The Monster Within

What is Bacon?

"We should be nearing a town by tomorrow morning. We need to restock before we move on," Oberon said, squinting at the map in the firelight. They'd been riding hard for a week now. Hollis, twisting and snapping little twigs, nodded, her mind distracted. Oberon frowned at her, unsure how to stem the nightmares that plagued her every evening. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, set into her ashen skin, her nose covered in coppery freckles in thanks to the constant sun.

She'd lost weight, eating enough to feed a mouse when he offered her food, before drifting off like a phantom through the trees to be alone. He would wait until she fell asleep, wait until her nightmares began, before he wrapped her in his arms and listened to them. Most centered on her sister and mother, some around the woman she'd killed, and some around Oberon himself. By morning, he'd awake and slip away, lest she be even more angered at him for his unwarranted touch.

Sighing, he refolded the map, tucking it back into her pack, stomach growling. As much as he tried to coax any bit of protein into her, she'd refused. He felt guilty, now, eating when she wouldn't. Her eyes snapped up, glaring across the fire and into the darkness beyond.

"Why do you need to kill the person who created you?" she asked, turning her tortured eyes to his. Stunned, his spine went rigid, and he glared.

"That is none—"

"That is none of my concern, yeah, I know," she grumbled, defeated as she threw her twigs into the fire, sending sparks glittering into the night sky. He sighed, wiping a hand along his stubbly, grimy face.

"You may...ask questions of me, Hollis. Some I will answer, others I will not. Do not be disheartened if I choose not to share some things with you," he said, gauging her reaction. She peeked at him, eyes reflecting the glimmer of the fire. He hated talking of himself, finding most memories too painful or too boring. He would rather know more about the woman he'd become so possessive of.

"I am sure, if I asked you deep, personal questions, there would be some you would not like to answer," he said, leaning back against the rough boulder. She chewed her cheek, nodding slow in thought. It was quiet for some time, and Oberon took that to mean she was done speaking with him. He tuned into the horses, keeping a watchful eye on their camp, but no threats lurked in the black.

"Are you from the past?"

Came her small, timid voice. His eyes snapped back to hers, a thrill running through him at her curious face, her head quirked to the side. With a twist of a frown, he nodded. She perked up, then, back straightening and real fire igniting in her gaze.

"So you...died?" she whispered, and he could hear the painful edge to her voice; she felt pity for him. He didn't like it, but he'd given her his word to answer what he was comfortable with, and this question wasn't so bad.

"I am not sure if I ever really died."

His eyes watched her, his gaze intense and piercing. It was the truth; Oberon was a being not meant to die, ever. Only one entity could kill him, and it had done a gruesome job to ensure him and all like him perished.

"How?" she whispered, leaning in, her intensity off-putting.

"I will make you a deal, Hollis," he offered, and she straightened once more, lips parted as she nodded.

"The rules stand about your questions of me, but if I answer them each night, you will eat, and then we will retire to sleep together," he said. She blinked a few times, his offer tempting her. After a moment, she nodded. He reached into his pack, pulling out an apple and bag of jerky, tossing them to her.

"Eat," he commanded, chest light as she obeyed. He thought now of how to phrase his answer to her, glaring into the fire.

"When I knew I was to die, I was filled with...rage, so pure and potent. I think I held onto that so tightly that I..." he shook his head, glancing at her. Her mouth was full, but she'd ceased her chewing. With an audible swallow, she pressed on the matter.