Flip the Coin [BL]-Chapter 278. Eggs in one Basket (by Tele Novella)
The second I threw the last shovel of sand onto the filled grave, a sharp pain pierced my head.
I groaned, holding my forehead and feeling my thoughts scatter.
I glanced at the coin in my mind, placed on the flipped tabletop with the giant’s carving on it; the shimmery violet light pulsed, nearly blinding me.
But it was alright; I had already accomplished what I needed to do. Though I didn’t do it on purpose, it was true that the flipped table and the giant’s powers were more than just a little helpful. I was unable to teleport living people with my ability alone, and it would have been a pity to break Skinny Guy’s and Dr. Thompson’s necks just to get them to the desert.
Very polite of the headache to wait until I was finished.
I put the shovel away, as well as the rope that was still around the buried Dr. Thompson’s neck, with nothing more than a swipe of my hand.
Time to check on Henry, but first, I had to take a bath.
I closed my eyes, held my breath, and thought of the ocean, then teleported.
The next second, I fell into the water, doused by the cool ocean, which eased the pain a bit.
I held my knees to my body and let myself be carried by the soothing waves underwater. I waited a few minutes, emptying my head and trying not to think of anything. The air didn’t feel tight; it was as if I could stay here, and maybe I should let myself sink to the ground of the ocean to rest for a long while.
Yet, someone was waiting for me.
I thought of Henry and teleported to him.
Together with a gush of water, I appeared inside a room.
I saw Henry lying in a bed, peacefully sleeping, and when I looked up, I found guns pointing at me—partly real ones, partly sedative ones.
"RAISE YOUR HANDS, HOWARD!" One guard screamed, but I ignored him and went to the chair by Henry’s bedside.
They seemed to have been waiting for me: five nurses, five guards—no idea if they were from the center, the Lawrence family, the military, or the police.
What I knew was, however, that I was nearly going blind from the violet light in my mind, and my shoulder with the bullet in it began to ache a bit from the saltwater.
This room seemed special, the walls made of glass, showing a much larger room behind.
Ten people stood inside; outside there were a few doctors and several more nurses. I think I even spotted Bianca, who looked terrorized when seeing me.
I reached for my other shoulder, making all ten people pointing guns at me very nervous, and pulled out the sedative arrow that still seemed to have been stuck in there.
I let it fall to the floor and grabbed Henry’s hand, holding it tightly.
However, the moment I removed one sedative, another small arrow pierced my chest.
I just touched the coin and looked into Henry’s future, showing me how he would wake up, directly asking for me. They wouldn’t conduct experiments on him or harm him in any way, so he would be safe here for now.
It wouldn’t take long until he came back to consciousness, so I just had to wait.
Another arrow was fired at me, piercing my arm, and my headache worsened.
I brought Henry’s hand to my lips and placed a silent kiss on it, while another arrow pierced me.
My nose started to bleed; the violet light behind my eyelids was unbearably bright, the pain growing worse with each second.
I wiped Henry’s hand, stained by a bit of my blood, with my wet shirt before again holding onto it.
Another arrow in my shoulder, another in my back, and this time, another in my neck.
The headache was killing me, and I started to feel even dizzier.
I leaned back in my chair, still enclosing Henry’s hand in mine, when I slowly closed my eyes. Maybe I could take a short nap to accelerate the time until he woke up.
**********
The first time I saw a dead bird on the street, I couldn’t look at it.
Later that night, I thought of the time my mother told me about death for the first time. We had been in the living room, and she read the newspaper. Maybe I asked an incoherent question, or maybe she read something related to death and thought it was a good time to break the news to me now.
Most people don’t remember how it was when they were really young, but I do.
I remember the comfortable silence in my head.
Because my speech wasn’t fully developed, there were no thoughts in my mind. It was as if I lived solely in the present, unaware of the powerlessness that being unable to think brought with it. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂
If no thoughts are formed, you must surrender yourself to your surroundings without being able to assess a situation as good or bad, as dangerous or safe.
Although many say that babies are indeed aware of these things because they could perceive emotions from the people around them, I, however, call that dumb nonsense.
The small child reacts to strange smells, strange sounds, a crying mother, a violent father, a wet behind, hunger, and thirst.
Not to your emotions.
Nobody can feel your emotions as long as you bury them.
As a little child, there isn’t much you could do anyway, so it was probably a blessing to not know anything, to not perceive anything.
This unawareness was not only horrifying in retrospect; it was also enviable.
In between this sweet, sweet unawareness, I still can’t tell how she came to talk about it, but she told me about people who would ’disappear,’ ’go to heaven,’ ’die.’
Although I couldn’t really grasp the concept, I remember what this information did to me.
What could a little child without thoughts do after hearing such devastating news?
Take it as it was.
Accept it.
"You don’t have to worry. You have a long time ahead of you until then; only very old people die." I can’t remember how the talk started, but I remember how it ended, word for word.
Yet, no matter how often I repeated her words in my head, the essence of her words never changed: In the future, you will stop existing.
However, while I slept, in my dreams, there was no foreign concept looming over me, no end waiting for me. I could feel the enticing liberation while sleeping, making the suffocating reality all the more dreadful.
Even as a child, I could see a clock ticking, understanding that time was passing by, running through my fingers slowly but steadily, but ultimately: too fast.
I think the first time I really awoke from the acceptance forced upon me was when I saw that dead bird.
At night, I sneaked out of our apartment and wandered back to the bird. There were already insects devouring it, and only half of the bird was left because a carriage wheel had apparently smashed its lower half.
I crouched down beside the bird and looked at it for a long time.
"Have you seen enough to die in peace?" I asked it, but it never answered.
The second time I awoke from the acceptance the grey world demanded from its occupants was when I climbed the tree—my tree.
I missed a branch and nearly fell; my legs somehow managed to hook to a branch, and I dangled upside down.
I stared straight ahead and watched the scenery, which looked so foreign from this perspective.
It was beautiful.
And this time, contrary to the knife that touched but never pierced my skin, the air that was never denied for too long, and the feet that swung above the abyss but always retracted, I let go.
I let go and fell.
I fell and was given another life. And not just one, but so many lives that I am unable to count them.
The third time I awoke from the acceptance that bound me to the fragile life of a human, I knew with certainty that I had left the grey world behind.
And I would do everything in my power to never return again.
