Chương 105: You Can’t Shoot Every Problem

After a minute (or perhaps several more) my heart had steadied. I was still tired, but no longer felt like I was dying. That was a scary experience. I met Kasia's eyes.

"Thank you. And sorry. I guess… I guess I wasn't fine." Vasil hopped next to us.

"You do not need to apologize. I should be the one to apologize, to you. I did not realize you were slipping until… I should have realized it sooner. I should have been there for you. I can't even imagine the amount of pressure you are under, this coupled with your grief…" He looked at the ground and shook his head.

"I have failed you." I inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. Was I really that bad? I didn't feel bad. Or maybe I did.

"I don't…" I said.

"What?"

"Hecate," Vasil said quietly.

"May I tell you what I have observed?" I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet.

"At first I thought the chaos was strategy. The jokes, the tangents, the way you would talk and talk and talk to your enemies while they were trying to kill you. I thought you were brilliant—keeping them off balance, making yourself unpredictable. And some of it probably was strategic." He paused, his eyes meeting mine.

"But then I started noticing you did the same thing to us. The same spirals. The same defensive humor. The same... disconnection. You would look at me with my mouth open and convince yourself I was strategically trying to catch mosquitoes so I could eat them without shame." Did I do that?

"We were standing there with our mouths open because we were shocked. Worried. We were concerned, Hecate. Not hunting insects." Kasia rubbed my arm.

"I'm sorry, but… You were scaring us, Hecate."

"And during the fight with the inquisitors..." Vasil continued.

"I also got scared. Truly scared. I thought they might kill you because you would not stop talking. You stood there monologuing while they were trying to murder you. Anyone with half a brain would have killed you mid-sentence. You were giving them every opportunity. And I realized you weren't doing it to them. You were doing it because you couldn't stop yourself."

"Half a brain?" Bogumir said, affronted.

"Yes, Bogumir," Vasil said.

"You are in this predicament because you let her talk. Unexpected from a seasoned inquisitor such as yourself." Bogumir grunted.

"I was caught off guard. I think we all were. No one attacks inquisitors. Especially not when they're outnumbered. And they definitely don't talk to us like she did. I was so bewildered I forgot how to act. It was like my brain froze. Now that I know that she's lost her damn marbles it all makes sense. I can't believe I got bested by an eighteen-year-old lunatic."

"I—" I started.

"You talk to severed heads like they're people," Vasil interrupted.

"You assign them personalities, have conversations with them. At first I thought it was dark humor. Now I wonder if you can tell the difference anymore." I could tell the difference! I could! I was just… having some fun. Though that probably doesn't make it better.

"I've seen people break before, Hecate. I've watched brilliant minds unravel. And the terrifying thing is they never see it happening. They think they're fine. They think everything makes perfect sense. But to everyone watching..." He shook his head.

"We were standing there with our mouths open because something was very wrong. Your mind… it is slipping." Had I really lost my mind? When did that happen? I didn't need to think long. Of course I knew when it had happened. It was the exact moment Menekrates' blade met Perry's neck and I was powerless to do anything about it. I'd only slipped further as time went on. Then Berava popped back into my mind. In a moment of clarity I'd recognized it for what it was. And I let it, because I thought it kept me safe.

I thought it kept all of us safe. If I didn't have to think about it… if I didn't have to feel it, I'd be fine. I thought if I just kept telling myself I was fine, I would be. Guess that didn't really work out the way I thought it would. And the last thing I wanted was for Kasia to be scared of me. I also didn't want to be crazy, or some kind of lunatic, like Bogumir called me.

It was fine if my enemies thought of me as one—maybe even good, since they would not be able to figure me out—but I didn't actually want to be one. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. But without that, without that shield, what would protect me? How was I supposed to live, knowing that I was the reason my best friend was dead? The clearing was quiet. Vasil and Kasia were just watching me, probably waiting for me to say something that wasn't a joke or a deflection…

or something not insane. I wasn't sure if I could go back. I wasn't sure if I wanted to. I didn't want to feel the way I did back when… Vasil broke the silence.

"We all deal with grief in our own way." He paused.

"Some of us avoid dealing with it as long as we can. The problem is that if you bottle it all up, if you keep pushing it away, then it keeps growing. At some point it will become all there is, and it will consume you. Or…"

"Or you go crazy…" I said. He gave me an empathic look.

"When they turned me into this, I told myself I deserved it for failing to protect Zosia. When they tortured me, all those years, I told myself I deserved it. Every lash. Every humiliation. Every moment trapped in this wretched body. I endured, because I felt I deserved to suffer. I would never be able to suffer as much as I deserved." He stared at the ground.

