I looked at the sky.
It wasn't an ordinary look.
It was the kind that holds you from the inside.
As if the world were above me,
but also inside my head.
The clouds moved slowly.
They didn't seem to have a destination.
They didn't seem to carry guilt.
They were free of a past.
I wanted to be like them.
Could I walk among them?
If I reached out my hand, would I be able to grab one?
How do I grab things?
Ahh… I wish it could be daytime forever.
But when night comes, I look at the moon the same way.
I stare at it, trying to understand
why something so distant can make me feel… something.
If I like the day.
And I like the night.
Then what do I truly like?
What is "to like"?
And what do I like?
I don't remember much of anything.
It's not as if my mind is empty.
It works.
I think.
I understand words when I hear them.
But there is nothing before.
No beginning.
No childhood.
No face.
Confusing.
The moment I opened my eyes, an elderly woman was standing, and I was lying down.
Her eyes were wide, pale with shock.
She dropped her simple grocery bag,
with a few round yellow things
and something that looked like a piece of dirt.
She looked into my eyes as she trembled.
— Blood, blood?
What did you do?
Where were you?
What happened, boy?
Boy?
I looked at my hands.
They were soaked in red,
just like my torso.
A new smell.
I ran my hand across my lips.
A strange taste.
I can't describe it.
My vision felt distant…
Was that the blood she was talking about?
Should I feel something?
What is feeling?
Her pure soul took me in.
During the first few days, I couldn't move.
Progressively, I improved.
Eventually, I could walk.
My body began to truly feel like mine.
And she started calling me "burden."
I don't know who that is,
but she stopped saying that name once I began helping her with chores.
She taught me how to make "food"
and told me those yellow things were "potatoes."
I learned to make them edible
by heating water
and submerging them for a while.
On my first attempts, I burned my hands.
I felt something strange.
She said it was "pain."
I didn't know I didn't need to hold them.
Months passed.
And look, I learned many things.
Now I know how to make boiled potatoes, meat, and rice.
I also learned how to till the soil,
carry sacks of dirt, plant, and harvest.
She also told me to cover the mark on my neck.
Why, I wonder?
Sometimes I touched it and felt something strange.
It was different from my skin.
Soft, yet still part of it.
She didn't have one of those.
One day I'll learn what this mark is.
It must be something good.
I could live in this peace.
She has been tired lately.
She lies down most of the day.
She keeps talking about "dying,"
but I still don't understand what that means.
Not long ago, I discovered her name.
She said hers was Margareth.
But when she asked for mine,
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know what one was.
She told me it was what people call you.
If that's the case, I said my name was "young,"
since that was what she called me.
She placed her hand over mine.
— Young, a name is something important.
Mine was given by my mother.
She chose it with an immense amount of love.
If you don't have one — or at least don't remember yours — then earn one.
Work for it until you are worthy of a name filled with love.
Love.
Mother.
More words for my vocabulary.
I'm glad she still has enough energy to talk like that.
— Don't look at me like that, young!
Now go and buy more tomatoes for me.
Don't forget the potatoes, carrots, and cabbage.
The meat will be delivered here at the end of the day.
I swallowed dryly, doubtful.
— Tomatoes are the…
She rolled her eyes, giving a small laugh.
— The round red ones, but not the apples!
Ask the man at the stand and he'll point them out.
Now go on, go!
The market was close.
Almost an hour walking.
Another thing I learned: time.
A day has twenty-four hours.
An hour has sixty minutes.
And a minute, sixty seconds.
Now, what seconds are, I don't know.
When I arrived at the market, it was as usual.
I didn't remember what she asked for,
but the man did.
It was always the same order.
— Tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and meat.
How many will you need today, boy?
— I don't know how you always get it right — I laughed briefly —
but today I won't take meat.
If I'm not mistaken…
I'll take five of each.
Except tomatoes.
I'll take about two of those.
He smiled.
— "If I'm not mistaken?!"
He laughed loudly, as he always does.
— You outdo yourself every day.
I'll prepare your order!
— Thank you, Kaye!
With Margareth's groceries done,
all I had left was to walk back,
until I was interrupted by a short man, patchy beard, bald, with a large nose and bruised lips.
His bitten nails stood out as well.
I couldn't see his eyes because of the hood.
— Are you, by any chance, living with an elderly woman named Margareth for the past few months?
The question wasn't aggressive.
It was… confirmatory.
As if he already knew.
I grew suspicious,
but at first, he didn't seem dangerous.
— Yes, I live with her.
Why?
Do you know her?
Do you want me to pass along a message?
— Ah, no, no!
I actually needed to speak with you.
What a relief to finally find you!
Let's go somewhere less noticeable.
I followed him, but kept my guard up.
Why did he need discretion?
Something felt wrong.
— Here is fine.
Now tell me what you need.
He pulled a small, glowing blue stone from his pocket
and held it out to me.
— Hold this near your head and squeeze tightly.
It's nothing dangerous.
— I may not know much, but I'm sure stones don't glow. Now tell me what this is.
— How much do you know about the world you live in? It is far more complex than Margareth's house, buying fruits and vegetables, and tilling soil.
— That's all I've had until now. Don't blame me for not knowing something I've never seen.
