Chapter 32: Fear And Hope

‎"from the hint I saw in the letters and book from the dream, she also said something about a journal. but that journal was nowhere to be found, I have search and searched for the journal but I can’t seem to find it. "she said.

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‎"okay, let’s say I believe the journal part, but are you telling me you notice some hint from photos, letter and books in the dream, and you remember them. I call BS, I don’t remember you to have a photographic memory. you that your memory is a little better than mine. "I said.

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‎in Ariadne mind, she was already thinking damnit, he found a hole in my story, curse my memory. I have to cover the hole.

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‎"I sincerely swear harry, you know how I hate swearing, I found it what’s that word. "she said while trying to think of a word, "I can’t remember but you know what I meant.

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‎"okay, let’s assume that I believe you, how does that relate with you going out in the middle of the night, and don’t lie because I am sure this is not your first time, even though I only catch you once, I know that you have been doing it since. "Harry said with serious certainty of someone who won’t take no for an answer.

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‎Ariadne heard this and she just thought, why is this guy so perspective, can’t he be a little dumb and unconcerned.

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‎"you are right, but I have only been going out since the dream begin. "I cross my heart hope to faint. "she said all this knowing that this is just something childrens do, that nothing will happen.

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‎"Aria you are wasting time, tell me the main reason, tell me what I want to hear. "I said.

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‎"if you keep interrupting me, how am I supposed to tell you anything, uh. "she said.

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‎"okay, I won’t interrupt you again, so start talking. "I said.

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‎"I decided to do my own digging for the answer, I remembered the image of the people I saw in my dreams, after I saw them respectively, so I draw them and started searching for them online, I found some of them, but they are already dead, some I was unable to find them. so I decided to dig deeper, I went to the grave of those that were already dead, maybe I will find a clue in their grave to satiate my curiosity. so far I have only gone to the ones that are close by, the rest are far and some are in another country. "she said.

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‎"okay, so you became a tomb raider, raiding people grave, isn’t that disrespectful to the corpse in the grave and I am somehow finding it hard to believe. the you I know feel disgust at the smallest of things, to the extent that you feel disgust at your own shit when we were young, if you vomit and you see that vomit, you will vomit another one again as long as you still have content inside your body. so I am finding it hard that you went digging in a grave of someone that God knows when that person died. So I am calling your lies out. "I said.

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‎"I am speaking the truth, and that was back then, I don’t do that again, I believe my immune system or my body system was not working properly back then, or I was just being childish. "I quickly argue back like I am defending my truth, but in my mind I have cursed myself a million times, but still the show must go on.

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‎"So tonight," Harry said slowly, "you decided to go dig up a grave?"

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‎"Not a grave! Just—just the place where the body is buried. the farthest of all of them, the one near the fence. There’s a spot where the earth is looser, where she said—"

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‎"And you went alone? At midnight? To a cemetery? aren’t you afraid of ghost?. I asked.

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‎"harry, you are interrupting, do you want me to stop, and who mention there is ghost in the graveyard, I did not see any ghost and I am not scared of ghost at all. maybe when I was young. "she said.

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‎harry just nod is head along like he believed her, but by the look she gave him he could see that she saw that he was just being sarcastic, so he just stopped doing what he was doing.

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‎"harry, trust me, I had to do what I am doing, I have no choice on this matter, I have to do it. "I had to! The dreams—they only come at night, and they’re getting more urgent. She keeps saying there isn’t much time. That I need to find it before..." Ariadne trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

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‎she threw him some part of what is wrong with, the part she is able to throw without the barrier stopping her, but she don’t know if he got the hint.

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‎"Before what?"

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‎"I don’t know." That part, at least, was true. She didn’t know. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea what any of it meant, no idea why she’d spent the last four hours in a place she was not interested in doing, doing things she couldn’t explain or even understand all she knows that it is related to all those bastard so called heroes.

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‎Harry uncrossed his arms and moved closer to her side on the bed. He sat down next to her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, and for a moment they just sat in silence.

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‎"You should have told me," he said quietly.

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‎"I know."

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‎"I would have gone with you."

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‎"I know."

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‎"So why didn’t you?"

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‎Ariadne looked at him—really looked at him. His dark hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it. His eyes were tired, but there was no anger there, not really. Just worry. Just fear. Just the same desperate need to understand that she’d seen in her own reflection every morning for the past three weeks.

