Is she really alive?
She always asks that question ever since she left the Box. It was suffocating. Small and cramp, but not out here. Out here it's large and endless like she'll be lost any moment. It's scary. She's scared. The familiar smell of chemical in the infirmary calms her down a little; the smell reminds her of the Box.
Creeak. Crik. The wooden floor cries as clean shoes walks over it. Back and forth, side-to-side. Her savior moves about, deep in his own world. His skinny body drowning in his scarlet robe worn by combatant students. Bruised and bandaged up like her, but not his dead eyes. His vibrant gold eyes look at her for a moment before becoming distant again. "I did not make the school's opening ceremony but that is fine too." He mumbles to himself.
He wants to kill her too. She knows. They all do. The couple who stole her from the box to the people who did not need her anymore. She is useless. Worthless. Why does she exist?
Then, he stops moving. Her body stiffens. Will he kill her now?
"I do not need incompetent people, Pet." He says to her with narrow eyes.
Incompetent, what is that? She did not understand but she nods her head. She wants to survive. She wants to know why she exists. Her purpose.
Creeak. Cree. He walks over and gently lifts her chin. A brown eye meets green eyes. Then, he opens his mouth and her heart start to pound. "Kill yourself," he says the thing she fears the most. She wants to live.
"It's okay," his voice was soft and lukewarm. She shivers, not used to such gentle actions. Then, something cold falls into her hand. Her mind barely registers the object, yet her hand automatically holds onto it. She was familiar with holding sharp objects— in the box and the angry couple. It gives her comfort.
"So, you know how to use a dagger." He pulls her from her thought, as he watches lazily from the window by her bed. "That's good, it'll make your death a little less awkward."
"I—" She does not want to feel any more pain.
"Do not hesitate if you want to live. To live is to hurt." He takes the peculiar knife with a glass handle filled to brim by a dark liquid and points it at her heart.
It's this moment, she realizes there was never a moment where she did not hurt. In the box— needles, painful food, and whips. Outside— fists and kicks, cut and bruises.
"To live is to hurt." She repeats.
"That's right." He gives the knife to the child and directs her hand over her heart. "What will you do? Will you leave or will you take the chance to live."
"To live is to hurt." She chants before plunging the knife in her chest without a second thought.
X's thin lips slightly lifts into a light smile.
The knife is obviously not ordinary. As she pierces her heart, no blood seeps out. The dark liquid in the handle slowly injects into her. Tainting her with his own demonic venom, burning her inside-out. She feels the pain, but she does not complain. Shaking, barely holding on until every last drop is flowing in her vein. The knife clatters to the ground. She clutches her chest.
"It hurts," she croaks.
"Living is pain," he replies before letting her rest in his arm. Gingerly, he rocks the feverish girl to sleep. "Don't worry, I used my new body's blood to dilute the demonic poison from my void, so you won't fill too much pain."
The poison starts to work. Her vision blurs. Her eyes close quietly. Ferret, that was her savior's original name. Now, he is X.
She watches from the sideline his fragmented memories. A dirty boy. Sickness and death. A fiery pit and twisted beings. Herbs and passing time. And now. Present.
"Did you have a good dream?" He asks her as he comes out of the bathroom. In a wife beater and short, he partly dries his green hair with a towel.
She says nothing, too much to process, to understand. They were in a private dormitory room sponsored by City Z. The dying sunlight dims the room. Only silence fills the gap between the two people, strangling them with speechless anxiety.
"Eat." He passes a can of food given to him by the canteen. "Today's dinner is sardine and crackers. It's not very good, but we have not adjusted to the school yet, so bear with it." She eats not knowing how hungry she was until she stuffs it into her mouth. Not stopping when she was choking, not slowing down when tears for everything that happened to her in this lifetime finally releases itself. He sits on the edge of the bed and pats her head in acknowledgment; the silence suddenly becomes pleasant.
Sometimes words are more painful than not saying anything, for them at least.
"How," she asks after finishing her dinner.
He chuckles, "How did I create a demonic poison by using my void?"
She nods. she wanted to say more, yet at times like this her voice fails her. Like the words are stuck in her throat and did not want to come out.
"Sorry, trade secret. Just know my blood and poison created a sort-of spiritual bond between us that gave you all the information you need to know. If you want to stay by my side, remember that everything else is unnecessary."
She pouts at him, which he returns with a genuine smile.
He holds her hands, "Today, you will live and die only for me. What you were before does not matter because you are mine now." He wants to say more but he falters a little, "Pet, what is your new name?"
Her mouth opens and closes, then she frowns. He feels her tugging the end of his shirt. "Alright, I get it you want me to choose." She quickly nods her head, her curls bouncing, creating a very lovely scene.
"Your name is Dahlia. Like the flower symbolizes, a new beginning and an everlasting bond."