024 Den’s Despair
I awoke with my head on Denrick's lap. Pain radiated through my shattered ankles. Den's star and my starlet glowed more dimly than ever before, but my unstarlet shined its darkness unswervingly, causing shadows of light to fill the crevices of the cavern.
I did not disturb Den's rest, but listened to his slumbering mind. Doubt tormented his subconscious and sucked him away from the God he served. I snuggled against his massive chest. Somehow, his presence made me feel safe even though I knew it was only a matter of time before our hiding place was discovered. Strange feelings filled me.
Woethief, I love Den. I loved Faithful, but Gemma stole him and then death stole him again. Might Den fulfill my craving for stability. Might he mend the tatters of my life and take Crystal as his own?
Conflicting thoughts countered my emotions.
Nyl, you do not know what love is. These feelings you have for Den are borne of desperation. No one has shown kindness to you, so you throw yourself upon the first decent man who comes along. Faithful didn't love you and Den could never love anyone but Thee'.
But he thinks I am lovely.
He called Thee' lovely. We are too broken to be loved! The sooner you realize that, the better off we will be. Time will heal me. I will be beautiful one day. My mind will heal. Desperation filled Nyla.
The existence of this argument proves that we are too broken. Whole people do not exist as two. you will not heal now that Theila is dead! Our only hope is that Crystal will have a better life than we have.
Nyl acquiesced to Woethief's logic. Woe always won. Denrick stirred and I moved away in shame. It wasn't right to lean on him without his consent.
With the dim light of his star, I scrounged for medical supplies and food. The only part of my body which healed in the night was my hands. I dragged myself along by my elbows to collect the ingredients for our breakfast.
Despite the hunger in Den's stomach, he touched no food. I devoured the simple fare. When I tried to coax Den to eat, his mind refused my touch. Grief and fear numbed him. He just stroked Thee's broken face incessantly.
I retreated to a darker corner of the cave to nurse my wounds and change my garments. Each foot was purple and thrice its normal size. I poured the stinging ointment liberally to ward off infection and bound my wounds. My unstarlet kept my tortured shrieks from reaching Den. Unconsciousness overtook me.
When I woke, I crawled to Denrick with a medical kit. He did not object when I cut away his shirt to survey his wounds. Six bullets were lodged in his chest and shoulders. Woethief guided me as Nyla revolted against the gory task. I sterilized a small knife and pincers with my starlet. Next, I extracted the bullets one by one from my friend. He felt nothing. My newly formed hands deftly stitched each wound closed. I cleaned them with the Den’s star.
“Den, darling. Please put this on,” I held a clean shirt out for him.
He did not respond, but continued in his trance-like state. With difficulty, I shoved his arms and head through the shirt's openings then realized that it was on him backwards. I didn't care.
God, please bring him out of this stupor. I need him. I cannot proceed alone.
Nothing important was happening. I would consume our supplies and would force Denrick to eat. He would chew mindlessly, but not emerge from his apathy. The stench of our waste was mingled with that of Theila's rotting flesh. Denrick would grow physically violent when I tried to remove her body to another cavern. Four days had passed. Our supplies would run out in another week or two.
Fear
Anxiety, doubt, aloneness, isolation, darkness, anger, loneliness, terror, dread were assaulting my mind over and over and over and over again.
What did I do to deserve this?
Infection was overtaking my ankles.
What did I do to deserve this?
Where is God?
Burning body. Pounding headache.
What does this pain mean?
Dysentery. Vomiting. Soiled garments.
Shame.
Did I bring this on myself?
Migraine! Migraine!! Migraine!!!
How escape from here?
Head trying to kill me.
Pain won't leave my head. Pressure will burst head.
Stench makes dizzy. Pass out.
Waking with gash on head.
Denrick was refusing to eat. Refusing mind touch.
Theila was dead nine days. No, not nine, ten.
Should I leave Denrick behind to die?
Fever worsening. Den sick too.
God give me strength?
Emptiness.
Fever has broken. Pain is lessening.
Still weak. Exhaustion. Sleep.
Den very sick. He has broken out of his numbness.
Nothing.
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