To Pain

Nunquam despera. Never lose hope.
Not yet. I can’t give up yet. Can’t leave her alone.
Nunquam dede. Never surrender.
Can’t breathe. Can’t move. So much pain.
Nunquam despera. Nunquam dede. Never lose hope. Never surrender.
I can’t die yet. She needs me. I refuse to d—

Inhale… One — two — three — four.
I can breathe. I can move. The pain is—
Exhale… One — two — three — four.
Pain? Was I in—
Inhale… One — two — three — four.
What’s happening? Where am I? Where is—
Exhale… One — two — three — four.
I’m forgetting something. Something impor—

I open my eyes. Get up. I’m in a grassy field. Trees dot the landscape. The sun is bright. The air heavy and wet. The wind salty and smells of the ocean. Birds and bugs sing a friendly tune. It’s an average summer day, some would say pleasant.

I feel nauseous. I stumble for a nearby tree and fall against it, collapsing with my back to the truck. Despite the heat, I’m shivering, but also sweating profusely. I take deep gulping breaths to avoid retching all over myself. My body feels numb, cold, rigid. My mind refuses to focus. A dark tunnel fills my vision. I’m about to black out.

Nunquam despera.
“Never lose hope.”
Nunquam dede.
“Never surrender.”

Through torturous effort, I stave off unconsciousness. Force myself to focus. I raise and lower my arms. Flex my fingers. Pull my legs to my chest, then extend them again. Anything to restore feeling to my limbs and keep myself awake. Awake and alive because I have the distressing feeling that if I go under, I won’t come back up.

The effort is excruciating, and made magnitudes worse by the fact that my exposed skin is badly sunburned — swollen, inflamed, taught as a drum. I groan in pain through the whole process. Continuously whisper the Latin phrase to myself. Cling to it like a lifeline. I can’t remember why it's significant to me. But I hold tight to it all the same.

By the time I’ve restored feeling to my body and the tingling of renewed blood flow has faded, I start to miss the numbness. I lay against my tree, panting and sweating helplessly. My nausea has returned with vigor. My mind and body crave the sweet relief of unconsciousness. But I stay awake. Force myself to focus. To think.

Where am I? How did I get here? Who am I? The more I think, the more questions I have, and fewer answers. Where I am, a mystery. How I got here, unknown. My name, missing. I know a Latin phrase. But seemingly just the one. Since no more come to mind. I try, but I can’t recall anything else. A single phrase isn’t much. But it’s something. I suppose. Not very helpful to my current predicament, though. Ideally, I would remember where the nearest hospital was. Not that I could walk there if I did.

My vision is fading again. Everything is blurred. The black tunnel is back. Even focusing on the pain from my overcooked skin won’t keep me awake for long. My best idea — waiting for the sun to go down, then trying to find help — feels like a far-flung dream at this point. But still, I refuse to give up.

I start chanting my Latin phrase again. As loud as I can manage at first, but the more time passes, the quieter it comes. Some time later — Hours? Minutes? I have no way of knowing — my cracked lips are barely moving. If any sound escapes them, it’s imperceptible.

Some dark shapes move across my vision. They don’t even register at first. My vision is so far gone, everything is a blurry, dark shadow. It’s not till I hear them speak that I even attempt to focus. I blink painfully. My eyes are bone dry. I must have been staring unblinking into the distance. Looking like a marooned corpse.

“She’s alive! Can you still help her?” Comes a voice deep as the ocean and rough as an old rope.

Someone gives a choked gasp in response.

“This is— I can try, but— Do you have any thrinan?” The second voice is softer, feminine, full of forced composure meant to veil the truth. That I’m at the end of my rope. Hit the bitter end. On death’s door. I’m vaguely aware of this. Apparently I’m stubborn enough to defy death. I add this to my short list of facts about myself.

With effort, my eyes come to focus. Two creatures dominate my view. Tall and wide. Skin marbled black, brown, and ash gray. Hairy, with features resembling a boar. The larger of the two even has tusks. Were I more in my right mind, I would’ve been concerned by this, but as things stand, I just assume I’m hallucinating.

“Afraid not. Can you treat her without it?” Asks the larger creature. His is the ocean deep voice.

The smaller creature makes a grim expression. At least, I think she does. The boar features make it hard to read them.

“Can’t be that bad.” I say, barely a whisper, but I know they hear me since they both start. The smaller creature turns away, trying to hide a gasping sob. I guess it is that bad.

“Try not to speak, child. Just hold on. We’re going to help you. Everything will be fine.” Says the larger one, his deep voice calm and cool, like a gentle sea wave. He’s convincing. I almost believe him. But I know the state I’m in. I’m still racked with pain. My vision is blurred. Thoughts muddled. Head pounding. I’ll hold on alright. For as long as I possibly can. Having something new to focus on helps, but I’m dying and I know it.

