Humane

Chapter 8

Ask for help when needed.

Those words stringed together was my father's signature quote, probably the dumbest thing fourteen-year-old me had heard, Euler's postulates in Geometry excluded. Why would anyone not reach out when in need?

Why not?

I pushed myself back up, gasping for air. I couldn't do it. I couldn't just... drown myself.

Death wasn't a trial and error, neither was it a task achievable with enough practice. It was either failing health or an unbreakable will to leave everything behind. Of course, as usual, my rotten luck came into play and I had neither.

It was the first time everything in me contracted one another. I didn't wish to die, neither did I want to live. In the end, it was a choice between Doll reigning over me or both of us going down together.

And I was in neither equation anyway.

"What are you trying to do–?"

"Joker," I answered faintly, "stop invading my personal space."

"But you–"

"So? So what if I just want to die a heroic death and do a noble deed to the world?"

"Do you really want to die though...?"

"Do you really want me to live though? I mean, other than my ability to decipher your words and probably try to find a way to help you break out of whatever black magic has the strongest Card spirit trapped?"

Joker answered without hesitation, "No."

I took a deep breath. It didn't startle me, but it didn't make it any less horrifying that even Joker took pity upon me. He probably guessed that Doll would take over me entirely in no time - that wouldn't be wrong - but my instincts told me that I wasn't allowed to lose so easily. Something, something, would change things for me.

It wouldn't be very entertaining otherwise, huh?

I am a sacrifice. I will die. I will be alone and half forever.

I blinked, confused. A half-formed line of thought had struck me, and I had almost grabbed it, only for it to disappear instantly. I spent a few more moments hoping to remember, but I had to allow my curiosity to pass. The volatile nature of reflection left me frustrated.

"I know," I said, sighing and observing my wrinkled fingers. I had stayed in the water for too long already. "You're aware that it hurts. You made me this way with a full human conscience... At least you care."

Joker seemingly squirmed with discomfort and quietly repeated his prophecy-like-advice before fading away. "The dead girl was a warning."

It appeared that those words were, after all, directed at me. I just couldn't figure it out.

Did that simply guarantee my demise... or was it something deeper? Was it Greek Mythology style twisted - the more you avoid the more you provoked the predicted outcome? Or was the answer simply lost with the dead?

I clicked my tongue. Philosophy was starting to get to me, driving me insane.

A loud knock intercepted my thoughts. "Are you done?" my father called.

"Yeah... I guess so." I replied, pulling myself out of the bath aimlessly.

Since when had my head felt so empty? I pondered, sensing a shift from my trance-like nature when I stepped out of the bathtub.

It then occurred to me that it was weird that I could feel and see just fine. Maybe Joker granted me a day without Doll's influence.