Bittersweet [One Week]

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY ONE: ROSS HURON

and this is how the world ends

ROSS HURON: My name is Ross Huron. I'm supposed to tell you about the war and how I saved the world. Yay me. Guess what? There was no war. There were a few moments of total confusion and then a government's own army overthrew them and the sane adults that were left kind of looked at us and said “My dear cheese muffins, there's been a war and this little fourteen year old kid appears to have saved us. Since we have no other past time, let's make him a national hero.” Yeah. That was me, the fourteen year old kid. I'm fifteen now. I want to forget it ever happened. Olivia has this quote – she's the journalist who's recording this -- “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” So I'm supposed to tell all these people that I don't know and will never meet about the war. Did I mention there was no war? Yeah. That's it. I'm done.

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ROSS HURON: Olivia, I don't want to talk about it.

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ROSS HURON: Fine. You don't know anything. You don't know how it was. Then I'll explain it. There were some people who decided they were going to be dictators, and they called themselves The Gods. Anne and Joseph (who are convinced that I should call them 'Mother And Father' – like that'll ever happen...) say there's only One True God, but if He's as bad as the last ones then I think I'll quietly choose to believe He doesn't exist. They rose to power with an interesting combination of politics and Large Weapons of Destruction, and they became Almighty Rulers of the Entire Country. Which was bad. Anyhow, no one really went against them, because they had this really big huge army. But there wasn't a draft for it, and no one ever signed up. No. The Gods took everyone they didn't like very much; the poor, the weak, the unemployed, the people who dared to rebel against them, and everyone who didn't have anywhere else to go, and had them play games against one another. Not just games – like checkers or chess or whatever, but something called the Game. Whoever won got to go into the Gods' army, and whoever lost was killed. It's a hard game. It's full of strategy and whatever, and we used to play it in the school yards until they banned it.

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ROSS HURON: Now you want to know how I, small child of fifteen (yes, I'm so young and innocent), got named as the national hero of the world. Yeah, well, I'm an empath. And apparently the rest of you aren't. I can sense emotions and you can't. Yeah, well, your brains probably aren't advanced enough or something, because trust me, it's loud and clear. Also, I have 'second sight'; the ability to see when others can't. Kind of like a cat's night vision, I think. Sometimes I use it in my sleep, and my eyes are closed but I can see. It makes for interesting dreams.

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ROSS HURON: My parents. Right. Anne and Joseph asked about this too. My mom's not dead. She ran for it. I don't know where she is. I don't have a dad. It's just me and my brother and my mom. Except I don't know where my mom is, and my brother's somewhere in the North. Anyhow. The Gods wanted me. Because I'm an empath, because I can see in the dark and they can't, because I got good grades in school, I don't know. I ran away from home after they took my brother when I was twelve. My mom told me I needed to get ready to run, but I wasn't ready, and they took my brother instead of me, and I ran like the coward I am.

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ROSS HURON: Yeah, Olivia, your condescending look isn't helping. I think we can all assume I'm a coward.

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ROSS HURON:Shut up. Your pity isn't going to make me feel any better. Whatever. Can I stop? I don't think I can handle any more of this. But I'm not going to cry. Right. Not going to cry. Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'll do it again tomorrow. Just not again today.

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ROSS HURON: Thanks.

unintelligible voice, transcript ends

TRANSCRIPT, DAY TWO: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: Hi. It's me again. Ross. You know me. Boy hero and whatever.

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ROSS HURON: I broke into a Gods' building. I was hiding with rebels for about a year, and then they decided that I wasn't useful to them anymore. They sent me on a quest, one that I was too naive to decline and one that I was unlikely to come back from. In their own way, the rebels were just as ruthless as the Gods. However, the Gods tried to kill me in cold blood; the rebels just quietly sent me off to almost certain death. So I cut myself on a piece of glass accidentally, and it bled a lot...and I don't really like blood. So I fainted. The end. No more story. I'm dead. This is just a ghost talking to you from the afterlife, and the Gods still reign and you're just part of a major mind-fu---

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ROSS HURON: What? I'm just telling them the truth.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY TWO (continued): ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: Yeah, yeah, yeah. So obviously I'm not dead, and you can believe whatever you want about ghosts. Olivia says I've got to do this. I asked why, and she said it was My Duty to Help My People. Yeah, well, when did they become my people and why is it suddenly my duty to help them?

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ROSS HURON: Fine. So I'll tell them the worst experience of my life. Being captive to the Gods and my only company being a girl who didn't want to love me.

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ROSS HURON: I woke up in a lot of pain. I was lying down, and there were things attached to my arm, which freaked me out for a few seconds, until I recognized the sharp scent of blood and turned away from it, and saw The Girl. Oh, and three seconds later I realized I was in an insane amount of pain. Well, joy.

“You're awake,” says the tall figure. She's twenty, maybe twenty-one years old, shy but quick, mild concern written all over her. Not enough to care but just enough to be sweet. There might have been something after that – I'm sure I saw her lips moving – but I blacked out again and when I woke there was slightly less pain and I felt like I could actually think through the aching in my limbs.

