О чем не расскажет смерть | ✓

Chapter 11 WHAT'S YOUR NAME

Usually, when people meet someone new, they start asking questions about where they live, whether they have siblings, and what their hobbies are. But that was not the case for us. My companion didn't even know her own name or the island where she was serving her punishment. So I offered her to visit my island.

"I should warn you," I addressed her as we hovered in the air. "When you step onto someone else's island, you will feel all the owner's suffering and emotions. I want to caution you so that you understand what you're doing and where it could lead."

"But I didn't feel anything like that on the spider island," she replied confidently.

"Yes, I didn't either. Perhaps it was an abandoned island, or it never belonged to anyone. But if the island is inhabited, you will feel absolutely everything."

"Thank you, but it doesn't matter to me. This fact won't change my desire to visit your island. Whatever is there, even a giant spider," the stranger continued to fly confidently, and I followed her.

When our feet touched the ground, I felt all the suffering that I had to experience every time I arrived here.

To be honest, I really wanted my new friend to visit my island. To feel my pain. I didn't want her to suffer. I wanted to share my inner feelings, my suffering with her. Maybe it sounds wrong and selfish on my part, but I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing my pain with her. It would be interesting to see her, to know her perception of my island. As if I invited her to visit me. But the island is certainly not a hospitable host, but a monster that makes you suffer from the inside out. I wanted her to understand me correctly and not judge my actions.

Translation: The first thing I felt was a shiver running down my spine.

"Yeah, you get used to those feelings pretty quickly, but every time I experience them it's like the first time," the stranger said, shrugging uncertainly and giving me a shy smile, saying nothing about her own feelings.

"Are you saying you don't feel anything?" I asked. "When I was on other people's islands, I felt all the pain and suffering of the owners. Literally, all their feelings of pain and suffering became mine."

The stranger became even more embarrassed. She shrugged and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I understand what you're saying, but I don't feel that way. I've never felt any suffering here, none at all."

For a moment, I envied her.

"I wish I felt the same way," I sighed.

"Maybe it's because you can't imagine this place any other way. That's why you feel all these things. All feelings are just your thoughts, your attitude towards this island."

"If everything was like you say," I admitted there was some truth to her words. She made me think about it deeply.

"Tell me, did only my image accompany you after death? Did you meet anyone else here?"

"I didn't meet anyone else, only you," she said.

"That's very strange and unusual for these places."

"And have you met anyone?" I asked.

"I met many others like me, those who were serving their sentences on the islands. I met my emotions and feelings, they were literally in front of me," I answered. "I was even able to talk to some of them. Of course, not all of them were friendly to me."

"Why didn't anyone from the living accompany you? Did no one settle in your heart?"

"There's one person who's still there," I said. I saw the stranger's face change, she didn't like hearing that.