Page 11 of Love, Nemesis
Lethe picked up the flask and fixed it into his belt. He turned around and sighed as he walked off to muddle through the day.
An endless, loud cycle of monotony.
Chapter 3: Burning
LETHE WANDERED SOMEWHAT aimlessly, hands in his pockets as he watched the sky and dodged passing wagons and horses. He strolled around the stables, checked the empty stalls, and walked along the barbed wire fence that circled the town.
He counted down the hours until sundown when he returned to the house to find Manaj gone, the bread sold.
Lethe went to his room. The book and skewers were gone too. He unscrewed his flask, throwing it back to feel the acidic heat as the drink hit the back of his throat.
He’d started on his nightly routine before Jamie knocked on his bedroom door and strolled in. She jumped on his bed as he pushed the water through his sandy-brown hair from a bowl near the bed, following suit with a dry cloth. She talked about her day in her usual, excitable tone, rolling back and forth as she relayed what she’d learned.
Jamie’s chatter always put him at ease. At least in general, Lethe very much enjoyed the company of people.
As a soldier, there had been close to no solitary activities. They’d eaten, showered, and fought together, nearly sleeping on top of one another in crowded tents for months. Unlike most, he sorely missed it—the noise, the heat, the arguments even. When Manaj had first taken him in, the old man had gotten quickly frustrated that Lethe wasn’t giving him enough space, as Lethe followed him from room to room like a pet.
“Next, we’ll be learning all about the Mystics,” Jamie said, rolling over on his bed as she kicked her feet behind her. “It’s a lot since they’ve been around for like a thousand years. They have fancy houses and kings and stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“They’re the descendants of the bad guys from the war since all the bad guys escaped there when we won. We also learned more about how bad war heroes are. It’s all your fault the war got as bad as it did since we shouldn’t have fought at all.” She gathered her hair over her shoulder, damp strands leaving wet spots down her shirt.
“Yeah, I’m sure we mysteriously missed option number three somewhere between being slaughtered by the Strike or enslaved by them. You have learned a lot. Cute,” he grumbled. He grabbed a fresh shirt from beside the bed and put it on. “If your teachers could have made a better choice, they’re much smarter than I am. Scoot over.”
She made a space for him as he lay down on the bed, linking his fingers behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes with a sigh.
Jamie lay down beside him. “That’s why they’re teachers,” she said flatly.
Lethe yawned, immune to the sting of Jamie’s reasoning. Many people thought that way, and over the years he’d gotten used to it. “You’re a lot harsher than usual today. Rough day at school? Any bullying that you’re passing down the chain?” Lethe grumbled.
“Lethe. The orphanage mother reads us stories with characters in it, and you’re like the bad character in every story.”
“Is this why you don’t leave me alone? You just like telling all of your friends you hang out with a criminal?”
“Of course. They love it. Plus, the fact that you have a mutation makes it even better.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re a psychopath, and that’s a lot coming from me,” he grumbled, hand over his face. “Mutations aren’t gifts and rarely have advantages. Most people who caught them when the world brokedied, all right? Pretty much everyone who gets them now dies too. I have one mutation and it happens to be useful. I didn’t ask for it. That’s it.”
As if sensing his irritation, her tone changed. “I’m just glad to spend some time with you. Both of my parents are dead,” she reminded him. Daily.
He groaned inwardly. He hated when she pulled the dead parent card. Every. Time.
“Everyone’s parents are dead these days. Get over it,” he said.
“What’s a psychopath?” she asked.
He didn’t respond and then after a while mumbled, “Someone who is very smart, and caring, and has a good heart, and will do great things in life…and people love them very much.”
After giving it some thought, Jamie folded her hands over her stomach and looked up at the ceiling.
“Lethe,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I think deep down you’re really a psychopath too.”
He didn’t respond.
