Owen Changes His Mind

10. To Change A Jaguar's Spots 1/3

Owen looked up when he heard someone coming down the ladder. He'd taken to talking to the wine bottle, but he didn't want anyone to know that. "A visitor," Owen murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "Be cool." He shouldered the backpack like a shield and sat down on the bed. He would have sat on the floor, but there were bits of fermenting apple all over.

Owen looked through his long bangs and saw Red, sauntering down the long hallway to his cell. "Heyyy, uh, Owen," Red hedged. Owen squinted. Was Red acting weird? Why would- what reason would Red have for acting weird?

Owen let the feeling of unease slide away. He drew up his defenses. "Red," he intoned, looking at the man.

"How are ya, buddy?"

Owen focused on Red, his gaze steady. "Fine." His arm moved over the backpack as if to protect it.

"Yeah," Red said, looking around at the fermenting apple bits on the floor, "It certainly looks that way." Both men got quiet and the awkward silence grew.

"Tch. What do you want, Red?" Owen finally exhaled, intense but cringing. "To interrogate me? To beat me up? To tell me I deserve this?" I do deserve this, Owen didn't add. I'm a useless broken husk of past violence that no one wants or needs.

"Uh. No," Red automatically denied. "No, I just came to check in on you. You know. For Apo."

Owen flinched. It was a whole body flinch, unhidable, bodily cringing away from Red and the door and A- everything that had gone wrong in Owen's life. "They won. What else do you want from me," Owen demanded. Red was silent for a moment. When Owen finally peeked through his hair, Red was studying him.

"I don't know what happened in the maze, Owen. But you've changed. You're both different. You're.." he shook his head, probably in disappointment. "Apo is grieving for you. I hope you know that. I hope you understand it."

"If you're hoping to see me grieve too, you're mistaken," Owen growled in a good imitation of being angry. He was cold and shaken, and he felt so guilty and sad that he was beyond tears at this point.

"Yeah," Red murmured, glancing around the rotting fruit on the cell floor. "They don't need to see you like this. At least clean up after yourself, man. It's starting to smell like alcohol. But not the good kind." Red turned and walked away.

Suddenly, Owen didn't want to be alone. "Wait!" He called, desperation seeping into his voice. Owen cast about for something to say, anything. "What do you mean we've changed? I've changed? Th-they've changed?"

Red stopped. He turned, looking over his shoulder at Owen. "You can't even say Apo's name, can you. Apo," Red said, emphasizing the name. "already forgave you. For everything. They're the only one who has. And you..." Owen could feel Red's judgemental scrutiny roam over the cell, the backpack, and Owen, as if his soul was naked. He shuddered. "You don't deserve someone like them. But that's just how good they are. They don't see how you've changed, who you are. They only see what you were before. Apo valu-"

I value you as a friend, Owen.

The auditory hallucination drowned out whatever Red said. Owen didn't care anymore. He deflated, sagging. Then his shoulders started to shake. Owen was crying. His eyes were dry but the emotion was there. He was a dried out husk.

"Are you laughing?" Red sounded offended. Then Owen did start to laugh. He couldn't stop. He was laughing and crying in despair and he couldn't stop.

"Red," Owen gasped between a laugh and a sob, "Do you think I could change?"

"You have changed enough," Red almost scoffed, folding his arms.

"What's going to happen to me?" Owen cried, hugging the wine bottle to his core. Red didn't answer right away. "So I'll just stay here until I die?"

"Maybe," Red hedged. "What you tried to do, what you believe, that's hard to come back from. You tried to murder Apo. Twice. And from what I hear, the only thing you're sorry about is that you failed."

Owen finally turned towards Red, desperation in every cell in his body. "Please, Red. Please. I don't want to die here. I don't want to be- Come on. I want to be me. Who I was, before I remembered. Red," Owen started, then jumped off the bed. He clutched the bars of his prison with one hand and the wine bottle with the other. "I don't want to hunt demons anymore, Red, please, please believe me. Please!"

Red stepped back from the bars. "So that's what you remember."

"Red!"

Red turned his back to Owen, looking at the door. Owen waited in tense silence. He felt like this moment would make or break him. Finally, Red spoke. "Do you think that demons deserve for you to hunt them?"

Owen froze. Yes. No. Some of them. Not Apo, even though they were a liar and a coward. (Were they?) Guts deserved... did they? They hadn't struck Owen, only starved him. And they wanted Owen to suffer. (Wasn't that fair?) Krow definitely deserved to be... (because it defended itself?) Surely Rasbi, who had done the same as Owen, deserved to die. (Did Owen deserve to die?) Rasbi tried and failed to kill someone she'd thought of as a friend; never mind that he'd killed her kin first- he was just better at the game of war. (Even though he'd been thrown away?) Owen's thoughts refused to settle. He didn't know right from wrong anymore.

"I've heard enough. Your silence is deafening," Red declared, then walked away.

"No! Red!" What was the question again? "I don't- I mean, I believe, no, wait wait wait! Red!!!" But Red was gone.

Owen screamed in frustration. He set the wine bottle on the bed and started punching the walls. When his knuckles started bleeding, he started thinking again. Cataloging strengths and weaknesses. But this time, for the first time, he considered everyone in the clearing- humans and angels, too.