And Love Can’t Speak
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The first thing I saw when we reached the top of the stairs was a small, dark room with nothing in it but an open door. The second thing that caught my eye was two people standing at its entrance: one tall and thin, wearing a long coat; the other short and stout, dressed all in black.
They both looked up as we approached them—the taller man smiled slightly while his companion gave me a look that said he’d just swallowed something sour.
“Good evening,” I greeted them politely, trying not to let on how nervous I felt about meeting these strangers who had been so kind as to help us out earlier today. “We’re here for Mr. James Blundell.”
I could see from their expressions that they knew exactly why we were there. Both men nodded briefly before turning back toward each other again without saying anything else. Then they took off into the darkness beyond the doorway together like they didn’t want anyone watching what happened next.
As soon as they disappeared through the opening, a strange feeling came over me… It wasn’t fear or anxiety. More than anything, it seemed almost nostalgic somehow. Like I was remembering someplace I used to know well. But where? And why did this place make me feel so sad…?
It’s probably because you’ve never seen this place before, a voice inside my head told me gently. You don’t even remember your real name anymore. That must be really scary.
But if that were true, then why would I have such strong feelings about seeing this place now? Why do I seem to recognize everything around me? What is going on?!
Before I could get any answers, however, someone called out behind me. Turning, I found myself looking directly into the eyes of another person who had appeared silently beside me. He was youngish-looking and very handsome, with brown hair and deep blue eyes.
His face was familiar too, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I might have met him before. In fact, I hadn’t noticed him until right after I spotted the two men outside the door. Still, I immediately recognized him as being important somehow. So much so that I instinctively stepped forward to meet him halfway.
“Hello,” I said warmly. “My name is Tim.”
He shook his head slowly as if shaking away a bad dream. “No, no, please…” he murmured weakly. Then, suddenly, tears began streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t call me by that name! Please stop!”
His voice sounded distant, faraway. It made me wonder whether maybe I shouldn’t try talking to him instead. But just as I started to step closer, I heard a loud noise coming from somewhere nearby. A heavy thud, followed by several more quick ones.
Someone was fighting against something hard enough to shake the whole building. Suddenly, I remembered what those two men had warned me about earlier today. This place was full of monsters. Monsters who liked to kill people.
Just then, the boy turned to run. But before he got anywhere, I grabbed hold of his arm. Looking up at me, he seemed surprised to find himself still there. After blinking rapidly a few times, he finally managed to speak again.
“You can’t go in there alone,” I explained calmly. “Those guys are dangerous, and you don’t know how to fight yet. If they catch you—”
“Please, let me go!” he begged loudly. “They’ll hurt you, too! Don’t follow me!!”
Then he ran off into the darkness ahead of me once again. Before I could say anything more, however, there was another sound. One that caused me to turn back toward the doorway. Another thump, followed by three more. Then silence.
For a moment, I thought perhaps the monster had already killed whoever was struggling out there. But then I realized that it was actually the boy running past me. He was heading straight for the room where the two men had gone inside only moments ago. When he reached the doorway, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. His expression changed quickly, becoming pale and stiff.
“Oh God,” he whispered softly. Then, taking a single step backward, he ran away from the doorway. Not toward me this time. Instead, he headed deeper into the shadows under the staircase. I wanted to chase after him and ask him what was wrong, but I also sensed that doing so wouldn’t be wise.
Something terrible had clearly happened between the two men and the boy. Whatever it was, it was best left unspoken.
So instead, I continued up the stairs. Once I reached the top, however, I paused for a moment to look around. There was nothing special about this particular area of the building except that it had been built with the same materials as most of the others.
The walls were rough stone blocks, while the flooring consisted mostly of bare concrete slabs. Several pipes jutted out from the ceiling like metal teeth, all connected to various machinery that looked old and rusty. Everything about this place screamed “dilapidated”.
Yet despite its appearance, I couldn’t sense any danger lurking within. Which meant that whatever had frightened the boy must have come from elsewhere entirely.
The answer to my question became clear when I saw the open door that led further into the building. Inside, I found myself staring at an enormous machine—a huge cylinder that reminded me of some sort of giant drill. Its surface was covered in thick layers of dust, which gave it a dull gray coloration.
All around it, however, lay scattered piles of broken parts and discarded tools. Some of these pieces had obviously belonged to the machines themselves, while others had been used to repair them. Either way, their purpose was obvious:
They’d been taken apart to make sure none of the parts could ever be reused. And judging by the number of items lying here, I guessed that the process would take far longer than it took to build the original equipment in the first place.
