Ander - Part 5: Subchapter 52
52
It was an ugly knife. Nothing special about it. Just a plain hunk of wood and a piece of metal sticking out of the end, but Dorin couldn't stop staring at it. It was just...
"Wrong..." he whispered to absolutely no one. "Wrong, wrong, wrong..."
The blade was red from tip to handle. There was even some on the pommel. But it was wrong. He wiped it off, didn't he? Why was it all bloody again? Maybe he made a mistake? Maybe he only thought he wiped it off, but the blood has been there all along. Her blood. Ever since he...
No. Don't think about it. Just wash it away. Get it clean.
He poured some water into a clay bowl, spilling the freezing liquid all over the ground because his hands were shaking so badly. The water spun around a little, drawing tiny bubbles into the centre.
They popped. They disappeared. The water was still again.
The knife was dripping. How could it still be dripping? Shouldn't the blood be all dry by now? It happened... how long ago? At least eighteen hours. Almost a full day. But no, the blade was still red and dripping. He could still smell her on the edge. If he looked very closely, he could even see her in his own reflection, staring back with open eyes...
"Animal..."
Dorin dropped the knife into the bowl of water with a splash, jerking his hand back as if he had been stung by a black scorpion, its tail dripping with venom. The blood was coming off the blade in a red cloud, staining the water. He watched it spread, turning pink and hazy, and that was fine. It was coming off. He wasn't going crazy. It was just... intense for a while, that was all. He'd clean this knife, dry it off, and in the morning he would give it back to Wardo. That would be the end of it.
Dorin put his hand in the bowl and started to wipe the blade with his fingers, wrinkling his nose in disgust. There was something nasty about touching bloody water. It was warm and cold. It was sticky _and_slippery.
"Just get it done, just get it done, just get it done..." he chanted, rubbing his fingers up and down the metal, not even caring if he cut himself in the spreading murk, just as long as he could get it done.
He pulled the knife out and wrapped it in a raccoon pelt, drying it vigorously, rubbing away every last drop of blood water. He'd have to give this fuzzy thing away tomorrow, preferably to someone living way on the other side of the village.
He grabbed the handle, started to pull it out, then stopped.
What if her blood is still on the blade?
That's crazytalk. Pull yourself together.
_But what if? _
It won't be! It was a dirty knife, you cleaned it, you dried it off, just put it away so you can get some sleep!
But what if -
Dorin pulled the knife out of the pelt with an angry jerk.
It was clean. It was still just an ugly piece of wood with a sharp piece of metal sticking out of it, but at least it was clean.
It was clean.
Dorin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it whoosh out of him in a rattling sigh of relief. It was clean. The knife was clean. He wasn't going crazy. It was just a dirty knife, but now it was clean. Maybe now he could get some sleep.
Dorin opened his eyes.
The blood was back, covering every inch of the blade. The handle was absolutely saturated. Beads of crimson were dripping to the ground. Even his hands were drenched in it.
Animal...
Dorin dropped the knife, staring at his own bloody hands in disbelief.
This can't be real. This is a nightmare. Either that or I'm going crazy.
He could feel the blood. He could feel how unbearably hot it was. He could feel it seep through his fur, clammy and sticky. He could feel it coat his skin. It felt like... if he were to make a fist... he would just wring out the blood forever and ever... until he drowned in it...
Where did it come from? Was it Lana's blood? Did he not do a proper job of cleaning the blade he had used to end her life? Was that it? How could there be so much? Was the knife producing the blood somehow? Bleeding her dry from beyond the arfterlife? Or was it...
Dorin looked down at his hands again.
There were giant, ragged cuts in his wrists, gushing blood onto his lap. They went all the way around, like bracelets, and all the way down into the crooks of his elbows, flaying his arm open like red canyons. He could see the layers inside - the skin, the fat, the pulsing veins torn wide open...
Just like his mother.
"Did I do this?" he asked, his voice trembling. "This isn't what I wanted... This isn't what I wanted..."
You did this.
"No..."
Just like Mother. You couldn't stand it anymore. You had to get out, and there was only one way left.
"No! This isn't what I wanted!"
It's too late. It's already done. You can never take it back. You can never make up for it. You can never redeem yourself or find forgiveness. All you can do is bleed to death. Just like Lana.
"No... please no... I never wanted this... I never wanted any of this... I didn't know it would feel this way!"
Just like your mother.
"No!"
He tried to pinch the wounds shut, but they were too long and too deep. Blood splurted out between his fingers, unabated. He was sitting in a spreading pool of his own blood, so much blood... he could feel his heart racing, pumping and pumping even more through his sliced veins... he could feel himself becoming lighter, could see the tent start to spin around, fusing into a whirl of red and brown.
I'm dying... he thought, watching the colours fade into grey and black. I killed myself... I killed myself and now I'm dying... But I don't want to die! I don't! I -
Or do I?
"Dorin, wake up!" Thoka suddenly pulled the entrance to his tent wide open, his eyes bugging right out of their sockets. "Everything's gone to hell! Wardo wants you to - Oh, you're already awake. Good. Grab all your hunting gear and meet us by the cage as quick as you can. We have to - Oy, Dorin? Are you really awake or have you taken up sleeping with your eyes open? Dorin? Hey!" He snapped his fingers briskly, looking quite annoyed. "Hey! Wake up!"
Dorin looked down at his hands.
There was no blood. There were no crimson bracelets, no trenches in his arms. There was a Wolf's ear leaf where Hezzi had bitten into his right wrist, but nothing else.
"Dorin! Hellooo!? Are you in there!?"
The knife was in a bowl of water, but the water was clear.
There was no blood anywhere.
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