The Aspiring Archivist

"Not of you. Of what I could do to you."

"You said you knew it."

"Did... did you really think..."

He continued to weep.

"What if you're wrong?"

"How can you know?"

"After what I've done?"

"Around me?"

"Are you?"

He flinched, but let her.

He also began to cry, collapsing to the ground.

"No..."

He shuddered.

"No..."

"What?"

"I... I..." He couldn't speak.

He didn't, speak, couldn't. He just looked at her, terrified.

The girl continued to scream, then cry, "Why? I trusted you. I trusted you..." As she went silent, both Tayen and his dream counterpart collapsed, sobbing. His past self seemed to bleed into him, and he felt the pain, the grief. He saw through the other's eyes, and Helda was beneath him, dead and bloody. Tayen cried out and awoke, scrambling away from Helda.

Tayen slept, and for the first time in a long time, dreamed. He saw himself when he was much younger, pain behind his eyes, holding a small piece of twisted metal. He was looming over a still form in the dark... No. Please, no. He plunged it into the figure, then held and twisted it. The young girl woke and screamed in pain, eyes locking on his. He remembered her expression as he held her down, drawing out as much pain as he could, hoping for her to take his. Tayen found himself shouting, telling his past self to stop, but he made no sound as he killed his friend. --- Tayen twitched in her arms, and shuddered. "Stop," he whispered, "please..."

"...Fine." He leaned against her, pulling close and closing his eyes.

"Really, I'm okay..."

"I'm rested enough now."

"I'll be alright. What should we do instead?"

"You're sure?"

"Want to try to rest a little more?"