人を信じよ、しかし、その百倍も自らを信じよ
Hito o shinjiyo, shikashi, sono hyaku-bai mo mizukara o shinjiyo
Believe in people, but believe in yourself a hundred times more.
~Osamu Tezuka, Japanese manga artist and animator
Kit
Weirdest night of my life.
With the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in the absolute strangest circumstances I’ve ever been in.
I pinch the skin on my arm again. Nope, still awake, still here. Spending the night with a god. I tried to play it cool, but internally I was dying with curiosity and wonder.
People worshipped him for good reason, didn’t they?
And more importantly, why did they stop?
I splash water onto my face, try to get myself under control, then grab my hair tie and pull my hair back. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I feel lost, like I should know who I am but have no clue where I started or where I will eventually end. I’m like this empty thing. My brown eyes stare back at me, clueless, and my brown hair, with its shots of red on the bottom, lay there against my chest. I wonder what would happen if I had powers… powers I could make come alive and help me. I want power. Why am I hungry for it? Why does it seem like the next best thing other than just acceptance but pulling in every source of energy I have?
I open my hands, my palms sting. Yes. This feels right. But also so wrong. I feel like I’m going to puke. My hands grip the porcelain countertop. What just happened?
A sudden pang hits my chest. I touch it with my fingertips. What am I missing? Why do I feel like something is so lost?
So lost.
Lost.
Lost.
I can’t find it.
I gave it away.
But what did I give?
I crumple to my knees; they hit the hard tile, making a crunching noise I know will haunt me later. One that will tell me that my knees are strained again, that my health is bad, all because of things I don’t understand and things I’ve lost but can’t find.
I quickly jump to my feet and grab a towel, washing the wetness from my face, and stare at myself one more time in the mirror. Is it normal, I wonder, to look at yourself and not see yourself? But a stranger? It’s why I’ve always avoided mirrors because it feels wrong, it feels other.
My eyes feel right, but my face feels wrong.
I’m crazy.
It’s the only reason I can’t sleep, the only reason I don’t recognize myself, and why nobody really sees me.
I hold onto the counter to keep myself from a repeat fall to the floor. My brain is dizzy again; it always gets this way when I feel sorry for myself, when I just… want.
I want love.
I want someone to hold me, but more than that, I want them to tell me to fight, but for what? What do I have to fight for?
Nobody thinks of me. Nobody cares.
I smile to myself. It’s a sad smile.
I tell myself it’s okay.
And then I walk out of the bathroom in a trance and head toward Horus, this god who doesn’t care if I live or die, this god who claims to be all of these things.
Funny how you wake up in a world that isn’t your own, only to realize that nobody is here to save you. They’re here to condemn you.
I take a deep breath and step into the living room. He’s sitting there, looking gorgeous, holding his hands together, gripping them like he’s nervous.
That makes two of us.
“I’m going to try to sleep,” I say.
He doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “Good idea.”
“Perfect,” I add. “I’m going to just take the couch.”
“No!” he barks and jumps to his feet. “You’ll take the bed; I already put on fresh sheets, come.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the way he’s looking at me is more terrifying than anything I’ve ever seen in my life—at least as far as I’m aware—so I meekly follow him into the bedroom. He has a little salt lamp next to his bed and its pinkish-orange glow beckons. The sheets are pulled back in an invitation to seek rest. Enough pillows are piled on the bed to suffocate me and ten others. And I choked up a little as I notice that he put a bottle of water on the nightstand.
“So, yeah,” he says, waving his hand in front of me. “Try to get some rest.”
“Yeah.” I nod, the tiniest bit shocked at his efforts. “I’ll do that.”
“Good.” He stands there, staring at the bed, then starts to leave, and I have no clue why I do it, but I reach out and grab his wrist.
He stills. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
He clenches his hand.
“Please,” I whisper. “Stay.”
Why do his blue eyes seem sad? He grips my forearm and turns it over as though he’s looking for something; his thumb rubs down my skin, and it burns so good I almost sigh. “I like that.”
“You shouldn’t,” he whispers.
“Can you stay?” I ask. “Can I?”
He sighs deeply. “Just don’t touch me.”
When his hand grips mine, I feel complete. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s hard to breathe as he pulls me the rest of the way into his bedroom. His bed is massive. I sit on the edge, and Horus gently pulls back the sheets and then tucks me in.
The bed dips a little as he settles next to me.
I hate that I’m upset because he stopped holding my hand. I feel empty again, sick to my stomach. I curl up on my side.
“If you could have anything,” he says quietly, “anything in the world, what would it be?”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes before I answer softly, “A friend.”
He seems to startle at that, or maybe it’s my imagination. “You don’t have friends?”
“I have me.” My voice shakes. I can’t believe I’m telling him this, but I feel out of control, and right now, I just need someone to tell me it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay. I can’t remember anything, and on top of that, I just had a traumatic experience with gods and immortals, and who the hell knows what else.
Why can’t they help me?
Suddenly frustrated, I turn around and glare at him. He’s lying next to me, peaceful. Calm. How the HELL dare he?
“Why!” I yell.
Horus jerks back and nearly falls off the bed. “What the hell?”
“Why!” I yell again. “If you’re a god and I’m a human, why do I have to suffer? I’ve done everything right! I’ve tried so freaking hard, but why? Why am I suffering? Why do you get the power? Why do I get to sit here and cry? Why? I want to know why my tears fall. I want to know why I have no memories of love. I want to know why. WHY!”
I don’t realize I’m sobbing until I can’t see.
He slowly raises his hands and rests them on my shoulders, then pulls me against his chest. I sob until I can’t breathe.
“I have no excuses,” he whispers. “I have no answers to the Creator’s reasons for pain, but I do have this.”
“What?” I sob. “A magic pill to make me forget?”
His smile is sad. “Not so much.” His head lowers, but he hesitates as if he doesn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth but feels compelled to say them. “One thing given to all gods that can’t be taken away.”
“What’s that?” I sniffle.
His smile is full of something I don’t think I can even categorize as he lowers his head and brushes his lips against mine. “Love.”
“You don’t love me. You don’t know me.”
“But I can show you love; any being can show love if, even for an instant, they can at one moment choose to love someone over themselves, choose to be selfless for a small amount of time. Every single second that passes, we are given a choice, and if you use those seconds for others, knowing that you will never get that time back, is that not love?”
I feel like I’ve heard these words before.
I open my mouth to protest, yet I know he’s right. Sacrifice is love. Even if all you’re sacrificing is time.
I nod my head. “Then give me love, just for a few seconds.”
“And if I choose to give you a minute?”
“Then you’re a very benevolent god, aren’t you?”
“I was.” He frowns. “I am.”