Clutching The Darkness

Chapter 12: The Transmutant

"He's taking a while," she said with a sense of softened annoyance. Whatever sense of anger or irritation— when it was said by Benilde, it was often bubble wrapped with her tone of cheery softness, like a marshmallow.

'She REMINDS me of a marshmallow', Isaac once told me a long time ago, back just before they dated.

It was something about her demeanor. Something of how innocent she was, almost childlike but with resolve and emotional intellect. I wanted to disagree and contest that his words were maybe a tad bit patronizing, but let's face it, he was kinda right.

Although, thinking back on it now, it's kind of great to know we have a total marshmallow in our group. The statue of righteousness and compassion. All of this shiny, idealistic virtue trapped in the body of a confectionary person. We didn't deserve her. We didn't deserve her kindness. Maybe I didn't deserve her help.

Or maybe she saw me as someone she could entrust her will? As if to coach me like an apprentice, showing me the valiance behind her bravery and kindness. To fight with words of love rather than cower behind the tongue of hate, like those she knows of. If so, did she expect me to one day grow like her? To be virtuous as her. To be as respectable as her. To be as kind as her.

To be, to be, to be...

And I don't think I ever could be.

"I'm sure, he'll come around," I tried to play a bit reasonably, after all, even marshmallows become roasted with enough heat and pressure. But not Benilde. I think— hope. Nah, definitely not.

"Maybe."

I took another whiff of the surrounding air, the pine oil not seeming nearly as soothing or impressive as I thought. The effect was starting to wear off, or maybe the alcohol was starting to set in— what little I drank anyway. My body still felt wavvy and almost gelatinous. What is wrong with me?

I was starting to lose feeling in some part of my right foot, while I could practically visualize and feel every little hormonal and emotional change in my body. I envisioned little globs of chemical energy— labeled as serotonin, dopamine, norepinephrine and maybe even some adrenaline.

Where they all scattered about, I wasn't sure. But I could imagine they flew about like pin balls inside me, each microscopic grain of chemical energy bouncing around like a hectic shopper at a black friday sale. Good for stimulating the economy and shifting aggregate demand, but damn terrible for Calidris' homeostasis.

"So, by the way, did you get Nasima back home safely?", she asked me.

Oh no...

"Yeah... we both had some drinks— of w-water I mean. The pills worked wonders. She was kinda drowsy, so I got her home."

"Did she go to sleep?"

Her body. Charred. Dead. Gone. Me with the rebar in my hands. Swinging. Dead. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

"Y-yeah, she's asleep."

I'm going to puke. Hurl. Oh god! Why!? Get out of my head. Get the images out! Dead, dead, dead, dead...

"Well, that's nice to know! By the way, Nine mentioned you were going to give me her keys,"

He said what!? Oh no...

"Here!", I said, handing them to her. She inspected them and flashed me a smile and a nod, giving me a soft hug as a term of affection. I laughed it off— no, I scowled and chuckled it off. I wanted to barf right then and there. But I held it in; who knows for how much longer.

But she stopped, her eyebrows scrunching up as she retreated back a bit and started sniffing near me. Her eyes seem preoccupied with an enigmatic sense of curiosity.