I finally unlock the door and welcome Humphrey with a crux.

  He bows down like a handsome prince and greets me by cooing “M’dy;” as he makes his way inside and proceeds to drop onto the kitchen chair like a soggy bag of turf.

  I roll my eyes, as per usual. This has become somewhat of a routine, along with only ever referring to other people by their surnames or only referring to our parents as the mother or the father. Only such little things to make our lives less serious and depressing.

  I close the door and make my way into the kitchen to get everything ready for breakfast while thinking to myself.

  I know that Humphrey has his issues and I wish that, just like about everything else, he could just flush them down the toilet, or that I could do it for him.

  > ( So although you seem to have your difficulties sometimes you still appear to be very close? )

  Yes. We have been close ever since I lost my voice. It's hard to keep up the facade of only being your average schizo when in reality, you’re a schizo with sacred powers or something, and once my mouth was sealed I was in a lot of social trouble. I’m rather lucky to have him.

  Without Humphrey I would already be dead, in the eyes of an average person at least. I probably could survive on my own but that doesn't mean that I want to. Shut in and hidden somewhere in an old house near the woods, without my parents, no income, and mentally impaired. It gets boring easily, and with boredom comes loneliness.

  But death doesn’t scare me.

  Death is the only thing that is inevitable and hopefully always will be. You cannot avoid it forever, one day your life will come to an end through one way or another. It’s the one thing I always found a strange kind of comfort in, knowing that there is an end to all this. Though the average human mind actively refuses to accept fate, we make pills or supplements in order to “live longer”, medicine is rapidly improving by every day in order to keep people alive and breathing although they are only to suffer for an extended of time, and anti-aging cosmetics that are solely superficial are developed at rapid speed basically everywhere in the world, all of which proves that death is something so deeply frightening, it's almost ridiculous.

  I can't help but smile faintly about the fears of regur people.

  > ( … What about his death? )

  His death? It’s my greatest and deepest fear.

  I grab the basket of bread rolls, a gss of flerkberry jam, the rest of butter that’s flying around in the fridge and the st two slices of cheese in the package, and carry everything back to the table where Humphrey awaits me. I pce down all the items on the table and his eyes wander from his cup to meet mine.

  “Are these all you got left? Guess we gotta go grocery shopping ter. How about your medication, do you still have enough for the rest of the week or are you running short on that as well?”

  I’m not sure to be honest. I haven’t taken them yet.

  “That’s alright. Wait until we’re back so you don’t start tripping when I’m out with you. I can only carry you that far, you know.”

  His hand sleepily reaches for a bread roll and he proceeds to cut it in half, spreading butter on each side before taking both the cheese slices… that greedy fuck. Next up he yoinks the flerkberry jam and spreads it on top of the cheese.

  > ( What the fuck? )

  It’s okay. He can’t show his psychopathic side in front of the rest of the town without putting his position of succeeding mayor at risk.

  Nobody would ever expect him to hang out with someone like me, let alone have such degenerate breakfast cravings. But that’s fine, he could be satan for all I know, he probably is, and yet I still keep him company whether he wants it or not. He's too deep in this now to get out.

  “I appreciate your reasoning with yourself about the weaknesses of my flesh.”

  You're welcome.

  I take another sip of my tea.

  “So about your inner monologue about death in the kitchen;” Humphrey mutters in between his bites, “gd to know that you won’t end up being the death of me.”

  I huff in amusement.

  Let's not jinx anything though. I already have more than enough intrusive nightmares as is.

  “Thinking of, any memories of tonight?” Humphrey asks, taking a sip of your tea.

  I hope you don't mind. But it would have gone to waste otherwise. So I think it's okay, but Humphrey quirks an eyebrow at my taken-aback gnce.

  I sigh and let my eyes wander toward the closest window, though it's not like I could see anything when looking outside.

  I vividly recall the day Dad brought home some wooden pnks, and proceeded to barricade the windows of our humble hut with them. A few leftover pnks still sit in the hallway, next to the staircase toward the basement.

  It's the st time I remember seeing Dad, but I know that I used to remember more than just that.

  Do you know what happened to Dad?

  …

  > ( …I don't. )

  Do you know what happened to Dad?

  Humphrey looks at me, a strange form of mencholy in his eyes.

