“I wish I could never feel fear, pain, guilt, everything . . .” he had said in a teary voice.
“That’s not something anyone can just do. Besides, you are too full of emotions. I think you’d rather make a good artist or a musician,” I’d said after some thought.
Gon had laughed, his eyes wet.
That day had been in the summer, unlike now when every gasp of pain came out as white vapor. The peak of summer. Summer. Had that day really existed? When everything was green and lush and full? Everything we’d experienced together, was it truly real?
*
Gon had often asked me—what it was like to be fearless. What it was like to feel nothing. Even though I struggled to explain every time, he always came back and asked me the same question.
I also had so many questions left unanswered. At first, I wondered what went through that man’s mind when he stabbed Granny. But that question led to another one. Why did people know yet pretend not to know? I had no idea what to make of them.
There was this day when I was visiting Dr. Shim. On the TV screen, a boy who had lost both his legs and an ear from a bombing was crying. A news report on a war happening somewhere in the world. Dr. Shim was watching the screen with no expression on his face. Hearing my footsteps, he turned around, greeting me with a friendly smile. My eyes were locked on the boy behind his smile. Even a fool like me can see the boy’s hurt. That he’s in extreme pain from a terrible, tragic incident.
But I didn’t ask him. Why are you smiling? How could you smile with your back turned on somebody in such pain? I didn’t ask.
Because I’d seen everybody else do it. Even Mom and Granny, when they flipped through the channels. Mom would say, A tragedy that’s too distant cannot be “your” tragedy.
Fine, let’s say that’s true. But what about the people who did nothing as they just stood and watched Mom and Granny being attacked that day? They saw it happen in front of their eyes. They were too close to use the excuse that it was “a distant tragedy.” I remembered one of the witnesses, a choir member, giving an interview. He said that the man was thrashing around in a craze, so the witness was too scared to get any closer.
People shut their eyes to a distant tragedy saying there’s nothing they could do, yet they didn’t stand up for one happening nearby either because they’re too terrified. Most people could feel but didn’t act. They said they sympathized, but easily forgot. The way I see it, that was not real.
I didn’t want to live like that.
*
A strange sound slipped out of Gon’s body. A deep, intense howl that rose from the pit of his stomach. It sounded like an old, rusty cogwheel creaking into motion, or the wail of a wild animal. Why was he trying so hard to do what he was never good at? The word “pitiful” kept tugging at the tip of my tongue.
“Is this all you’ve got? All right. Then don’t you regret it,” said Steel Wire, his eyes locked on Gon.
Steel Wire snatched something lying next to Gon. It was the knife he had handed to Gon earlier. Before either of us could do anything, Steel Wire brought it to Gon’s throat. But he didn’t get a chance to hurt Gon. Because it was me who took the blow of the knife. Because that was the end of it all.
73
The moment I pushed Gon aside, Steel Wire’s knife dug deep into my chest. Gon kept screaming the word “demon” at Steel Wire. Steel Wire pulled out the knife. Red liquid, the warm, sticky essence oozed swiftly out of my body. I passed out shortly.
Somebody shook my shoulders. Gon was hugging me in his arms.
“Don’t die. I beg you. I’ll do anything for you . . . anything . . .” Gon whimpered. He was covered in blood. I glimpsed Steel Wire lying facedown on the floor. I don’t know why those words came out of me. But it was then I just whispered, “Say sorry. To everyone you’ve hurt. To the butterfly you killed. To the bugs you’ve stepped on carelessly. Say you’re sorry.”
I had come here to apologize to Gon, and now I was telling him to apologize. But Gon nodded.
“I will, I will, I really will. So please . . .”
Gon held me tight as he rocked me back and forth. Then I couldn’t hear his voice anymore. My eyes slowly closed. My body felt lethargic, as if I were letting myself sink into deep water. I was returning to a primordial place where I had lived before I was born. A blurry scene started to come into focus as if someone were playing a movie in my head.
A snowy day. My birthday. Mom is sprawled out on the floor, her blood soaking the snow. I see Granny. Her face is as fierce as a wild beast’s. She screams from outside the window, Go, go, get out of the way! I’d learned the phrase usually meant I hate you. Like when Dora shouted at Gon, “Get lost.” So why? Why was Granny telling me to go?