The break of dawn, entering early morning, nears. Samir stood over the railing, his back facing the ocean.
"It gets worse every time I look at it," he said, rubbing his irritated eyes. Tears of unrest outlined them.
This is beyond anything I could imagine. What do I even do at this point? Why would he keep something like this and give it to me?
He glanced again at the page, lightly squinting this time. The eyes of the golden pages had met his eyes as well. The cries of the drowned had deafened him deeply.
Closing it, he put it down. The golden outline of the pages retained their shine as he tried to look away.
Everything I fear is in that book. They say that facing your fear and conquering it can get you far. Maybe I've gone too far.
What kind of man will I become if I let this be? Should I confront this or ignore it?
Samir scrunched his hair tightly. He felt that every second he waited was another burden placed upon him.
Tensing, he heard footsteps near him. Light and elegant.
Immediately, Samir adjusted, placing his hand over the book as his heart skipped a beat. He saw her.
"Hello, Samir," Kaya gleamed, swaying her hips in a dignified manner.
"K-Kaya. You're up awfully early," Samir said, sighing.
"I could say the same for you," she responded.
Kaya sat in front of him, crossing her legs and eyeing him deeply. Her body sat in an awkward position as she forced an uncomfortable smile.
Samir gulped. "Do you need something?" His hand gripped the book tighter. His eyes could barely make contact with hers.
"You're tired, like something is always bothering you. And you never speak to anybody here. Is there something wrong?" she said flatly.
"Well, that's just what's demanded of me if I ever want to make it far out here," he paused. "I'd like to think that I do the things I have to do, one way or another."
"And what does crying out here resolve?" she asked curiously.
Samir raised an eyebrow. "I'm not following."
"I heard that men cry alone. Did I come at a bad time, like always?" she continued.
"I'm not crying, I'm just stressed. I'm supposed to get to my duty momentarily," he added monotonally. His eyes started to ease into contact with her dark irises.
"But how much can you cry or stress over something until you realize you can't have it?" Kaya inquired.
"We all want something, Kaya. It just happens that our emotions get in the way before we can take the first step," Samir uttered.
"But that first step, I've taken it so many times. Yet something stabs me from below and takes me two steps back," Kaya muttered.
"Maybe what stabs you tells you something. It could be telling you that the path is the other way," Samir said.
"But I want to accept it. I want it to accept me. For something to hurt me means that it cares for me, right?" she said, gulping.
He sighed. "Pain is one thing or another. There are pains you can bleed through, and pains you have to let go."
". . . Then, shouldn't your hand be bleeding?"
. . .
Samir's gaze shifted to his hand, still holding tight to it. He grasped it as if he were preventing it from falling into the near sea.
"That book. I've seen it somewhere. And you're refusing to let go, like a blade impaling your palm. Is it worth bleeding for?" Kaya asked innocently.
Samir averted his eyes from her. "You ask too many questions that you're not ready for."
"We all want something, but we can't all be ready for it. Isn't that along the lines of what you said?" Kaya insisted, stepping closer. "What's a little more blood going to do? It never harmed me."
She continued, "And you cried seeing what's inside of it."
"My tears are not of sadness, Kaya," Samir asserted.
"So what's inside of it won't make you sad? Did it make you happier instead?" she persisted.
"There are certain tears you cannot pinpoint. Certain things you see that you can't just explain."
"But you can discern the things that you want to know." Kaya gave a veiled smile.
. . .
I want to make sure that she doesn't do anything rash. Anything after this is in my hands. Regarding my tears of unrest, I could tell her tears have been dumped out behind me. And does she think that's okay? Oh . . . what have I gotten myself into now.
Exiting his thoughts, he looked at her straight and said, "Kaya. Promise me something."
He unsheathed the blade of the book from trapping his hand, and his hand began to leak blood as he faced it toward Kaya.
"You do not speak of this. It'll only hurt you, others, and him especially," Samir warned.
She nodded. Her eyes grew larger as she listened closer to him.
"I can show you this, and only this. Not like it's any good, but at least you can wrap your head around it," Samir spoke as he flipped to a certain golden page.
Kaya sat obediently. Her demeanor showed neither a smile nor a frown, just a plain expression, all too normal.
Flipping through, Samir furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced at the page. His face looked exaggerated to Kaya. She even thought he was overreacting to what he saw. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, he didn't rest, so maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she thought.
Then—
Samir tossed the open book into her lap, the page wide open, lying on her thighs.
As she looked down . . . she saw it.
". . . Why?" she asked weakly this time.
"I asked myself the same thing too. I'd tell you if there was a prettier way to paint the reason behind it. If there was a reason in the first place."
In Kaya's view, she saw people wanting to let go, but they were made to bleed through it. Faces she had never seen. Cackling, expressionless, and agonizing.
She looked to the other side of the page as her mind scrambled, then she recognized a face.
A young boy from many years ago, smiling. Next to him, a seemingly old individual whose gender was unclear, with long white hair covering their face. Their smiles etched into her retinas.
She closed the book, sealing the image within it. Distressed, she looked up at Samir, unable to allow another word to escape her mouth.
"Don't scream. I know. I'd hoped that it would help explain something on your mind," Samir tried calming her.
". . . It failed . . . in doing that," she said softly.
She stood up, tossing the book back into his lap. Her arms were shaking immensely as she brushed the dust of the golden book off her legs.
"Samir."
He looked up at her, noticing her unease intensifying with every quiet moment.
". . . What could provoke you to hide such inexcusable actions behind such a beautiful cover?"
. . .