  “...I don't.”

  ~~~

  “Alright, let me do the cleaning up. You just get ready so we can get groceries, okay?”

  Okay.

  I approach the staircase and head back upstairs. As I walk past my bedroom, I gnce inside. This window is the only one I can still look through, no wooden pnks hammered in front of it.

  …Might as well open it to let some fresh air in. The weather seems fine.

  I crawl on top of my tiny mountain of mattresses and hoist myself forward into my poofy bnket, but I must resist the urge to fall back asleep, so I keep crawling until I reach the other side of my bed, where the window resides, and open it.

  The scent of pine trees and fresh soil is blown into my face by a chill gust of wind.

  .;uO…

  A wall of bright white fshes in front of my eyes.

  Not again…

  I rub my eyelids and then blink rapidly.

  > ( What was that? )

  I don't know, but it happens quite often. I prop my head on my palm after my elbow meets the windowsill, and my eyes roam over the forest beneath the hill on which my cabin sits. From this angle, all the trees look well behaved and they all remain in pce, like they should.

  I raise my free hand and reach for the sun, swaying my fingers around this glowing golf ball in the sky, almost like I'm the one wielding it. The tips of my fingers brush over its rough surface, rough like a woven scarf that is slowly coming apart, before I grab it and drag it up higher, so that it's out of the tree's reach.

  .:○uUu○°?.

  There it is again. This white fsh before my eyes.

  “...You've been getting that a lot as of te.”

  I turn to face Humphrey who is standing in the doorframe.

  I got carried away again, my bad.

  “No it's fine, I just came here to see if there are any ptes or bowls in your room. Doesn't seem like it though. So I shall take my leave again.” He announces, and turns right around, his dark curly hair bouncing as he walks. I watch him leave and I finally withdraw from the windowsill. I ruffle the short fur of a nearby stuffie. One of my MysticPals, Echo Echidna. “My voice goes on forever!” They really managed to give this thing plush-spikes that look pointy.

  I slide off my bed and head back into the hallway, and close my door behind myself. My house isn't big. It's a mere two steps it takes to reach the bathroom that's located at the end of the hallway and enter it.

  I look into the eyes of the person before me.

  Teal meets teal, a pale face that almost disappears in the depths of messy bck hair, the bags under her eyes almost as dark as the purple sweater she's wearing.

  That's Violet.

  That's me.

  ~~~

  “Hurry up, put on your shoes.”

  Noooo…

  “Vile…”

  Nuh-uh!

  > ( What is going on? )

  “Oh let me answer this. Your headmate won’t put on shoes for fuck’s sake.”

  I bet a lot of people go out barefoot!

  “Perhaps at the beach but not in the woods.”

  You will have to carry me either way.

  “I hate that you are my only friend.”

  That’s not even true. He has a lot of friends, he has a social life, an income, he knows everything about himself he needs to know.

  I on the other hand know absolutely nothing and I am an outcast on every level possible.

  Nobody cares about me except for you.

  “All my retionships outside of this house are superficial and we both know that.” He shakes his head dismissively.

  “Just because you don’t want to be alive doesn’t mean other people don’t want you to live. And that's just because they do not know you exist.”

  Well, some people do know. They thought I moved away.

  I look to the side.

  I guess I did, in a way. It’s not like I was any more socially active before I became mute. I didn’t have friends, but I didn’t care because I had my parents. And then they disappeared.

  And then I disappeared.

  The curse of being stuck in my own head breaks for a second the moment Humphrey puts a hand to my cheek.

  “You’re still here. …But not anymore because we goin’ shopping.”

  And with a sudden grip I am lifted up, tucked under his arm.

  I wrap around his back like a sip of water, but I hold onto him.

  He yoinks the few things he brought along and makes his way outside.

  “Wait, you got your keys?”

  > ( They are still in your pocket. )

  Thank you!

  “Alright, then let’s get going.” Humphrey decres and starts moving along the trail to make his way back out of the forest. My gaze wanders across the moss and mud and the pebbled trail.

  I look up.

  The spruces still start to twirl the further I can see, melting into the glowing cone all the way at the top, eventually fading into golden fumes after their tips intertwine into a braid made of leafs and needles.

  > ( Sunrise… )

  “Yeah, it’s about 7 am. The store opens in thirty minutes.”

  That sounds terrible. Why do you love me so?

  “That I would love to know myself.”

  …

  “I guess you're appealing to the male gaze, no matter the crazy.”

  …You know, I can make the excuse of my thoughts not automatically being what I would actually say in situations like this but you just CHOSE to say that aloud.

  “Hey, you are the one who asked. t's not like I’m lying or anything.”

  > ( I must admit, don’t exactly understand your dynamic… )

  Don’t worry, that makes us three.