— Then I'll at least do you one favor. I'll explain something important. Inside you — and inside all of us — there exists something. A grand and absolute force. We can use it to accomplish what was once impossible within rational reality. The impossible becomes common, and the uncertain grows ever more uncertain.
Inside this stone there is a considerable amount of that force. And it will awaken you, boy.
I really don't know anything.
If he were talking about roasted meat or something like that…
Greater force.
I want to have that. But why?
What is a "force"?
Instinctively, I took the stone from his hand and brought it close to my head.
Something began whispering inside my mind.
It hurt.
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
"Carlo"
— CARLO!
The same word repeating hundreds of times in my head.
My head hurt.
A lot.
What is that word?
— Hey!
What was that?
Explain yourself now!
Was that what they call a "joke"?
If it was, I didn't like it.
He laughed loudly.
— HAHAHAHA!
Ah, forgive me.
You really don't know anything.
You've become a walking sack of organs with no knowledge.
Here's another piece of knowledge: that word, "Carlo," that is your name, boy.
My eyes widened.
I looked at my hands.
— Name?
I… have one?
Why did you show me that?
A name.
It wasn't Young, after all.
How will Margareth react when she learns I have one?
But isn't it normal for everyone to have a name?
His smile vanished instantly.
— He wanted you to live a peaceful life.
To live until its end lucid and sane.
But… that wasn't the agreement.
No, it wasn't.
My God, Carlo, why did you have to see all that?
Sins must be judged.
Sin? Judgment?
Ahhh, more words I don't know.
— I don't understand much of what you say, but I don't believe I did anything that could have bothered you. What is all this about?
He looked sad.
— I know even less than you. Carlo, I am a man who loves. A man capable of doing anything for love. Even the most villainous acts.
Before I could continue,
he gently placed his hand on my shoulder, removed my scarf, and ran his fingers over the mark on my neck.
— Well, it's exactly as they told me. From now on, we will simply await the judgment. Forgive me, Carlo.
Judgment?
That word again?
Should I know it?
And why is he asking forgiveness? He did nothing wrong. He showed me my name.
He stepped into the middle of the crowd, pulling my arm.
— ATTENTION! THE ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU IS CARLO MATHERS, A DESPICABLE MURDERER!!
— What? Me?
Murderer? You must be mistaken!
— THAT MARK ON YOUR NECK SAYS IT ALL! IT'S IN THE DESCRIPTION ON THE POSTER!!
At that exact moment, several bystanders pulled pieces of paper from their pockets
and looked at me.
At the paper.
At me.
Paper.
Me.
Paper.
Me.
Me.
Me.
Me.
Me.
— GET HIM!
The crowd shouted in ecstasy.
My heart.
I felt something strange in it.
It beat so hard it hurt.
My body turned cold.
My hairs stood on end.
What is this?
I couldn't breathe properly anymore.
The air felt dirty.
Heavy.
I lost control of everything.
I didn't know what to do.
Before I realized it, I ran.
I passed by the man who started the chaos.
On that ugly face of his was a smile.
And for a brief moment, I saw his eyes.
They glowed purple.
I ran.
Until my legs stopped.
Until my body screamed that it could not go on.
In that moment, I understood
what the pain Margareth spoke of was.
I managed to lose them when I reached a place with dense vegetation.
Thankfully there were no "demi-humans"
Margareth had mentioned.
She said they run up to three times faster than us humans.
— What the…
What…
I don't know what word you say when things are bad…
— Fuck!
That was the word she taught me.
Fuck, I need to go back to her house.
That man knows about her.
I tried to run, but couldn't.
My legs were exhausted.
My breathing ragged.
My body would not obey.
It begged me to stay on the ground.
I concluded I had to rest.
A few minutes passed.
Then I ran.
I arrived much faster than usual.
But I was exhausted.
How will I tell her I lost the groceries?
More importantly.
I have to keep her safe.
Now I have a name.
I have to work hard to keep it.
But… what is a murderer?
Another word to add to my vocabulary later.
When I opened the door, I felt something.
It was silent inside.
Even more than usual.
The door was open.
I locked it.
I didn't forget.
She taught me to lock it.
The smell.
That smell I felt when I woke up.
It was much worse.
I can't stop smelling it.
Nausea.
Is the air colder today?
The wooden floor felt like rough stone.
I walked slowly.
As if I didn't want to reach her room.
Ah, the window is open.
Maybe she caught a cold?
I'm worried about her.
She always worried about me.
Does Margareth like me?
Well, she must, right?
She let me stay here and taught me many things.
That's what a mother would do, right?
Does she have children? I'll ask.
I walked to the door.
That golden doorknob always caught my attention.
It shines so much during the day, but it's cold.
When I placed my hand on it, it was warm.
A strong blow ran through my body.
Something in my stomach felt like it wanted to rise.
What a terrible taste.
But I can't spit it on the floor.
I turned the knob, and as usual, the door creaked.
Much more than normal.
Maybe because I was opening it very slowly.
What was "slowly" again?
The creaking grew less periodic
until the door fully opened.
Decapitate.
Dismember.
Death.
I learned all those words today.
My eyes filled with water.
Something ran down from them to my lips.
Salty.
My vision blurred.
What is this?
I don't know anything, fuck.
Margareth.
Anger.
Is this what "feeling" means?
I could have learned more words from her.