Just as she was walking she caught sight of someone who stood at the tip of the cliff looking down at the height the person stood on. Pursing her lips, Penny took the decision to walk up there to see a man whose legs shook back and forth as if preparing to jump from there.
“Hey!” Penny shouted at the man, her voice loud as the air was too breezy up here at the cliff. The man turned around to look at her and her eyes widened because of the blood that covered his white shirt along with his hands, “What are you doing there?” she asked him. It was obvious that he was planning to kill himself from this height.
The man moved his lips but the words that he spoke did not reach her ears.
“You’re going to fall from there if you move any closer,” she shouted again to see the man not react to it. So he was trying to kill himself, thought Penny to herself. To someone like her who didn’t have enough life in the village where people looked down at her with hate and disgust, she wanted to live, to live and prove people wrong for how they perceived her and her mother.
She raised both her hands after dropping the bucket of milk she had collected from a cow that didn’t belong to her family.
“I don’t know what happened but there are other ways to look at than jumping off the cliff,” said Penny over the breezing wind.
The man didn’t go to answer her and instead turned around not giving her an ear to listen to.
Penny panicked not knowing what else to do, she said, “Oh, wait. I know you! You live next to my home, don’t you? I am Penelope. You know there are a lot of things for which I could jump over a cliff but I heard someone say once you die, the pain carries along and it doesn’t stop but only feels that much more. It is true,” she leaned to her right to finally have him turn around.
“How do you know about that?” he finally spoke loud enough for her to be able to hear him. She tried remembering it before saying,
“It was one of the priestesses in the church. I had gone to pray that day. She said that it is better to try resolving what you feel in this life than carry it. It is why the book to humanity written by the Gods tells us to wash our sins and pin in this very time than postpones by carrying it forward.”
The man hadn’t turned to jump and instead was facing her which was good, he slowly stepped down to where she was to ask her, “Do you believe that the book of humanity was written by Gods?” now that he was near, she could see the blood which was somewhat between black and red in color.
Did he kill someone?
“Umm, I think it is good to think that someone who sits in the higher seat above all the creatures had written it to guide us. Don’t you think so?” she asked him while being wary about the man who stood in front of her, “I don’t know what you did but if it’s something that was needed, I am sure God will forgive you,” the man looked at the green-eyed girl. Staring at her, to notice how accepting she was where she hadn’t panicked by looking at the blood on him.
Seeing the man starting to walk down, Penny wondered if the man was upset. She was relieved to see that he was at least not trying to kill himself for now.
When Penny’s eyes woke up from the sleep she caught sight of Damien who was at the foot of the bed removing her shoes from her feet, “Sleep more if you’re sleepy,” he whispered to see her shake her head.
“What time is it?” she asked. Her body felt groggy and sluggish, sitting upright, she heard him answer,
“It’s three past five right now.” When they had arrived here, Penny hadn’t bothered to look at the clock on the wall and instead she had fallen straight on the bed, falling asleep. She yawned, “Did you get enough sleep?” he asked her.
“I think so,” she murmured, letting Damien unbuckle the last shoe, letting it fall down on the ground as he sat near her. He kissed the side of her temple.
“You appear a little lost,” he noted. His eyes flickering to look at her expression that looked dazed.
“I saw Isaiah in my dream,” Penny said, taking some time to let the dream itself sink, “I sometimes wonder if the dreams I dream are the ones that took place or the ones I am imagining. What if some things are part of the imagination that never took place?”
“Is it hard to draw the line between the two?” he asked her.
“Not much but it only makes me wonder.”
“What did you see in your dream?”
Penny’s eyes moved to look at the flickering fire in the fireplace that looked bright like it had only been torched a few minutes before she woke up from her sleep. Her brows knit together she said, “He killed someone and he looked upset. The blood on his shirt was was red and black in color, it must have been of a black witch. I think he wanted to kill himself over it.”
“Did he say who it was?”
Penny shook her head, “No. We didn’t speak much. I think it was the first time we spoke to each other. Do you remember when he iterated the story about himself, he said he had been mentored by a black witch.”
“I remember that.”
“Do you think he killed that black witch who took him in? The woman who taught him the black magic…Because he didn’t mention anyone else in his story,” Penny had hoped for him to turn to a better person but in the end, he had the intentions to wipe her memory just like her mother had done to her.
