"Are you all right?" Mary asked him.
James was sitting in the yard of his house... of Mary and the others' house, he wanted to say... though it was his, too, at least for now. Until this mess was sorted, it remained the safest, most logical option. Especially considering what had happened last night.
The mere sight of her approaching reminded him of it. After all, she was coming from the back, where they had used the shredder to dispose of another corpse. Well, technically it was the first corpse... because the other one had been nothing but a dream. The first corpse today... or ever, really. Because nothing indicated today was the first time that shredder had found its true purpose.
And why was he thinking about that? Why was he wondering? It gained him nothing. Fuck.
Mary stopped near him, resting a hand on the table. The shine in her eyes looked dimmer in the shade of the umbrella and her hair. And also due to the thoughts eating her up inside. Of course.
"More or less," James finally replied.
"What's wrong?"
Soft, gentle, understanding. She was all those things, but he didn't open up because of that. He opened up because if he didn't, he felt he'd explode.
"Nothing. I almost died, but I won. And it's not the first time. Honestly, I don't really care."
He surprised himself by realizing it wasn't a lie. Death, the danger of meeting it far too early, was scary. Of course. But deep down, he'd already gotten used to it. It was already part of his daily life. Human beings could get used to almost anything, good or bad, with terrifying speed. Almost anything.
"But I guess now I'm wondering what the point of all this is," he finally admitted.
Mary sat down with him, crossing her arms on the table.
"I'm listening."
Well, at least someone would. He could talk to Lea... He'd opened up to her a bit first, but Lea wasn't here. Mary was, and that was enough.
"I came here thinking I could reinvent myself, I guess. Or drowning, with no options. I thought I'd be free here," he drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. He was aware of how childish it sounded. Childish and stupid.
"Which would just be more of the same," Mary said.
"Yeah. That."
Players far above his league, beyond what he truly comprehended... cards stacked against him from the start, by pure bad luck, by not being born differently. Another rigged game. At its core, Ashfall, the land of dreams, was just that. Right?
Mary didn't try to deny it.
"The world is the world anywhere. Full of people who want to take advantage of others." She didn't try to comfort him, or soften things one bit. She assumed he'd prefer it that way. Straight-talking, no tiptoeing around, no first worrying about whether something would hurt his feelings. But...
"Do you think freedom doesn't exist? Peace of mind?"
"I don't think so," Mary shrugged. "Or at least not one you can enjoy beyond... occasionally. Sorry. I know it's not what you need to hear, but I'm your friend," she added with surprising ease. They had never talked about anything non-professional, they barely knew each other, but she apparently already considered herself his friend. "I'm not here to lie to you," Mary continued.
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"Thanks, I guess."
And then he turned his gaze to the vast sky, the endless sea between the clouds. Though only for a moment. Then, he simply lowered his head and sighed. He felt hurt, but surprised. Truth was, he couldn't say he was, despite his wildest hopes. Mary took it the wrong way.
"What are you going to do? Leave?"
James shook his head.
"It's not an option. If I leave, I'm guilty. A fugitive from..."
He realized he hadn't told Mary the whole truth... He realized he'd just put his foot right in it.
"Guilty of what?" she asked.
It was very easy to say: "Come on, just make up an excuse." What the hell could he say about it? Besides the truth? I mean... hiding it was unthinkable. No. And why exactly? Why not just say the damn truth?
He felt on the edge of a cliff, not a crossroads. He felt... But he steeled himself, acknowledging she was right. He had no reason to hide it from her at this point.
"The other asshole didn't leave town. I killed him."
The air suddenly turned different, as if the entire morning had changed and not just his perception of it. He looked her in the eyes and couldn't guess what she thought about it. How she had reacted. But once the box was opened, it couldn't be closed. So it no longer mattered what she thought about it.
"I had no other choice. This was the path forward. I imagine what's stopping them is that if they openly accuse me, I can talk about the attack. I can defend myself. If I leave, however, they can tell whatever story they want. And it'll be the default truth."
At least, that was the only reason he could think of for why they had lied for him, opting for silence. Telling people Richard had left town, end of story. Or letting them assume it. Otherwise, he couldn't make sense of it. Self-defense? Or not. He was a murderer.
There had to be a reason why they weren't openly investigating and accusing him. More importantly, however... Mary hadn't flinched.
"I have to say, you don't seem very surprised."
"I suspected."
James scratched the back of his head. Ah. That made sense.
"Yeah. I guess you don't need to be a genius to figure it out. I don't know why I thought I could hide it. Despite that... You wanted to work with me?"
"Despite that?" Mary repeated. "More like precisely because of that. I want to see them dead. I told you that."
"But you're not going to tell me why."
"Nope. No offense, but no. My friends don't even know, and I've known them for years. But I'd love for you to tell me how Richard died."
She asked him that without batting an eyelash. Clearly relishing the mere idea. But he couldn't judge her for that. She surely had more than enough reasons. And he had done worse things than Mary would ever say or think of doing. He was pretty sure of that.
"He died quickly. I defended myself as best I could. Stabbed him with his own knife."
Mary leaned back in her seat.
"Ah, the bastard didn't suffer. What a shame. And what did you do with the body?"
Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, but he'd already said too much. Why not tell her the whole truth?
"I took him to Descent."
Truth be told, it did take a weight off his shoulders. As if saying it out loud made him less the kind of psychopath who fed corpses to giant monsters. And enjoyed, in a way, the simple fact of killing his enemies.
"You mean you...?" Mary asked.
"Yeah. I had a spider eat his remains."
And of all the ways she could have responded to that, Mary surprised him. Though perhaps she shouldn't have. She whistled. She even smiled.
"Well, well. And here you had an innocent baby face." Her satisfied smile widened. "Don't make that face, eh, I'm praising you."
He supposed she was just as twisted as he was.
"I know. I'm just playing offended. Since I'm on this honesty kick... killing didn't bother me too much. It made me feel... well, strong."
And this might have been the moment when Mary realized he'd gone a bit further. That he was a lost cause, because he hadn't had feelings of vengeance or anything like that. He'd killed in self-defense. Yes, that was justification enough to defend oneself and that's it. But to enjoy it... no. Of course not.
But Mary didn't judge him. She just put a hand on his shoulder.
"What nobody tells you is that that's normal. And there's nothing wrong with it. So I'm telling you."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but you're not impartial."
Mary shrugged, accepting the fact easily.
"Of course not. But hey, killing people itself isn't normal. In this century, relatively few people experience what it's like to kill someone. And even fewer from so close. As one of the few people who's experienced it without being a crazy person or a murderer, I think I'm a fairly normal perspective..."
"Of an abnormal event," said James.
"Yeah. Exactly."
James nodded slowly.
"It might be because I'm also batshit crazy... but I think you're absolutely right."