  “The more the merrier!”

  ~~~

  Humphrey lets me slide off his back once we reach human civilization.

  “Don’t over exaggerate it, we just got out of the woods and this is like the most rural street that's near the forest.”

  I suffer from a perceptual disorder, Julian.

  “And I suffer from the weight of your curves, Violet.”

  Not anymore.

  We walk side by side in silence. I can hear the wind hitting branches, wood cracking under the weight of animals and other forest dwellers. A big bird is circling its prey above a field and the clouds are iridescent.

  “Does this help?” Humphrey asks. “I mean you describing your surroundings to yourself. Does this help with the hallucinations?”

  A little bit. It helps me stay conscious of them. Which helps with reminding myself that it’s not true. In my world, you are the only thing that I know is true.

  He nods and reaches for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It might seem strange but I appreciate this. And I want you to know it.”

  I nod in acknowledgement.

  Humphrey wants to grow old. People capable of using magic can live up to 7 times longer than the average human. I could grow just as old as him, but will I even know that? Will I still be conscious enough to know or will my mind decay while my body is still in its glory? Is that even considered being alive? How many times must I have died before, I have had countless confrontations with vita-minima.

  Humphrey leads the way around the outer side of the town. Barely anybody crosses our path. Joggers, pet owners, very few workers. He drags me across one of the outside parking lots.

  “Okay so first things first, we gotta hand back in all the pstic bottles.” He decres as he starts feeding empty bottles to a hole in the wall.

  ...At least this was real.

  It’s called Pfand. Sounds funny, doesn’t it? I wonder where it’s from. Anyways it’s apparently a system where you get some of your money back if you return your bottles. Which is cool because that means we have a bigger budget to buy the funny drinks that make me all sparkly. Or some extra sweets.

  Or anything MysticPals reted, ideally plushies.

  Once he finishes feeding the wall he drags me deeper into the store. “Any preferences for this week?”

  Hm… Stew. What do we need for stew?

  > ( Onions, Carrots, Potatoes, add some oatmeal and some chicken maybe, and spices. I guess having read all these books was worth it when it comes to remembering recipes. Oh and don’t forget about all these cooking shows we watched! )

  You’re right. Wow, this is perfect, maybe I will actually manage to remember this whole week if I eat something different every day!

  “Then what do you want tomorrow?”

  …Stew?

  One step at a time.

  I follow Humphrey around all these isles full of things to buy. There were many things. And a lot of things that don't look like the other things. So there is a lot of many things.

  “Goodness, Vile… that’s fruit, okay? There are oranges, these are bananas and this is a papaya. All different shapes. Is the pseudo-agnosia so bad today?”

  I nod, pretending to have understood him. All his words looked so round and simir, it’s hard to distinguish them sometimes. I try to blend out the melody pying from the store's speakers. It only adds to the confusion.

  “Come on now, it’s okay.” He says like it’s w, and walks forward. I follow slowly, trying not to trip over my own feet. He walks toward another den in the wall, but it’s a lot bigger. And refrigerated. I start shivering.

  He reaches for the milk. “What type of cheese do you want?” I shrug in response.

  You’re the only one eating it.

  Humphrey proceeds to grab two packs of butter cheese, two packs of not-ham and a block of margarine. Salted.

  Good choice.

  The humming of the refrigerated shelf is about to drive me insane. What about you? You’ve been rather silent.

  > ( I’m trying to comprehend the way you perceive your surroundings. )

  Oh, yeah I’m sorry about that. I haven’t taken my meds yet. I usually do that after breakfast. But it will be okay for now.

  “Here, do you want to use my ear plugs for now?” Humphrey presents me with a small bck box in his hand. Its outlines are wobbly and ever so shifting. I take it into my hands carefully and open it, picking out the two bck bean-shaped buds and put them into my ears. At least they don’t look like sea urchins anymore. And don’t feel like sea urchins either.

  They dull out the noise pretty alright and my sensory issues calm down a little. But it’s still so bright in here. The cold light charrs my skin and I let my sleeves fall down my arms, hugging myself against the cold. Humphrey walks towards another shelf and I follow him, not letting much distance come between us.

  “Did you see the ice sigil integrated into the refrigerated shelf?” he asks.

  Yes.

  It’s funny how btantly obvious they are to us, but Nulls could never tell for the life of themselves. Unless somebody told them.

  “Any tea you would like or do you still have enough for the rest of the week?”

  Hm… China Oolong please.

  “Alright.” He grabs a bag of china oolong and throws it into the bag around his shoulder. We make our way forward until we reach the cash register.

  Isolde has her shift today. I greet her with a quick wave as Humphrey puts the groceries onto the treadmill and starts a little chat with her as he’s skipping through his wallet.