I walked over to one side of the machine and peered closely at the pile of debris. As soon as I did, I felt a sudden chill run through me. My heart skipped a beat or two, and I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t going to like what I found next. Because standing right there among the wreckage, I discovered a body. Or rather, the remains of a human being.
It was a man’s corpse. Taller than average, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. At least, that much I could tell. But beyond that, I didn’t recognize him. Whoever he might’ve been, though, he hadn’t died very long ago. Even now, his skin was still slightly moist, giving his features a somewhat waxy appearance. Just looking at him made me feel sick to my stomach.
But even worse than seeing the body itself was realizing why it had ended up here. It was because someone had deliberately put it there. That much was obvious just by glancing around the room. A large number of bloodstains marked the ground beneath the body, along with numerous other signs of violence.
In fact, several of those stains appeared to have soaked deep into the dirt, leaving dark streaks on the floor. Judging by the size of the wounds, it seemed likely that the killer had stabbed his victim repeatedly. More specifically, he’d probably done it using a knife.
My eyes moved across the room, searching for something else. Anything that might give me a clue about who the man was. Unfortunately, I came up empty-handed. No name tags hung from his chest, no identification cards rested in his pockets.
Nothing. Not even a wallet. So if I wanted to find out more about him, I was going to need help. Someone who could identify him based solely on physical characteristics. But unfortunately, I didn’t happen to know anyone like that. Not anymore, anyway…
As I stood there pondering the situation, however, I suddenly heard footsteps approaching behind me. Turning around, I spotted the boy walking slowly down the stairs. He stopped once he got close enough to see what I was doing. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Neither of us needed to. We both understood exactly how we felt. Our hearts ached, our throats burned, and every part of us yearned to turn back time. To go back before things went awry. Before everything changed forever.
Eventually, though, the boy broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
For a moment, I thought he sounded angry. Like he blamed me somehow for what had happened. But then I realized that he wasn’t talking about himself. Instead, he was referring to the dead man. Asking whether I was alright.
That alone told me everything I needed to know about him. This kid was different. Much better than the rest of them, in fact. His compassion shone brightly through his words and actions. If only more people were like him, the world would be such a wonderful place to live in!
“Yeah,” I answered, trying not to sound too eager. “I’m fine.”
He nodded. Then, after hesitating briefly, he continued speaking. “So do you want to talk? About what happened…”
His voice trailed off uncertainly. Clearly, this was new territory for him. Still, I couldn’t let fear hold me back any longer. After all, I owed it to the boy to explain myself. Especially since he was willing to listen. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt anything to try.
Maybe, just maybe, I’d finally get lucky and learn something useful. Something that might actually lead me toward the truth.
Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the body and faced the boy again. “You’re right. There is something I should say. And so, I’ll start by telling you the whole story. From the beginning. The good news is, it won’t take long.”
***
A few hours later, I sat on a bench outside the police station. Waiting patiently while they finished their investigation inside. While waiting, I tried to figure out where to begin. How best to describe my experiences during the last few days. What order to put things in. Which details to include. All of which proved difficult given how little I remembered.
In the end, I decided to make it simple. Start with the basics. Begin with my arrival in town. Everything leading up to yesterday morning. Then work backward until I reached the present day. Hopefully, that would allow me to piece together some semblance of an explanation. Or at least, one that made sense. One that helped me understand everything that had happened.
After taking another sip of water, I began. “The first thing I remember is being dumped onto the street. By a girl named Alice. She said she found me unconscious near her house. Apparently, I’d collapsed right after getting hit over the head. With a rock, apparently.
Either way, I woke up a couple minutes later. When I did, I saw that I was lying next to a big pile of garbage bags. So I looked inside and discovered that most of them contained clothes. My own included. Including the ones I was wearing when I fell asleep.
At least, I think they were mine. They smelled familiar, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, whatever the case may be, I took them home with me. Figured I’d wash ’em and wear’ ’em again someday. The only problem was, I never got around to washing them. Because a week or two passed without incident. Until that day, when…”
I paused for a second, unable to continue. Unable to speak. Unsure how to proceed. In other words, I froze up. Again. Just as I always did whenever I started thinking about that night. That awful, horrible day. Whenever I thought of the events that followed. Of the terrible consequences that resulted.
But eventually, I managed to regain control. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move forward. “Anyway, I spent the rest of that day cleaning up my apartment. Washing dishes. Doing laundry. Vacuuming. You name it. Anything to keep busy.
Trying desperately to avoid dwelling on my past. On what I used to be. All the pain and suffering I endured. Or rather, the person I became because of it. It’s hard to believe, but I really was a monster. A real-life nightmare. Someone who deserved nothing less than death. But thanks to Alice, I’ve been able to transform into someone else entirely. Into a completely different person.”
