What If Just...

8 Aiden

I don't believe a word she says.
This girl has no idea who she is dealing with - I can feel the lies a mile away: it is as distinct to me as the smell of gasoline.

For a while I'll let Vivian stay assured she was able to convince me.

I shouldn't indulge her desire - it's ruinous for people like her.
I've seen Martyrs go wild: they got drunk, got high, broke all imaginable and unimaginable rules, trying to catch up, free from the pain and punishment.

Leaving her here means taking responsibility.
It means spending all the time trying to babysit her as if she is a child who doesn't know life.

No, I refuse to subscribe to this shit.

I need to find the right words for her.

"Vivian...no offense, but you'll need to be constantly looked after here until you get used to, being around 24/7. I just can't afford it. Do you realize you need to live somewhere, eat something? You have no documents, no clothes. How will you get a job?"

I say this and look carefully into her face to catch some emotion.
The problem with Martyrs is they've been taught to suppress their feelings for too long. Mostly, they themselves don't understand what kind of emotions they experience.

To somehow help her open up, I go from afar.

"Tell me, what are you feeling now?"

She looks at me uncomprehendingly with eyes of the color for which in the Middle Ages she would undoubtedly have been recorded as a witch and burned at the stake - dark green with a barely discernible transition to brown around the pupils.

It takes an effort to look into them, since the girl looks almost everywhere, just not at me.

I understand she is uncomfortable, so I try to be as courteous and friendly as possible.

Vivian takes a deep breath, as if hoping it will help her sort herself out.

"I'm feeling...lost," she says in a barely audible voice and decides to look up at me.

There is something in her that makes me want to help. I know firsthand what it means to be lost, devastated.

What if just to put aside the notorious selfishness?

It seems to her she is here for a reason. Well, I don't believe in such nonsense as fate, and I honestly think she is here just for nothing.

I don't want to upset her, but I don't find any common sense in leaving her here.

"You can take your time. I'll wait while you eat, and then we'll go to the place where we met yesterday. Your clothes are already in the dryer, you'll be able to change soon."

The atmosphere in the kitchen is suffocating.
I don't think either of us can swallow a piece in front of each other.

I get up carefully from the table and go to check my guest's things.
As I thought, they are already completely dry.

Looking at the clothes, for some reason it seems to me that the girl is originally a little more in size than she is now.

She looks unhealthy: apparently, she has been eating poorly and stressing out much lately and it caused her to lose weight.

These thoughts make me go back to the kitchen and check how her breakfast is going.

I offered her literally everything I could scrape together in the fridge.
I hope out of all this practically nothing she'll be able to choose at least something to her liking.

There is no one in the kitchen, the plates on the table are untouched.

She didn't eat. At all.

For some reason I don't get, I'm starting to get angry.

"Have you decided to starve yourself?" I throw to her, flying into the room.

She is obviously taken aback by my tone and sudden appearance, but doesn't hesitate to answer.

"I have no appetite."

I'm not going to argue with her. If she wants to starve herself to death, that's her business.

I put her things on the bed silently and go back to the kitchen to make myself a coffee.
The stronger the better.

Despite my inexplicable indignation, I decide to take the sandwiches to the car while Vivian changes clothes.

At the very least, I'll eat them, because now I don't want to look at the food either.
For a while, I'll have enough of what I've been nibbling on while cooking.

Upon reaching the apartment, I see Vivian at the door.

"I'm ready," she says meekly and walks past me to the exit.

I can see she is almost resigned to her fate.

The girl tries to put a brave face, to walk more confidently, so as not to show weakness.

I feel like a bastard when we both find ourselves in the narrow space of the car and I see how she turns away, as if she is disgusted by the very sight of me.

Excellent. Let her be angry, hate me - all this is just to my advantage: maybe she won't want to stay here any longer.

I start the car and drive off. The trip will take not more than half an hour.

I haven't decided yet whether to get Vivian out at our meeting place and leave or guide her a little deeper into the forest.

It shouldn't be dangerous in daylight...

Okay, I'll decide given the situation.

The air is literally heated with tension, so I decide to turn on the radio.
I try to choose the station where the most neutral music is playing, so as not to provoke Vivian in any way and not to put pressure on her feelings.

She is still turned away from me.

Last night in the car she couldn't see the surroundings, now in the light of day the opportunity is open.

I wonder how much what she sees here is different from her world? And is it different at all?

What happened to her that she so desperately wants to stay among strangers?

Vivian gives the impression of a well-mannered and serious girl – I don't think she committed any crime and is now hiding from justice.
Although, they say, looks can be deceiving...

To be honest, I assumed she would start crying and asking not to take her away, to give her a chance at a new life, but she just keeps silent and looks out the window.

What's on her mind? Maybe she doesn't want to stay that much?

What if she really doesn't have anyone on the other side?

Falling out of my thoughts, I notice we have almost reached our destination.

I don't know why I decide to do what I do the next moment, which is to turn the car sharply in the opposite direction.

While common sense turns red and shouts furiously, without watching its mouth, in an attempt to get through, some deeply buried, almost lost part of me convinces that it'll be the right thing to do, and I trust it.