Hollow Apathy

I kept walking through the night, limping and stumbling. Though my vision slowly adapted, it did little to help me navigate. My head sagged with weariness.

The wheezes and clicks of the insects filled the night with a wide range of sounds, yet they barely registered in my ears. Blood steadily trickled from her arms and legs, seeping through the cloth wrapped around her wounds.

That sound.

The steady drip of droplets hitting the ground was all I could hear.

As if my mind was endlessly compelling me to notice it. I couldn’t tell if I was actually hearing it or if it was a fabrication of my mind, but it felt deafening. I didn’t even hear the sound of her sandals falling off her feet.

In a sense, it kept me awake, although I doubt I would be able to sleep anyway.

The forest, once filled with terror, barely touched me now. That last tearful smile was too vivid in my mind, consuming all other fears. It brought tears to my eyes every time I glimpsed at it.

One staggeringly painful image can undermine all the others.

Walking through a museum of thoughts, the pleasant paintings I wanted to recall were overshadowed by the crushing pathos of its final piece. All the others were a mere warm-up, a simple prelude for the chef d'oeuvre at the end.

Was this the culmination of our time together?

I was powerless. Disgustingly so.

I puked every time I recalled that moment, my stomach already empty.

Occasionally, I stumbled over roots or shrubs jutting from the ground. Each time I went down, I twisted onto my back, the backpack absorbing the blow.

I wanted to make sure I didn’t disgrace Yrish any further. No more than I already did by failing to protect her.

Whatever came my way, I simply couldn’t falter to my own shortcomings and fail to fulfil her wish to return home. Even if this was the last thing I would ever do.

Blood kept flowing down my wounded leg and the cut on my head. The cold of the night seeped deep inside my injuries.

Every movement caused my body to plead in agony, like sharp needles striking the same spots. Maggots gnawed at me from within until I was no more than a husk.

This never-ending ache felt like punishment, a debt for lying to her and to myself. I had no right to dignity.

Thinking I was enough to help her was nothing more than deceit and foolishness.

I hadn’t changed at all.

I was still the same useless human being as I was back in my old world. A decade of reflection wasn’t enough for me to better myself.

They were right, after all. What could I ever do? Could the most useless creature known to man ever find a purpose?

Reality struck me head-on.

The sun started to rise. Light steadily meandered through the forest, finally casting some light on the path I had blindly followed through the night. Sunrays briefly shone into my eyes as they slipped through the trees’ canopy.

I had been walking through the entire night.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on me. I had been carrying Yrish for hours. My stomach continually growled, and thirst dried my throat and mouth.

I was my own prisoner, trapped in a case of glass. The freest convict, bound only by my own values.

Why did I decide to take Yrish in?

Was it because she reminded me too much of myself?

Was I projecting my thirteen-year-old self into the girl I swore to protect?

What I suffered in school couldn’t even compare to what she had to go through to find herself alone in the forest so far away from home.

How could the weakest of them all, incapable of leaving home for years, even think to take pity on a girl who had been trying her best all along?

I was naive.

I laughed at my own repugnance.

I had always been pathetic, with no right to think I could protect someone, much less to be happy finding another person.

Was I given another chance at life just to make others lose theirs?

When did I choose to fight that creature? Was I trying to prove myself? Shouldn’t we have tried to run away or hide instead?

How could I have missed something so simple?

Had I been swallowed in greed and pride? Was I not trying to protect what I had?

I thought I knew myself.

I lifted my head and stared at the horizon, but “Tristte” was nowhere to be found. The forest looked the same as always.

The cries of the insects slowly vanished in the light.

Once again the world felt muted. The wind whispered unintelligibly. The grass and leaves swayed gently, every step a muffled crunch.

The touch of her gelid body froze my arms and chest. My lonely tears turned to ice as they fell. The blood dripping from my wounds was no longer warm.

The draft delicately pushed at my back, as if urging me onwards. Nature seemed to want me to strive for the girl’s desired destination, yet my body waged its own war.

The same trees, the same colourful shrubbery dotted in berries. I was infatuated by the forest’s beauty, but I couldn’t stop myself from weeping.

My gaze kept returning to the strange, terrible elegance of the body I carried.

“Why is the scenery so breathtakingly stunning when I am the only one left to see it?” Tears ran down my face.

It was a stark contrast to my miserable state and the tragedy I was living. Such a fascinating tapestry of scenery should never be woven for someone such as myself.

Yrish should have been the one here to see it.

Time slipped away. The sun had already been up for hours.

My arms and legs sagged under gravity’s pull. My eyes burned with exhaustion, dried out from the long hours of crying.

My energy was depleting faster than I thought.

Then, a rising gurgle broke the silence.

The sound of water swiftly rushing down and the roars of the current as it tumbled over rocks echoed. Its sounds dwarfed the gentle trickle of the creek I had followed for weeks.

We were nearing what seemed like a big river.

After trudging a few hundred metres down the steepening slope, we finally reached the riverbank.

The river surged with a power far beyond the gentle creek’s, stretching more than three times as wide. The reflection of the sunlight on the water’s surface was blinding, making it difficult to look its way.

Behind a dense wall of trees, their leaves covering most of the hill beside them, I could barely make out what appeared to be wooden roofs or structures far across the river.

Was that a village? Could that possibly be “Tristte”?

A small blossom of hope flared within me.

I felt the buildup of tension accumulated in my body slowly dissipate as relief took its place. My body had found one last surge of strength, driven by the hopes of achieving our goal.

Then, I was stabbed by a cold realisation.

I may be a fool, but I knew better than to try crossing the river with the soul of the dead.

I couldn't make it while carrying Yrish. The current was far too strong, at least for me in my present condition.

I needed to find another way, or it would all be meaningless.

I was hardly able to process my current situation. Sleep and exhaustion were heavy burdens on my mind. I needed only to push a little further.

If Yrish truly came from that village, there had to be a way to cross.

It didn’t seem plausible for her to just swim across.

It was best to follow the river south until we were closer to those frameworks.

The sun beat down on me as I walked along the river's edge. Fatigue continuously pressed me down. With each step, my consciousness gradually faded.

I had lost too much blood.

My vision swam as we got closer to what looked like a village in the distance.

Turning my attention to as far as I could see down the river, behind the gleam of the sun’s reflection, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a bridge.

I staggered towards it.

A final push.

Then, I saw it.

A double-arched wooden bridge rose before me, and beyond it, the faint silhouettes of a village.

It wasn’t a hallucination. The bridge stood solid, withstanding the river’s rage.

I was so close to fulfilling Yrish’s wish.

Our final destination was finally within reach.