Valentine: Outside (CH. 7)

The Dead Masters - Valentine: Outside 

She was outside.

She could see nothing beyond what she could reach, for everything beyond that was covered in the dark snow. The constant growling of the hail invaded her auditory senses since she could remember, and then she was in a mysterious peace of doing anything she did in silence, pretty much after the hail was set as the default sound. Her newfound tolerance to cold, however, didn’t alter her desire of bathing herself in warmth. She was constantly groping around while moving forward, sensing that little bit of warmth that was covered by the cold of humanity’s mistakes, sincerely hoping that the traces of warmth was the way to the city – to her sister.

And then she tripped.

Plunging your face into cold water was excruciating enough for most, but her body plunging onto the thick, merciless snowfield was but a short rest for her. Every now and then she had this childish urge of making a snow angel by moving her hands and legs, but mostly dismissed the thought as she considered napping as a better option. She found it strange, though, that although the chilling effects could kill, she never had a permanent sleep. She still didn’t know why she didn’t die.

When she took a nap, she often had this strange dream of her attending a group meeting, where the leader would talk about things that most of the members didn’t know. She was there, sitting on a chair, wondering what strange concept that the leader introduced to them. There was always a guy calling out to her during this meeting on her dream, trying to make his actions concealed from the rest, then saying “You should pay attention in class,” and the next word was blurred, before they returned to concentrate on the white boards with scrabblings everywhere.

Her dream usually ended there, yet somehow in that particular dream, it was dragging to a point where everyone was to take a break from the gathering. While everyone seemed excited about the break, she walked out of the room, along the corridor only to find someone looking at the sky, as if waiting for her. She was so bright, so warm, that she instantly felt that it was her sister. She wanted to call out to her, but when she was about to do so, the person instead muttered, “wake up!”

As much as she was shocked yet again about how she didn’t fall into the deepest of sleep, she was even more appalled when she found the snow to be nowhere nearby. Instead, a gentle orange light bathed the place and gave her a clear understanding that she was in a cave, while emitting warmth that she had longed for.

He feared that she had met the same fate as others outside the boundary of a city. He was afraid that he would lose hope of erasing his loneliness, but this young girl had proven him wrong. He had lived in fear that, although he couldn’t die physically, he would rot and die on the inside. She had erased this fear, though, so at the miracle he smiled.

She widened her eye at the sight of the man, wondering whether she was saved or he was the angel of death. At first she thought it was the latter, for he smiled as if he was about to indulge himself on a feast. Yet him sitting beside her before going to sleep dismissed the thought. It was weird, though, that there was another person outside the boundary in this ending world. Not only did he survived the absence of oxygen and the cruelty of the chill, but also was he able to bring her to a warmer place. She never figured out how she survived, anyway, so maybe he was similar to her.

The gentle light flicked and was replaced with a choking green light. Before she could turn and checked the lantern, her vision was forced to be focused on a man that she was not aware of. She could sense a person that close without looking, but she didn’t even notice this man, giving of the feeling that he just somehow appeared out of nowhere. His posture and his wrinkles gave of the impression of a weak, old man, but his presence alone was malicious enough to make her feel that she might actually die this time.

And she was excited.

Suddenly the barrage of hailstorm roaring retreated, and the cold wind gave up on blowing inside the cave, although cold was still pretty much the atmosphere. She couldn’t move – she knew she couldn’t even without trying. If she could, though, she would attempt to check if the person that was sleeping next to her was actually next to her, that the lantern that was there to brighten the cave was actually there, albeit its dead fire. Yet she couldn’t, and this left her wondering if there was actually anything else around her, for she felt that everything had left her alone with this old man. Everything, even time.

His seemingly feeble hand tried to reach her, yet stopped halfway, as if considering whether she was really there to be reached. Again he proceeded, only to repeat the same doubt. She, being able to read somewhat weird situation like she always had, felt that this angel of death (if it was actually him) was trying to take her life, but refrained to do so, for one reason or another. Finally, he was able to grab her face, his faintly disgusting scent being clearly transmitted to her senses. His face couldn’t hide the pain, though, so he decided not to try to kill her. Maybe he could do the opposite.

“Why do you leave?” he asked with his hoarse voice, still in pain.

“I.. I don’t know,” she answered the question about her circumstances, not her purpose in life, althought there was but little difference between both. If this powerful existence had yet to understand the reason she wasn’t a lifeless body yet, then so had she.

“Why do you leave?” he repeated his question, with much clearer and deeper voice.

At that she froze. It was as if the angel of death was asking her questions that she, of all people, wanted to answer yet couldn’t. She couldn’t remember how long ago was it when she first found herself between the mountain of snow. She couldn’t remember the last person that had gave her the warmth inside, the warmth that she had missed for years, perhaps? She, of all people, wanted to ask anyone, everyone about those two questions, should anyone in the world had an answer. Yet this angel of death asked her instead, not the other way around.

“I want an answer to that,” she weakly answered, and at that he grinned, once again grabbed her face and lifted her whole paralyzed body until she no longer touched the ground, or whatever was left there now that she couldn’t feel the ground supporting her from the beginning. “I want to know, why I’m here. I want to know the reason for me to throw away my normal life. I want to understand.”

“And an answer you will find,” the angel of death, finally moving his hands to rub her hair. While he seemed to be a somewhat gentle, caring father to her while he caressed her hair, deep inside he was laughing, knowing that he would witness something much more entertaining than he had ever watched. With his raspy, yet now softer, he continued, “Valentine, right?”

She nodded. It was her name.

“Oh, my dear child,” his voice was then like a gentle melody to her, “I will give you time to find out the truth. However, do this old man a favour. There are people, people who actually desired to end their lives. You understand, don’t you?” It was as if she was a child who was listening to her grandfather’s story. “You’re one of them after all,” the last bit was said in a deep voice.

“Well, you can do good by... granting their wishes. Just be careful, because these people are also good people who will end your life if you wish so. If you have granted their wishes, then the truth will be revealed.” It occured to her that he was asking her to commit murder, to do his job, yet the thought didn’t disturb her. As a matter of fact, she did understand how it felt to want to just have someone carry the burden of ending your life. You had nothing to lose, and that person will start losing everything. “You can do that for me, don’t you?” he asked, and she didn’t even need to think to say yes. She didn’t even know why or how, yet so long had she been longing for a grandfather that she would grant him any wish, more so if it was good deeds.

Good girl.

Then everything was restored. The hailing storm continued to scream through her ears, the choking green light brightened to its warm, orange glow, the hardness ground and the cave around her began solidifying, and the man was there again. Time continued. Of course, the old man was nowhere to be found.

Valentine. She remembered. That was her name.

The man beside her was still sleeping, to her surprise, soundly. If she could believe herself, there was a faint smile on his face. She tried to resist the urge to wake him up and tell him her name, a name she had forgotten for long and only came back recently. Well, she failed.

“Hi,” she poked him, “My name is Valentine.”

Feeling a warm sensation poking his cheeks, he tried to opened his eyes that felt like it was frozen. At the slight hint of her being conscious, though, he woke up like a jolt and gasped in surprise. “Are you hurt?” He was holding her shoulder, checking her eyes, putting his palm on her forehead, looking at each side of her face, all with that worried look in his eyes that she was confused. If anything, she was the one to ask him that question. “Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed in relief.

“Hey, hey,” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder, before she excitedly declared, “my name is Valentine. Valentine.”

“Hi, there,” he smiled back awkwardly. “I’m Phrynthor.”