"I am sure there is some reason," the man commented.

The blood was already drying on the floors. It seemed as if that would have provided reason enough, but it failed to do so. Formerly a legionary, formerly a representative of the ham-fisted right arm of a judicious government ... and he found that seeing dead priests gave him nothing more than a vague sense of satisfaction. He would have wondered why, but he was already quite certain that whatever reason there was had been masked behind walls of undefinable amnesia. It was insane to go dredging through memories he found strange simply to find one he knew would be absent. How he knew, he did not know. It was anther of the many confusing paradoxes he had been facing for the last several years. That it annoyed him to no end was, perhaps, merely another aspect of the person he had forgotten he was.

Even as he surveyed the corpses, though, he realized that she was entirely correct. If he had no legitimate reason to hold her—and without doubt he had no reason, for he would sooner die than contact government figures—it was probably better that he let her free. The dim light masked the expression on his face as he thought of that, but light would have shown it to be resentful, bitter, and full of all kinds of distaste. He found that he had no desire to free her, merely to watch her scamper away into some dark crevice and leave him alone once more. Alone with the madness, with the nothingness, totally alone ... he found restraining her against her will was infinitely more likeable a prospect. Therefore his arm stayed, his feet braced themselves against the floor, and he tried to think of another option that would keep him in company with another person.

Bargaining seemed to be a thing he could do. Would she be true to her word, though? He had not remembered it when he first began sharing his life with the insanity, but lies and deceit seemed to be second nature, or even first nature, in most beings. Either as a defense mechanism or a way to subjugate him, he had met others who seemed more intent upon ruining his life through lies than they had on improving their own through work. Was she one of those? He could offer her little. There was nothing he had to give, short of her freedom, and it was her freedom that she wanted in the first place. He frowned in the darkness and thought carefully. It came to him slowly, just as all ideas seemed to, though he had no idea why his own thick-headed nature was so bothersome. None of his memories seemed to indicate that it had bothered him in the past.

"If I let you go," he asked, his voice hopeful and awkward, "you should stay. You will stay. I will let you go if you stay. Please."

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[Graphics by Me.]

[The signature links to Aleksandr Sokoll.]
["I believe in sleeping." ~ Bruce Lee]