“What's your name?” That's the first thing I say. I may have also murmured something about Are you an angel? in my pain-induced state, but if I did I deny everything.

“Aryan Feli. People call me Ari. What's yours?” I blink. She sounds kind of like a talking doll. Is she a robot and I haven't guessed it yet?

“...You already know my name.”

“You're Ross Huron.” ....So why'd you ask in the first place, then? Maybe she was a popular idiot in high school.

“No, it's actually Henry Greene, and this has all been a horrible mistake.” Yeah, that's my wonderful dry wit and sarcasm, helpful for anything even in the face of Great and Terrible Danger.

“Aren't you too young for sarcasm?” What a stupid question. Maybe she is a robot. I heard that they can make robots to look exactly like real people now.

I raise an eyebrow and say something cocky, self-sure, and arrogant. She was probably told that I had killed dozens of people, but none of that was my fault. For some reason she blushes and turns her back on me. I raise myself up onto my elbows to look at her. I know my face is contorted with pain and I close my eyes briefly. I test my second sight and catch her staring at me, tendrils of curiosity caught in her emotions. “Staring is impolite,” I mention reflexively.

“Oh – I --” Well, she can't be a robot. Robots can always string a proper sentence together. Must be an idiot. She's still hot.

“Yeah? Did you forget why I'm here? Maybe because of my amazing mental abilities which far out pass your meager brain power.” I've opened my eyes now, but they're narrowed in momentary sheer annoyance.

“Erm, well, I ---” Insert shallow comment here.

Exhausted for even this long, I let my elbows collapse under me. Snorting and trying to fall back asleep gracefully, because if I don't I'll just conk myself unconscious, which will make me look stupid and possibly gain the lower hand, I mutter something about sandwiches and mentality and quite possibly the imploding percentage of hot cocoa. Then everything goes black, and I don't remember anything else.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY THREE: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: Ari's sitting on a three-legged stool by my bed. Briefly I wonder how it can balance plausibly, and then I comment abruptly “You know, I always pictured a lot more people around my death bed.”

Ari's head snaps up from her book. “Why did you ever think that?”

I shrug one shoulder – my left arm is covered in bandages and I'm guessing is the reason I'm in a death bed in the first place. “I dunno. I guess I always thought that a few people liked me in the world. Instead, all Fate ends up giving me is a girl who's been assigned to make sure that I don't kill myself by the Gods themselves. I suppose that should be a tribute to my memory, that I was prominent enough to be hunted by the Gods at all.”

“The fact that you got caught in the end erases any redeeming quality that might give you with fellow rebels. Who'd be stupid enough to break into a Gods' building?” Mm, maybe she's smarter than I originally thought.

The next words I whisper – I'm not sure if I want her to hear me or not. “Maybe I wanted to be caught.”

But she hears me and she laughs. “Who'd believe that. That's a death sentence.”

I raise a single eyebrow. “Yeah. Whatever you say.”

“Yeah. Whatever I say. So don't kill yourself, Ross Huron.”

When I look up again, her face is hidden by her long black hair, and she's hunched over her book. I turn away from her, hissing almost silently as my left arm twinges, and go back to sleep.

The sound of her laughter haunts my dreams.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY FOUR: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: I know I'm being weak. I know it shouldn't affect me like this. I'm choking on my own blood and my head is in my hands, trying to block out the pain. I know it shouldn't affect me like this. I know I shouldn't let my tears show. I know I'm weak. But it hurts, d****t.

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ROSS HURON: I know this is going to be heard by people everywhere. I'm just telling you what happened. And what happened hurt. And so I swore. So shut up and just let me talk, okay?

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ROSS HURON: Ari looks up. Her glasses have been pushed to the edge of her nose, and as she looks up, she slides them up again. She glances at me, sees the tears, sees the blood, sees the sheets matted with it, sees my head in my hands, trying desperately not to cry. Her concern coats everything, its sticky-sweet pity dripping off it all.

“Ross?” she asks, her voice high and panicked.

“That's my name, don't wear it out,” I say, blinking back tears, spitting blood.

“Ross?” she asks again redundantly. “Ross, is anything wrong?”

I think that wins the Stupidest Question of the Year Award. Anyone want to second that nomination? “Well, of course not,” I say, slightly bitterly. My back is to her. I don't want her to see my face. “It's not like I'm bleeding to death, mortally injured, prisoner of the Gods or anything like that. It's not like I'm an empath or anything. And it's not like I believe your pity is real.” I know that the last sentence is laced with bitterness.

“Ross,” she whispers, touching my shoulder. And I break.

“NO!” I'm yelling it, and I see her shocked face in the instant that I turn around. “No! Don't touch me!” I've turned away, afraid of my own weakness, but I hope that she can't hear the tears that lace my voice when I speak next. “I can't block his thoughts – they're too strong. I don't know who he is. His thoughts – they're all so horrible. I mean, they're not horrible thoughts, but memories – memories --- Ari --” I shouldn't have used her name, shouldn't have told her anything. It hurts, d****t. “I can't feel memories.” My shoulders shake and I can feel the tears dribble down my nose. I shouldn't be this weak. I shouldn't have broken.