It felt strange saying those words aloud. Even now. More than three years later. Saying them seemed almost sacrilegious. As if I were defying God Himself. Yet still, there was no denying the truth. Not anymore. No matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise.
“And yet, even after changing so drastically, I couldn’t help feeling guilty. Guilty for having survived. For living while others died. Feeling responsible for their deaths. Knowing full well that none of it was my fault. And that I had done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve such punishment. To have my life taken away. Despite doing nothing to warrant it.”
My eyes drifted down toward the ground. Away from the boy sitting across from me. He stared silently back at me. Listening intently. Perhaps hoping to hear something he didn’t already know. Some kind of answer to his question. An explanation for why I acted the way I did. Why I chose to behave the way I did.
Yet despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find the strength to go on. Instead, I remained silent. Staring straight ahead. Lost in my thoughts. Wondering how to explain all this. How to tell him everything. About the past. The present. And especially, the future.
Eventually, however, I regained enough composure to resume speaking. “That night, I went out drinking. Like usual. Only instead of heading to a bar like I usually do, I ended up going to a party. A friend of mine invited me along. Said we could use the money.
Plus, I figured I might run into somebody I knew. Somebody who might recognize me. Maybe even offer me a job. Something to get me off the streets once and for all. Afterward, I headed home. Alone. Without anyone knowing where I was. Hoping to sneak in undetected. Then spend the entire night hiding under my bed.”
As soon as I finished talking, I glanced over at the boy. His expression hadn’t changed since I began. Still blank. Unreadable. Nevertheless, I continued.
“Only things didn’t quite turn out the way I planned. Because before long, I ran into a guy I recognized. A man named Kenji. They turned out to be the boyfriend of one of my classmates. Which meant… Well, you probably guessed by now. We both attended the same school.
Meaning that our paths crossed more often than not. Especially during lunch breaks and recesses. Although, I guess it wasn’t too surprising that we bumped into each other here. At a party. Where everyone was drunk or high on drugs.”
At last, I looked directly into the boy’s eyes again. “Kenji asked me if I’d seen Alice. Told me she was missing. Apparently, they got separated somewhere inside the house. While trying to escape. So he grabbed her hand and tried to lead her outside.
But when he opened the door, he found himself face-to-face with another girl. One who appeared to be very intoxicated. She stumbled right into him. Almost knocking him unconscious. Before he could react, the two girls disappeared through the front entrance. Leaving him alone in the hallway.
Confused and terrified. With nowhere to go. Unable to see either of them anywhere around him. And nobody was willing to lend him any assistance. Not until an hour later, anyway. When Alice finally reappeared. Looking disheveled. Gasping for air. Her clothes are torn and dirty. Blood trickled down her arms. From some unknown source. And then…”
I paused. Pausing briefly to take a deep breath. Pushing aside the memories. The emotions. Of that terrible night. Back when I was just a kid. Barely old enough to understand what was happening. Too young to comprehend the danger I faced.
“Alice told us about the attack,” I said quietly. “About being kidnapped. Taken against her will. By a group of men. Men who killed several people. Including her father. In cold blood. Just to make sure she didn’t try anything stupid. Or attempt to flee.
All because they believed she was somehow involved in the murder of their leader. Someone called ‘The Man’. Whose identity remains a mystery to this day. However, the fact that he’s dead doesn’t mean his organization is gone. Far from it. They’re still out there.
Waiting in the shadows. Lurking in the darkness. Prepared to strike whenever they feel threatened. Whenever someone threatens their power. Their control. That’s why Alice refused to leave. Refused to let them win. Even though she knew the risks. Knew the dangers.
Realized that running away would only put herself and those closest to her in greater peril. As far as she was concerned, it was better to die fighting. Fighting for what she loved most. Then to live without ever experiencing true happiness. No matter the cost.”
I paused again. Felt myself growing weaker by the second. My voice failed me. Yet I forced myself to continue regardless. Forced me to keep going. Keep telling the truth. To reveal every detail. Every painful memory. Until I had no choice but to stop.
Until I collapsed onto the floor. Crawling forward toward the boy. Clutching his hands tightly within my own. Crying out loud. Loud enough so that everyone else could hear me. Screaming out for help. For anyone to come to save me. Save us.
Then, suddenly, the boy was kneeling beside me. Lifting me gently into his arms. Holding me close. Comforting me. Gently rocking back and forth. Whispering softly into my ear. Saying nothing. Doing everything possible to ease my pain. Help me forget.
And yet, despite how much he seemed to care, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Wrong about the boy. About the way he held me. How tenderly he touched me. Like I was already dead.
Like I wasn’t really alive anymore.
The End