The smaller one has regained her composure. She rummages for something in a bag. Seems to be having a hard time. I think her hands are shaking.

“Did you hear that? Everything will be fine.” I squeak out, addressing the smaller one. Maybe a little joke will calm her nerves.

She stops what she’s doing and fixes me with her full black eyes. In their depths I see fear, pity, sadness. Giant marble tears roll down her furry face. Tears? For me? I’m not worthy of tears. I try to tell her. But I can’t manage it. Talking is difficult.

She tries to speak, but her voice catches in her throat. She brusquely wipes her eyes and clears her throat.

“That’s right. Everything will be fine. We’ll take you back to the city. And you’ll be treated. And everything will be fine. I promise.” Voice full of resolve. Nerves steeled. She’s convincing. But I see the flaw. Moving me now would be a death sentence. I’ll never make it. The bigger one knows it too. I see it on his face. He beckons the smaller one to a private conversation.

“No.” I whisper.

They stop. Look at me with compassion and mercy. They must think I’m scared they will leave me. The smaller one goes to speak. I cut her off first.

“No.” I repeat. As firmly as I can, but it comes out as a plea. Maybe I am scared they will leave me. “I won’t make it. I know it. He knows it. You know it, too. If there’s something to be done. We must do it now. Please.”

The two creatures exchange a troubled look, full of worry, concern, fear. Not for themselves. For me. Whatever I’m asking of them, it must be no simple task.

The bigger one looks me straight in the eye, holding my gaze. Gentle but firm, he says, “Child. Do you understand what you're asking? The sun scorching alone is— plus the bruising, and there could be more injuries we don’t know of. You must understand. To treat you now will be— excruciating. And we have nothing to ease the pain. The pain alone could bring death. Do you truly understand?”

Truly, I don’t. I have no clue what they’re about to do to me. But the alternative is death, so it doesn’t matter. Whatever happens. No matter how excruciating. I will endure. I will survive. Nunquam despera. Nunquam dede. Never lose hope. Never surrender.

I say, “It’s this or death. Please. I can take it. Whatever it is. Please. I can’t die yet. She needs me.”

She needs me? That’s right! Someone out there is waiting for me. Someone important. I can’t die yet. She needs me. I refuse to die!

My resolve turns to steel. No matter what happens or what pain I have to endure, I will not die. Will not surrender. Will not yield.

“Please.” I plead.

The two boar like creatures look hesitant. I understand why. This must be a terrible thing to ask. They are kind, compassionate, willing to help a stranger like me. Yet, I’m asking them to torture and maybe kill me. For a moment, I think they will refuse, and it almost crushes me, but they don’t. The bigger one nods his consent.

These two creatures I barely know. I’m flooded with love for them. Have the greatest respect for them. At this moment, I appreciate them beyond words. I would tell them, but it’s getting harder to speak. Instead, I manage a weak smile and croak, “Thank you.” This makes the smaller one start crying again, but only briefly. They, too, have steeled their nerves. Whatever happens next, we three will face it together.

The bigger creature cuts a strip of leather from his own bag and instructs me to bite it. I do so. This will be all I have to help with the pain. The smaller one takes a small object from her bag. A polished stone, I think.

“Are you ready?” asks the smaller creature.

I nod, though I’m shaking, and can’t stop. The bigger creature takes my hand — he’s so much larger than me that really it’s my whole arm — in his. He nods to the smaller one. She begins.

“Aquilo miruvor.” She says.

The stone in her hand glows. Light breaks the surface from within. Luminous water coalesces in midair. Tranquil, welcoming, beautiful. I await the cool, heavenly embrace. I smile. It kisses my skin and turns to acid.

New and horrendous pain overcomes me. I bite down. Feel the leather between my teeth. Take short, rapid breaths. Resist the need to scream. I feel myself mending. Burns fade. Bruises heal. Swelling abates. The pain is immense. But I can do this. I can survive this.

I hazard a glance to check how much more I must endure. My pain is momentarily overcome by disbelief. One arm alone is submerged in the iridescent water? I can’t savvy it. This much pain from one arm? If that water covered my whole body, I can’t imagine the pain. But I don’t have to. Before my eyes, it expands to do just that.

My world is pain. It drowns my every sense. Overcomes my reason. Someone is screaming. It's a terrible sound. I hate it. Want to block it out. To cover my ears. Then I realize, I’m the one screaming.

I can’t stand much more. I wish for it to stop. Need it to stop. Would do anything to make it stop. And all at once, it does. The screaming stops. All sound stops. Everything stops.

Nunquam despera. Nunquam dede.