Volume 11: Part 4- Vierdestad: Monday, October 24th, 11:56 A.M.

Monday, October 24th, 11:56 A.M.

Oh shit!  They're here!  They're fucking here!  God damn it, these fucking people are everywhere!  Fuck!

Hato Shurtleff

No Title

Sometimes

You want to feel wanted.

Sometimes

You want to feel needed.

Sometimes

You want to feel someone else there.

Sometimes

You want to feel something other than nothing.

Sometimes

You want to feel something besides remorse that there is nothing.

For me,

Sometimes

Is right now.

Sometimes

Is right now, and I can't stop it from being right now.

Sometimes

I want help.

Sometimes

I need help.

Sometimes

I just need someone to be there.

Not necessarily to give me an answer, just to be there when

Sometimes

Is now.

Sometimes

Is now.

Sometimes

Is now.

Volume 11: Part 4- Vierdestad: Monday, October 24th, 8:33 A.M.

Monday, October 24th, 8:33 A.M.

It's raining this morning.  I have a headache, a headwound, I'm hungry, and it's raining.  Fuck.

Rinoa woke up before I did.  It's fascinating how she's managed to maintain her beauty in these conditions.  It's something that makes me regret fucking up my relationship with her all the more.  When Rinoa noticed I was awake she came over, sat down next to where I had been sleeping, and started talking to me.  "You're awake."

"Yeah.  You been up long?"

"Not really.  How's your head?"

"I've got a headache, but other than that I feel fine."

Rinoa moved my tourniquet aside to take a look at my headwound.  "I don't like the look of that wound.  We should get you to a hospital."

"Where's Gin?  Maybe he knows where a hospital is."

Rinoa's face turned sad at the mention of Gin's name.  With tears in her eyes, Rinoa looked at me and said, "You know the plane crash I told you about."

"Yeah.  I don't remember the crash, but you told me about it."

"When the plane hit the ground, you and Gin hit your heads pretty hard.  You survived, Gin didn't.  The tourniquet you're wearing is made from Gin's shirt."

I touched the area of my wound.  The material that made up the now departed Gin's shirt feels nice.  I bet Gin liked wearing this shirt when he was alive.  As I touched my wound, I became concerned about Rinoa's health.  "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You went through the crash too.  Did you get cut up at all?"

When I asked her this question, a flash of happiness came over Rinoa's face, for what reason I still don't know.  "I don't think I got too terribly cut up, at least nothing as bad as your head.  My back has been bugging me.  Would you mind looking at it?"

A woman I adore was asking me to look at her body.  Only one answer to that question came to my mind.  "Sure."

Rinoa turned away from me and lifted her shirt up.  This is a moment that would have been much more monumental for me if it were done in a completely different context.  Rinoa looked over her shoulder at me and asked, "Does my back look fine?"

I couldn't enthusiastically say yes, so I went with a clinical response.  "I don't see anything wrong.  There's some scrapes but nothing too deep, and certainly nothing that looks too terribly bad."

Upon hearing me with my non-existent medical expertise pronounce her to be physically sound, Rinoa put her shirt back down.  "That's good to hear."  Rinoa stood up and started looking around the general area.  "I think I see a hill within walking distance.  We should go up there and see if there are any cities around."

"All right."  I started to get up before Rinoa stopped me.

"No, Hato, you stay here.  I'm going to go back to the plane and see if there are canteens among the wreckage."

"I can help you look."

"No, don't.  With as bad as that wound is, I don't want you exerting yourself more than you need to."  What Rinoa said and the tone, the forceful yet caring tone, which she used to say it is making me think.  What if my head is really messed up?  What if this wound is infected?  What if the infection makes me sick?  What if I die from the sickness?  What if I can't get to Amcan to tell the world what's going on in Dolore?

As I'm sitting here waiting for Rinoa to come back there are a lot of questions in my head.  Too many questions with too few answers.  My hope is that getting up and moving and finding a nearby town will lead to me finding answers.  Hopefully the rain will let up before then.  I can only hope.

Later.

Hato Shurtleff

Volume 11: Part 4- Vierdestad: Sunday, October 23rd, 6:16 P.M.

Sunday, October 23rd, 6:16 P.M.

I don't know how I got here.  I don't.  I know that I wanted to leave Trebyer and I'm aware that I was in the process of doing it, but I don't know how I was doing it or how I got to be here.  I'm aware of who I am, Hato Shurtleff, and that I am intent on getting to Amcan, but why I'm in this place right now is a question I don't have the answer to.

Rinoa says that we were in a plane crash and I believe her.  A plane crash would explain my headwound and begin to explain how I got here.  Rinoa doesn't exactly know where we are, she says that she was planning to figure that out once I had woken up.  That tourniquet on my head feels nice, I'm going to have to ask Rinoa where it came from.

It's getting dark now.  Rinoa had already fallen asleep.  She looks so peaceful.  So serene.  So beautiful.  It's too bad that this won't last for much longer.  Eventually this peace will break, and, if it's anything like before, everything will slide into shit.

Later.

Hato Shurtleff