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‎Because I’m not sure of exactly what I am doing, she thought. Because I’m not sure I’m not losing my mind. Because if I was even able to tell him it would put him in trouble, you’d be kept in the same position I am in by those piece of sh*t, and I would regret putting you in that position.

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‎"I didn’t want to drag you into it," she said instead. "It’s my family. My... my mess."

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‎"You’re my best friend, Ariadne. Your mess is my mess." He paused, then added, "Did you find anything? The letters, the journal—did you find them?"

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‎She shook her head. "No. I dug for hours, but..." She held up her hands, showing him the dirt still caked under her fingernails, embedded in the creases of her palms. "Nothing. Just dirt. Just... sand."

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‎Harry was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and took her hand, turning it over to examine the grime.

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‎"There’s something you’re not telling me," he said.

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‎Mira’s heart skipped. "What?"

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‎"I don’t know. But there’s something." He looked up at her, and his eyes were so earnest, so trusting, that she almost told him everything. Almost, but she couldn’t even if she tried, the barrier will stop her even if she tried"Your shoes are covered in sand, Mira. Sand. Not dirt. Not grave soil. Sand. And your clothes—" He shook his head. "You said you were digging. So how are your clothes so clean?"

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‎She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so focused on the cemetery, on the dream, on the story she was weaving, that she’d forgotten the most obvious physical evidence. Her shoes were full of sand—the kind of fine, pale sand you found at the beach. Her clothes should have been filthy. They should have been covered in the same grit that dusted her face and hands and hair.

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‎But they weren’t.

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‎"I don’t know," she whispered. And for the first time all night, that was completely, entirely true. "maybe it is the kind of sand they use in the cemetery. "The lies continues.

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‎She have to continue the lie, even if Harry fail to believe her, there is nothing more she can do but to continue, it is not like she can even speak the truth.

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‎Harry studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let go of her hand and stood up, walking over to her window. He looked out at the darkened street below, at the moon hanging low and heavy in the sky.

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‎"I’m not going to pretend I believe you," he said quietly. "Because I don’t. Not entirely. There’s something wrong with this story, Ariadne. Something... off. But I’m not going to push. Not tonight." He turned back to face her, and his expression was so sad, so impossibly sad, that she felt her chest tighten with guilt. "You’re exhausted. You’re covered in sand. And you’re lying to me. But you’re my best friend, and I’m not going anywhere. So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to take a shower. You’re going to go to sleep. And tomorrow or when ever you are ready, you’re going to tell me the truth. The real truth. The one you’re hiding."

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‎"Harry—"

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‎"Promise me."

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‎She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t hiding anything, that the cemetery story was real, that everything was fine. But the words wouldn’t come. Because they both knew the truth, even if they weren’t saying it. She was lying. And he knew it. And somehow, impossibly, he was still here. Still her friend. Still waiting.

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‎"Okay," she whispered. "when I am ready."

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‎He nodded, then walked to her door. He paused with his hand on the handle, looking back at her one more time.

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‎"You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is. Whatever happened. You can trust me."

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‎"I know."

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‎"I mean it, Ariadne. Even if it sounds crazy. Even if you think I won’t believe you. I’ll always believe you."

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‎Ariadne agreed with him in her mind, but she can’t tell him or any of her close family relative even if she can, she is not sure what the heroes will do to them, if they know that her parents or close one know their hidden side.

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‎After he left, Ariadne sat on her bed for a long time, staring at her sand-caked shoes. She thought about the cemetery—the cold wind, the whispering trees, the way the ground had seemed to shift beneath her feet. She thought about the truth, the voice, her grandmother’s face fading in and out of focus like a radio signal losing reception.

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‎And she thought about the truth.

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‎The truth she couldn’t tell anyone, not even Harry. The truth that made no sense, that defied all logic, that would make her sound like she’d completely lost her mind.

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‎The truth that there was no journal. No letters. No secret buried under the oak tree.

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‎There was only the sand. The endless, impossible sand, stretching out in all directions, warm and golden under a sky she’d never seen before. A desert that couldn’t exist, a place that shouldn’t exist, a world that had somehow found it way into her live, a truth that is so impossible that it would make the villains looks like children, make the clown feel like a child that is just throwing temper tantrums.

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‎She looked down at her shoes again. At the sand.

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‎And she wondered, with a fear that went deeper than words, what would happen when Harry found out that his best friend had been walking in another world that is very different from his. will he still remain the same or....

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‎She is afraid to think of what could happen, but she pray earnestly to any God out there that he should still remain the same after he found out in the future.

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