In the Abyss. In Purgatory

I awoke on my left side on the ground, under his tree. It was extremely uncomfortable, and I wondered how I managed to sleep. He had gathered large leaves and thatches of dried grass where I laid. I remember falling asleep on his chest last night, and that was all. I must have been exhausted. Even in my dreams, I am exhausted. It was morning. I heard birds chirping. I didn’t know what kind they were. Their tones were unfamiliar to me. Indeed, they must be small. Their tweeting was high-pitched, and there were many of them. The river sounds I’ve become familiar with - it probably was what helped me sleep. It was ataractic - that, and him holding me all night. I wondered if it was possible to will myself to stay in this place just a little longer. Reality always returns. And the truth for me at this time is unbearable.

I smelled something wonderfully delicious, and my stomach concurred with a grumble. I saw him a short distance away, sitting on a log, poking at the embers of a small fire. I sat up, staring at him, committing to memory the scene to add to my memory nook. I wondered if he could feel me staring, or was he pretending he didn’t notice. It’s been a long time, a very long time since I’ve been with him. And yet, it seemed we’ve only been apart for a few years. My stomach growled again, protesting that I wasn’t walking to where the food was. “Fine, I’m getting up,” I mumbled. I started to walk to him but stopped suddenly. Whatever creature he skewered on a make-shift spit had a long body with no noticeable limbs. My heart jumped for a moment, and I looked back at the tree immediately. The damn snake still wrapped on its branch, lazing and content. I sighed with relief.

Then I heard a burst of exuberant laughter coming from him. It seems he saw the worried look on my face and my checking quickly if his snake was still with its heart intact and beating. He motioned me to join him, still laughing. I felt silly and somewhat embarrassed. 

“I named it Ivy,” he said matter of factly - pointing to the snake still happily lounging on the branch of his tree. I wasn’t sure whether to feel offended, but the expression on my face must have suggested so. “Don’t be offended. The snake has been my only companion since I’ve been here.” It follows me everywhere in this place, and it protects me. It warns me when there’s danger.” I wanted to ask how long he had been “here” and what “danger” he was being protected from, but I decided to leave the matter for another time.

I sat down beside him. He didn’t have his shirt on. It just dawned on me that I was wearing it - and nothing else. I felt my face flustered and asked him in an accusatory tone why he had undressed me during the night. “Relax,” he said. “I undressed you this morning and washed your clothes. They had mud, bits of blood, and whatever else on them.” Then he pointed to my dress and panty draped on top of a tall bush where the heat of the sun could dry them.

“You washed my underwear?” I exclaimed. He sighed, took a breath and was getting irritated. He threw me a glare. “Is there anything I haven’t seen before? Anything on your body, I don’t know? Any part I haven’t touched? You have a mole on your left shoulder where you liked me to kiss you. You have a scar just above your hips, on the right. You have a mark on the side of your…”.

“Stop!” I yelled. “I am sorry,” I said, realizing he was insulted that I acted like we didn’t mean what we meant to each other. “I love you, you know,” I said softly. I wasn’t sure if he heard it, but he didn’t respond.

I stopped talking and instead stared at the pitiful creature grilling in front of me. Whatever it was, it did smell rather delicious. That, or I was ravenous. I took the stick he was using from his hand and proceeded to spread the burning coals evenly across the cooking pit. “I, um,” I said softly, wanting to put an end to the unbearable silence. Clearly, I offended him. “I, um,” I started again, but I didn’t know what else to say. So we stayed reticent - glancing at each other once in a while.

I started to salivate from whatever it was he was cooking, so I decided to take the stick the poor creature was skewered in and taste the meat. “I’m sorry, whatever you are, but I am going to eat you,” I told its soul if it had any. I was in a dream anyway, and if I died from food poisoning, I am sure it was only in the dream. Or he could conjure up a doctor or a shaman, or a mangagamot to wherever we were, just like he conjured his tree, and I would be fine. I reached for the stick, but he held my arm. “It’s not cooked yet. You’ll get sick if you don’t cook it properly.”

“Oh! You can talk after all. I thought you’d gone mute,” I groaned sarcastically. He ignored my retort. “I’m sorry about the other day when I dragged you from the riverbed,” he said with pain in his voice. He traced the cuts on my legs, and I watched his face. He seemed heavily burdened. Although he didn’t look it, it appeared he’s aged a decade.

“That night,” he said. “I couldn’t be sure it was you. I’ve seen you here before, but it wasn’t you. Do you understand? I would never hurt you. You know that. This place, it plays with your mind, and if you’re not careful, you’ll go crazy.” I nodded. I didn’t understand fully, but I nodded because I sensed he finished talking about it. For now, at least.

“How long have I have been here?” he asked without looking away from examining my cuts. I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t utter a word. “Vy, how long have I been here?” he asked again.

“It’s almost Christmas, my love. You died on September 5th,” I said as calmly as I could muster. I stood up and walked away, heading closer to the river. I found a rock to sit on, just high enough that I could dip my feet into the water. I didn’t want to look back. I couldn’t bear for him to see me crying - again.