38. War
War
The ground vibrates.
It is not of the earthworms or the bugs. This rattles my teeth, shakes my bones. The creatures feel it too—they slither away, desperate to avoid the cacophony above.
I cannot slither away.
I am crushed by dirt and my own worthlessness. I’m held immobile as the world outside implodes.
Then comes the blood again, just as I worried it would.
I was so close to death. I thought it would at last claim me, let me free of my suffering.
There is no freedom from this.
My suffering begins anew.
The blood is like before, but the pain is worse this time. As feeling returns to my legs, to my arms, I feel it there. Limbs ripped off, exploded, destroyed. Bodies in pieces, littering the ground.
The blood is so noxious I hallucinate what goes on above. There are big carts, there are guns that fire rapidly, there are explosions all around me.
There is more blood this time. It doesn’t stop for months. It’s not enough to restore me, I have starved too long for that. It is just enough to prolong my punishment once more.
I have not suffered enough.
I do not understand the seriousness of my existence.
When the vibrations stop, so does the blood.
I close my eyes once more, only to be awoken by more vibrations. Louder, more violent. The surface is closer.
I should have had the man bury me deeper. I should have known I would fail at this, just as I have everything else. I cannot even die.
The blood comes again, and with it the pain. This is deeper than the first two times. Fear, pain, betrayal, hatred. The emotions slide down my throat against my will. I cannot close my lips to them, I must experience them as the dead did.
That is the cost of drinking the blood of the dead.
I share their misery, though they don’t know it. By the time their blood reaches me they’ve been long dead, unaware a companion in death lies beneath them.
Unaware their death keeps me alive.
The explosions stop.
The blood dries in the soil.
I turn my head to the side so when the blood comes again, I cannot drink it.
I cannot slither away.
But I can refuse.
I will die this time. I am not letting anyone else decide but me.