A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 58: Studying Abroad - Part 2

I lie on my luxurious bed, thinking about what I did and why I did it because I'm unable to stop. I tell myself I had no choice but to kill Five, but there's a small part of me that doesn't believe that's true. I don't know what's true anymore...

Eventually, I gaze upon the fat book: The Great Book of Mogadorian Progress. I was forced to read it before. I hate to admit it, but part of me is considering looking at it again. It's not that I really want to—no, it's not that at all—it's just, I need to read something.

I used to read all the time back home, so often dad always got mad, always said I should've been focused on other things, like school, finding a part-time job, but books have really been my only source of freedom from the world. Books made me feel things I wouldn't usually feel—at least until I met John. Oh, how I hope he isn't mad at me for what I've done.

I stare at the cover of his Great Book, picturing my bookshelf almost perfectly still. I had books of all genres, up to fifty at least; some read, some unread, merely bought because I couldn't help myself. I had fiction, memoirs, poetry, but mostly fiction, ranging from horror to mystery to fantasy to sci-fi, even a book of romance or two. I had Stephen King, George Orwell, Raymond Chandler, Rupi Kaur, and many others. Not to forget Jeff Smith and Pittacus Lore, who basically started it all. I can recall how comfortable I was with my nose fixated in the pages of a book, flipping through one page at a time, every book offering a sort of peace to my mind. I want that again.

Flipping past the pages I already read, I jump ahead to volume two. I don't usually jump ahead, but I figure it'll be like starting from a random chapter instead of starting in the middle of one. I don't care about context. I need to read something that's black and white. "We do not begrudge the beast for hunting," I read aloud slowly, purposely, capturing every word, every syllable. "It is in the beast's nature to hunt, just as it is in the Mogadorian's nature to expand. Those that would resist the expansion of the Mogadorian Empire, therefore, stand in opposition to nature itself." I don't care about meanings. I just read. "Strength is sacred. Progress is sacred. But nothing is as sacred as knowing what could be." And: "Power is but a mere objectivity."

I read as if it's philosophy, but not one that is necessarily true. I read deliberately, unannoyed by the text or frustrated like I was, but calm, neutral, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, only reading what's there and continuing on.

I'm four hundred pages in when the doors whoosh, and I bring my feet down. "Sorry," I start when Setrákus doesn't. "I can bow. I just—I was tired... um, after everything," and that isn't all lie. My fight with Five took a lot out of me, but I don't want to sleep. I want to read.

"Not necessary," he replies, waving this away. "I came to inform you that food is set. I didn't expect you to take the initiative to read my Great Book."

"Oh. Thank you, Beloved Leader, but, um, I'm not hungry." I bend over the corners of the book hoping he won't be mad. "I'd rather stay here and read—if that's okay at least! If I need to, can I have just five more minutes before joining you in the Banquet Hall?"

Setrákus smiles. "Yes, of course. You may have as much time as you like to read the sacred text. If you aren't hungry, that's fine. Is there anything else you need?"

I'm about to say no when I realize there is something I want. "Do you have any paper? I—I'd like to take notes."

"Certainly. I will return soon." I nod a thanks and he turns to leave, but as the doors whoosh open again, he stops and adds, "Keep in mind: We'll be departing in an hour or two. Be ready by then."

"I will."

Setrákus returns in less than twenty minutes with a notebook and blue pen and sets it down on the desk. I hardly pay him much mind, too keen on finishing my current paragraph at the bottom of page four-hundred-sixty-six. "Thanks, Beloved Leader," I mutter.

He drops a bright red apple on top of the book and pats my hair. "I admire your dedication towards studying my text, but I highly suggest you eat something, dear, and rest a little too. You will need your strength for when we depart."

"I know, I will," I assure. "I'm almost done. Thanks."

He leaves my room to let me get back to my reading, so I do. By the time I'm onto "Volume Three: Advancements in Resources," I shut the book closed and put it aside, then open the notebook to a blank page. I don't write about anything I've read; I write in the form of a letter.

          Dear Mom and Dad,

          If you're reading this, it means something has gone wrong. I know I told you that I had to help the Loric, but things are different now. I've been through a lot and not all of it is good. I wish I didn't have to drag you into it, but you deserve to know. If you're reading this, well, hopefully it means that someone you can trust has carried it to you.

          I'm dead, and if I'm being honest, that's what really scares me.

          It's not easy writing this. I really wish I wasn't. But I am—because I'm scared. Whatever you've heard about me, I want you to know that I did the best I could. I never wanted to kill for him. I never wanted to join the Mogadorians or follow Setrákus Ra. I did what I thought I had to to survive. I know you won't believe that, but it's the truth. I didn't mean to kill Five. But God forgive me—if such a guy even exists—if you see me as a monster because of what I did, then I understand.

          I don't know what the future looks like at the time you're reading this, I just hope it's a better one, better than the one you lived before. I hope you have the choice to make the decisions you want in life. I hope you're safe and happy and healthy without threat. Because, really, that's what anybody could ever ask for. To me, it's the wisest decision anyone can make—to live that way.

          I don't know what else to write to you now, but I want you to know: I will never give up. Whatever I have to do with him, I won't kill anyone else. I'll figure out another way to get what he wants, and—it might not mean a lot anymore, but—I love you.

I sign my name at the bottom and leave it at that, then turn to the next page. I address my next letter to John.