“Ross? Ross?” I can't say anything. I won't be able to. When she puts her arm around my shoulders, I let her, I let her wipe away my tears, listen to her murmur sentences which seem to have no real purpose. I want to tell her that I shouldn't be this weak, but I cannot speak. I think I eventually fall asleep in her arms.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY FIVE: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: Okay, okay, so I had nightmares. Horrible, awful ones. I don't want to talk about them. Can I go now?

unintelligible voices, transcript ends

TRANSCRIPT, DAY SIX: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: I wake up denying the fact that I've heard told to me a thousand times. “I'M NOT INSANE!”

“I never said you were,” replies Ari mildly, looking up from her hand held computer.

My head aches, memories bounce in my consciousness, and my face is streaked with tears and sweat.”Are you feeling better?” she asks quietly, as though we've shared a secret.

“Why wouldn't I be feeling perfectly alright?” I ask her. Please don't say anything else. I don't want to remember it. Please.

“Last night, you said something about memories --” Oh, what, so now I have memory loss myself?

I cut her off. I don't want to hear the end of her sentence. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“The memories?” she says again. Please shut up. Look, I even said please. I can't handle this right now. I'm not going to break again.

“I never said anything like that. Shut up.” See. I even said it aloud. You can take a hint, can't you? Please tell me you have an IQ above three.

“But --”

“SHUT UP!” No. I don't want to break. But instead I'm ... falling apart. No. Can't do this. I have to handle it. Oh, Gods, please don't let me cry again. I turn away from her as though I can hide them. Like that worked last time. Flashes of pain – fear – dark blood running from a very deep cut – fear – pain – fear... She touches my shoulder and I instinctively jerk away and scream. A woman's high voice – laughter – and then a woman's scream – dark tears – dark blood – where's the light switch, d****t? -- fear...

She stumbles back a few paces, hands snapping back as though she's burnt them. “I --”

“I don't let anyone touch me! I won't let you hurt me!” I don't know where the words are coming from. I'm not even sure if they're mine.

“Ross ---?”

“Damn you!” You've made me lose control, you let me break, you held me when I wept; I can't trust you, I know that I can't trust you, but I want to, you don't know how much I want to... Sweat and tears are running down my face and I don't know how to stop it. broken glass – get away from me – the sharp taste of my own blood, metallic and sweet at the same time-- something breaks – blood dripping ...

“Ross!” Anger takes over the fear. I guess there's still some of me left after all.

“Shut up! You don't deserve my true name! You're just a bloody spawn of the Gods, and you're going to do a report on me after I'm dissected, maybe on the different wavelengths of my brain – maybe that's what causes me to be so insane, whacked-out, the word you're searching for is abnormal, isn't it?” I smile brutally, know that I'm hurting her, but at this point I don't care. “I can read your mind. I know your every thought. Don't you remember? You used to have a cat named Oscar, his fur was green and black, but he was different from all the other cats so you went and put him to sleep. You never loved him! You never thought about maybe who he was. Maybe they did a genetic experiment on him after you were done with him. And you didn't care, did you? You never loved him!” I know that I'm making things up, know that she doesn't believe them, but at this point I don't care. I lash out at her, standing so close to the bed, reach her arm, dig my fingernails into her soft flesh until a few drops of blood shows. They stain my palms, leaving sweet bloodstains.

And there is bitter silence.

I think I'm more afraid than I was before.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY SEVEN: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: She backs up, shock and a faint trickling of fear coloring her. Then my voice, etching the silence. “I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...” Whispering rough words. “You're afraid of me, aren't you.” Repeating what I said before, as though it will make it all better -- “I'm sorry... I'm sorry,” What the hell, they're the magic words. But they're still empty and hollow and I don't know if they make any sense as I choke them out. No ... what have I become? What am I doing? -- the sharp taste of my own blood, metallic and sweet at the same time – I try to get up, ripping the IV from my wrist, have to ignore the pain, have to ignore the blood, only knowing that I have to leave here before I hurt her anymore, have to leave.... “No,” I gasp, the word dragged out of me like a scream. “NO!” I slump against the door – of course it's locked, really, what did I expect? -- sinking to my knees, looking away from her, ignoring it. Maybe if I ignore it long enough it will go away. I don't protest when she drags me back to bed, don't protest as she whispers those nonsensical words in my ear and I know that she lies when she tells me that it's going to be alright (please don't hurt me anymore) but I don't want to contradict her.

I fall asleep again, in her arms.

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TRANSCRIPT, DAY EIGHT: ROSS HURON

ROSS HURON: Olivia, I'm not doing this anymore.

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ROSS HURON: I don't care what you do to me. I don't want to remember.

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ROSS HURON: I'm not going to. And I'm not sorry.

wishing for water, broken glass -- half-drowned screams -- love -- all I wanted -- fear -- pain -- dark blood pooling -- the sharp, tangy, metallic taste of my own blood, somehow sweet and bitter at the same time....

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project ROSS HURON has been terminated
experiment ROSS HURON was not cooperative

and this is how the world ends
not with a bang but a whimper

Reviews

[allonsy_doctor]

this is really good! It's funny you used Olivia... thats my name... haha great!