  “Say, you two are up early again. It’s barely seven in the morning on a monday.” She says, scanning our items.

  Isolde is a lovely elderly dy that throws most of the shifts here, hence it’s more of a rural area and usually not a lot of people come here, especially at this hour. I would feel bad for making an old woman get up this early but the shifts here have always been the same. Isolde is one of the few people who know about magic past the superficial information. I’m not entirely sure how old she really is, but there’s a chance she’s way past the one hundred mark at this point.

  “Like every monday. We’re lucky to have your store basically right around the corner, but we still have to get here early in order to keep people from recognizing Violet.” Humphrey says and I nod in agreement.

  “Would it be that bad if your friends found out about her?” Isolde asks in a little bit of a teasing manner.

  “I’d rather put my effort into keeping her existence a secret than having to announce a town gathering and have a powerpoint presentation about why we avoid the run-down cabin in the woods. And then they will ask why, and then I will have to expin to them that magic is real, akazam and so on.” Humphrey gestures an imaginary elephant to sweep under the rug.

  “You’re right, you’re right. It’s a pleasure to be one of the few people to know about you two. It makes me feel less alone these days.” Isolde says, and appears to be lost in her own thoughts.

  Humphrey skips through his cash. He always wants to pay the exact amount of money, even if that meant that we would have to stand here about fifteen minutes, longer than ever necessary, but it was one of these few cases where it really didn’t bother me that much. It’s one of the quirks Humphrey has that just makes him Humphrey.

  I cross my arms on the brim of the treadmill in order to rest my head on them and watch Humphrey count his coins. I appreciate Isolde on many levels, mostly because she has seen about everything and therefore doesn’t judge. Never once has she asked me to ‘just open my mouth and speak for myself’ rather than letting my poor, poor normal person friend do everything for me, and she also never dropped any backhanded compliments at either of us. I was lucky to have had an excuse to just vanish from society after my parents disappeared.

  The tricky part is not being recognized after all these years.

  They will be like “oh wow hi how have you been I haven’t seen you in uhh eleven years, what happened?” and I would just remain silent and act like I didn’t recognize them or see them in the first pce. Though that most likely wouldn’t surprise them, I was the weird kid at the back of the css. I’m rather certain nobody from back then even remembers my voice. And I don’t bme them.

  A smile forms on my lips.

  > ( What are you thinking about? )

  I’m gd to have somebody like him at my side. I never asked him to do all of this for me, he somehow sees himself responsible for me. I’m not exactly sure why. He said something about how I’m probably special, and as the mayor’s son he sees himself responsible to check on how things are, specifically with our generation, that I am a part of. So long story short, I’m the bck sheep within the flock he is supposed to herd.

  Isolde once asked for our zodiacs, and I’m not exactly sure why, probably to measure our compatibility. Something about Virgos and Scorpios and a lot of words I can’t make out. I am torn from my inner monologue by sudden rattling.

  “What the hell?!-” But Humphrey doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Isolde psychokinetically picks his wallet back up and pces it on the counter, taking the exact amount of money that is still missing.

  “I know you like counting coins like my te husband did, but I think you should head back home, it’s getting rather bright and lively outside.” Isolde says and gestures towards the door.

  Humphrey nods and hurries, forcing the groceries into his tote bag. “Thank you very much.”

  “Oh no need, I appreciate you taking care of your friend. It’s always a delight to see you here.” She waves goodbye while Humphrey takes my hand and we head to the exit. Next thing I know is that I’m dragging my feet across the pavement again. Humphrey is checking his phone. How te is it anyway? I’m bad at estimating, especially if it’s about time. Usually our walk back is a lot more rexed than our way to the store.

  But today something seems off and I hate that I can’t pinpoint what is. Did I forget something important?

  “Hey speaking of importance, today is car wash day.” By that, he means I smell like a sweaty loser and should take a shower.

  “Exactly!” Humphrey leads the way gleefully.

  Ah well, at least my clothes would be washed too. Not in the same tub though. I don’t fit the sink anymore. Or well, I guess I could still fit if I actually tried. But I think I might be too old.

  A wave of dread races up my spine and washes up my head like the sound of the sea, but not on a calm day where it’s blue and the shores gently wash up the sand, no.

  Like the sea on a stormy day, when waves sm into the cliffs, repeatedly washing over rocky coasts.

  And just like a rock exposed to weathering, sips of water made its way inside and froze, eventually

  causing the rock

  to break.

  PAIN, WHITE, EVERYTHING IS TURNING WHITE

  “Violet? Violet!”