It's not lupus, III

"Start at the beginning," I suggested. "Work your way forward. Tell me the important parts."

"What beginning? Don't know what's important."

"The first thing you can remember, from when...when everything started to go wrong."

She was silent for a long time. "First? Nightmare was first. First sign anything was wrong. Saw Him a few days later. Need details? All the same. What you'd expect. Him watching. Trouble sleeping. Doodling."

"Doodling? What did you doodle?"

"Him, and... can't remember much else. Over a year ago."

"And no doodling since?"

"No. Went away once I gave up. He made it seem right. Made me think I did the right thing."

"Do you think you did the right thing?"

"No. Maybe they were going to die. Maybe it didn't matter. But I killed them. He killed them. But with me. They wouldn't know. Dead now."

"Not all of them. And maybe if the truth goes to those who still matter to you..."

"Maybe then they'd die too."

That was true, I suppose. But I wasn't finished yet.

"Maybe not. In my experience, It...He rarely comes back to clean up his messes."

"Can't predict Him."

"Can't we? Can't we at least try? Can't we at least hope?"

"Hope if you want. But He never gave anyone else a briefcase."

"Ah, yes, the briefcase. That's true. Hm...come, now, back to the beginning. What happened after the nightmares?"

"Nightmares came after people died. My mother, my friend, my coach. Then I went to Him. To end the deaths. Didn't work. Dreams didn't mean what I thought."

"What did they mean?"

"Meant I could go with Him, not know people were dying. Be ignorant. Don't know why He had to kill them. Maybe just torturing me."

"Yes, he's good at that..." I paused. "If you could go back, and change it all...would you? Would you fix it all? Stop yourself from going to Him?"

"... All I could have done was die. Might have saved them. Can't know. Was selfish instead."

"Save yourself, Atalanta. Save yourself from the legacy you don't deserve. Come out of the pit you've dug." I sighed again. This was going nowhere.

"Told you. Too. Late."

"And I told you. Never too late."

"Go away. Don't know why they didn't kick you out yet."

"They didn't kick me out because they think I'm supposed to be here. But if you really want me to leave, I will. I can see you're most certainly alive; that was the main purpose of my visit."

"Let me just be nothing."

"Nothing...nothing. You will be nothing, then! You are nothing! But make it a good nothing."

"Whatever."

"I'm sorry, then, for your sake. My best wishes, and my condolences." I stood up. "Before I go, is there...anyone you would like me to tell what you've told me? Anyone in particular?"

"What did I even say?"

"You said a great deal. You said enough to acquit yourself - before an open-minded jury, that is."

I could see her thinking it over, her brow furrowing above the bandages. "Don't tell anybody that doesn't know about Him. No more advertising."

"No more advertising. Got it." I laughed quietly. "Today, Atalanta, you've done something right, at least." I thought for a moment. "And you finally have a bed."

The moon had begun to rise when I got outside. I got on the last bus home and stared at my notebook for hours before slipping into unconsciousness by the fireplace.