" He began looking for something, which I guessed was the piece of paper from earlier.
"Three tiles to your right." I helped him and he nodded, finding it and grabbing it.
He scanned it carefully, before showing it to me again, pointing to the same word.
"Read it, please." He ordered me.
I had the urge to tell him 'no', but I wanted that conversation to end with him agreeing with me, so I had to go along with him, even though I didn't understand why he needed to hear me say it.
"Exchange."
"Oh." He emitted a verse of understanding as I continued to be more confused than ever, even to the point of wondering if that was a sneaky tactic of his to think he was in the right.
It wasn't, because, especially in that case, the exchange was an integral part of the game, and it was impossible to play without implementing it. It was a mutual elimination of pieces. It did not have to be sequential, but the actions had to be closely related. It was not difficult to achieve.
"Apparently, neither of us was in the wrong." He nodded, lowering the paper. "First time for you, I guess." He added in a low voice, but just enough to be audible.
"It must be—"
"I meant for you to read 'stock', but I indicated 'exchange'." He cut me off. "From there, the confusion."
"It's not confusion. It's a mistake on your part."
L did not retort, perhaps already knowing that I would continue to insist until he admitted that he was incapable of that as well. In any case, it was implicit that I had been correct, and his silence only confirmed it, although I had preferred him to say so explicitly, but I couldn't expect it from the one who couldn't lose the title of 'infallible', even if I didn't know in what sphere, since it seemed to me he had solved zero cases.
"It must be humiliating for you, so you try to compensate for it by belittling me." I said what had prevented me from communicating previously. "You are pathetic."
"What I said was true." He objected. "Pathetic is... Something else entirely." He turned his gaze in my direction and I stood up.
The conversation was going to hit a point I didn't want to touch. I wanted to continue to feel that provocative, but calm state, without it turning into a storm that was going to hit L mercilessly.
After all, it was the ideal situation: we were alone; the classrooms were soundproof; I could very well go out the window without being seen and come back in through the canteen; Lex was the only one who saw me come in and I could shut him up without any problems, as he already felt a slight, concealed form of fear; the open window could easily have been explained by the sunny weather and the fact that the sun's rays were hitting the exact centre of the room, heating it up so much that it needed some fresh air; I would have made sure not to leave any traces of my passage and I would have lied, saying that I had avoided approaching him, which could also have been confirmed by Rae and Ayla, since I was avoiding them for that reason.
I opened the door.
"It was a nice conversation for me too, Ethelinda. I'd tell you to drop by anytime, but you do it anyway." He managed to say before I could close the entrance behind me.
I wanted to go back inside and insult him for the way he was teasing me, but I had other more important things to take care of, including... What was a 'stock'?