"In the end, nothing they did to me hurt as much as losing my daughter. In a way, I welcomed the torture. I craved it. Physical pain is simple, Hecate. It is loud, and it is right there, and while it is happening, it is the only thing that exists. It was the only thing powerful enough to drown out the guilt." He closed his eyes for a few seconds, likely thinking back to those times.

"I accepted the torture because as long as I was screaming from pain, I didn't have to hear the silence she left behind. I used their cruelty to hide from my own failure. But even the Church eventually tires of their games, and eventually they just… forgot about me. And the guilt? It is always there, waiting for the room to get quiet again. It never dulled. Not once in all those decades." He hesitated for a moment.

"The truth is, Hecate, the pain does not go away. You learn to carry it. You learn to function with it crushing you. Some days it is a weight on your chest. Other days it is all you are. But it never leaves. Never. And perhaps... perhaps that is what we deserve. For failing the people we—""Vasil," Kasia interrupted.

"Stop. Right now." He blinked at her.

"I don't think you're helping," she said.

"If anything, you're making it worse. You're telling her she'll feel like this forever? That she should lean into the suffering? That she deserves to be crushed by guilt for the rest of her life? How is that supposed to help her?" Kasia shook her head.

"No. You both need to deal with this. Vasil, Hecate will never replace Zosia. You need to accept that. Maybe you need to accept that Zosia hid her class from you for a reason. Have you ever considered she hid it to protect you? Do you think she would want you to wallow in self pity forever? Was that the kind of person she was?" Vasil opened his mouth, then closed it. Kasia turned to me.

"And you. Would Perry want you to act like an insane, bumbling lunatic? You think that would make him proud? What would Perry say if he saw you acting like this?" I frowned and scratched the back of my head. What would Perry say? Snap out of it, Hec? Then I remembered I still had the note he wrote for me before he died. I pulled it out of my satchel and unfolded it. I know what you're thinking. That this is your fault.

That if you'd kept your mouth shut, or not picked that class, or not shot Menandros, I'd still be here. You're wrong. The words blurred for a second. He'd known. Of course he'd known. He always knew what I was thinking before I did. But he was wrong this time. It was my fault. You didn't make Menandros a bully. You didn't make him corner us on that hill. You didn't make him beat me. You saved my life that day, even if it only bought me a few more hours. I got to say goodbye to my parents thanks to you.

My throat felt tight. A few more hours. That's all I'd bought him. A few more hours before they… No. Stop. Keep reading. You're going to want revenge. I know you. You're already planning how you'll kill Menekrates. Good. He deserves it. But don't die trying. Promise me. Promise me… I'd promised. I'd promised and then immediately started doing exactly what he told me not to do. Throwing myself at inquisitors. Monologuing to people trying to kill me. Talking to severed heads. Losing my mind.

You're probably going to get exiled. Most likely to Silesia, since that's basically a death sentence for you. It's going to be awful. You're going to want to give up. Don't. Even when you're being an idiot (which is often), you somehow make it work. He'd called it. All of it. Even the part about being an idiot. Some advice, since I won't be there to give it: - Trust your instincts, but not your impulses. There's a difference. I'd been doing the opposite. Following every impulse.

Ignoring every instinct that told me something was wrong. - You can't shoot every problem. I'd been trying though. - Make allies. I know you think you don't need anyone, but you do. I looked at Kasia still holding my hand. At Vasil watching me with those worried eyes. - Don't forget to reload. Despite everything, I almost smiled at that one. The charm I gave you isn't from a minotaur. You were right—it's a cow horn. But I told my mom it was from a minotaur, and she believed me, and now I can't take it back.

So just... keep the story going, yeah? I don't blame you, Hec. I never did. You're my best friend. You were always my best friend. Come back when you're strong enough. Make him pay. Make it flashy. —Perry P. S. If you get yourself killed doing something stupid, I'm going to be so mad at you. I read that last line again. And again. If you get yourself killed doing something stupid. I'd almost done exactly that. Multiple times. And he would have been so mad. My eyes burned, but I didn't cry.

I examined the piece of cow horn hanging from my neck and couldn't help but smile. He was always telling everyone that dumb minotaur story. The smaller kids loved it. The bigger ones didn't believe it at first, but when he invited them to collect another one they all backed down. And so the legend of Perikles the Minotaur Slayer lived on. I'm still surprised no one ever called his bluff. He'd known me better than anyone. Had he anticipated I'd lose my mind over his death? Is that why he'd left me the horn?

The stupid cow horn with its stupid story? To ground me somehow?

"Hecate," Kasia said softly.

"You've told us how Perry died. Maybe it would help you if you told us how he lived."