February 5,

3001

I wake up with sun in my eyes. The storm subsided! I sit up. The storm shelter is empty and the door is wide open. Shoot. I immediately check for my staff and knife. My staff is right where I left it, and I remember throwing my knife out the door in the night. I can probably find it now the snow is melting. Then it hits me.

I run like never before, leaving my staff behind me, leaping to the door and out. I see Soren about fifteen feet away, kneeling on the ground with my knife in his hand. He has it held up to his chest, pointing towards his heart.

“NO!” I shout, dashing across the grass, snow, and slush towards him. He’s staring into the distance like he can’t hear me.

“Put it down!” I shout desperately. Finally reaching him, I fall down to my knees and grab his hands. I try to pull the knife away but he is incredibly strong. Tears are glittering in his wide eyes and he’s staring ahead blankly.

“Soren please!” I beg, trying to pull his hands down. He ignores me, holding the blade against his chest. In a last resort I put my hand against his chest and slide it in between the knife and his heart. He breaks his gaze and looks down, startled.

“Soren. Don’t do it.” I whisper, my voice shaking. He moves the dagger away from my hand a little.

“Please I don't want to hurt you.” He says monotonously.

“If you want to hurt yourself you have to hurt me too,” I say strongly, “From now on I am your guardian. I will protect you always. I’m not going to let you do this.”

The words just come to my mouth and I realize I felt them deep in my heart the moment I looked into his two beautiful eyes. It’s seems like eternity were stuck like that, him holding up the dagger, me grabbing him and pressing my hand against his chest. The wind doesn’t rustle the trees, and the crows cease cawing.

“Soren.” I break the silence, “I want to travel with you. You can come with me and I’ll take care of you. You can talk to me about anything, I’ll be there for you. Just put down the knife.” His hand shakes hard, and he thrusts down the knife deep into the dirt next to him.

I let out a big breath I was holding, and grab his cold hands in mine. He goes limp and suddenly starts crying in horrible racking sobs, hardly able to breathe. I don’t know what to do except wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. I hold him in my lap like a baby, even though he’s bigger then me. I hold him close as he cries, and I lean my head against his. I can feel him shaking in my arms, with tears soaking his face and tunic.

He cries for over half an hour straight. I hold him the whole time and don’t let go. Suddenly he stops and his head lolls to the side. His eyes are closed.

“Soren?” I ask worriedly, “you with me? Buddy? You okay?”

He’s unconscious. Poor thing cried so hard he fainted. I try to pick him up, and he’s skinny enough I can almost carry him, but not quite. So I just sit there with him.

It’s a whole hour before he wakes up. My legs have gone completely numb and I’m starving. Soren blinks and tries to sit up. He clutches his head and sways unsteadily. I push him back down.

“Shh take it easy. “ I say softly. He lays there for a couple minutes getting his bearings and then sits up very slowly.

“Soren are you okay?” I ask him, “do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head and stands up unsteadily. I stand up next to him and cover the knife that’s still laying on the ground with my foot.

“It’s ok,” Says Soren in hoarse voice, “I won't take the knife.”

I bend down and pick up the knife without taking my eyes off him. I put it away and lead Soren back to the storm shelter. He sits down on the bed wordlessly while I collect my staff.

“You hungry?” I ask him, heading out the door. He follows me silently without answering. I find some edible things ( dried up bitter huckleberries that taste like gasoline) and eat a very small breakfast. Soren refuses to take the food I offer.

We should only have a mile or two to walk before we reach my camper vehicle, which has rations and supplies. Soren doesn’t even ask where we’re going he just follows me silently.

As we’re walking through a peaceful (though mostly dead) forest I do a scan for anything he could hurt himself with, and then start questioning him.

“Hey Soren,” I say offhandedly, “Can we talk?”

He doesn’t answer so I continue.

“Could you tell me about this morning?” I look back at his face and see he’s gone pale and is looking down.

“It’s fine,” I say quickly, “I just want to know why you did it.”

After a moment he answers.

“I can’t tell you about it.” He kicks a rock.

“Okay,” I say, “that’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it.” We walk for another forty five minutes and talk some. Mostly I talk. I tell him a bit about myself, which I never do. But for some reason I want to tell him all about myself. I even tell him my first name.

“Petra.” He repeats my name out loud to himself. “Pretty.” He comments and I blush for some reason.

Then I see the creek up ahead and quicken my pace.

“We’re almost there!” I call excitedly. I reach the edge of the brown oily creek and turn to Soren. He’s no longer next to me. He’s standing a good twenty feet back, frozen. He looks terrified. I jog back over to him.

“What’s the matter?” I ask with concern.

He shakes his head, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“I can’t go there.” He stutters.

“Sure you can. Why couldn’t you?” I ask, taking his hand and pulling him towards the creek. He pulls away, eyes darting wildly.

“Can’t we....go around?” He asks hopefully.

“Um, Soren, it’s a creek. You can’t go around a creek. Buts it’s literally like, 18 inches deep, we just wade through.” I get behind him and try and push him towards the water with no luck. He shakes his head desperately, pulls away from me, and starts backing away. He is staring at the creek like its a poisonous snake.

“Soren? Your not...scared, are you?” I ask him. He looks on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“I can’t do it,” he stutters, “water. I can’t go near the water.”

I take his hand and hold him still.

“Listen buddy. Am I picking up on an extreme phobia of water? Because that’s ok. This creek is nothing. It’s not dangerous. You just have to step through it, ok?” I tell him looking straight into his eyes. He looks from me to the water and back at me.

“Petra I can’t go near the water. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” He looks away from me ashamedly.

“We have to cross. Nothing bad will happen, just trust me.” I say calmly, trying to guide him towards the little polluted creek again. He stumbles slowly towards the creek, one step at a time.

“There you go...” I croon, “you can do it. Just keep walking.”

His face has gone blank, but he moves forward, inch by inch. It takes several minutes to even get to the edge of the creek. Then Soren stops.

“Come on,” I prompt, “you can do it. You’re so close. Just one step at a time. You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

He takes a deep wavering breath and squeezes his eyes shut. He thrusts out his hand towards me.

“Just pull me through,” He moans, “I will trust you Petra.”

I grasp his hand and wrap my other arm around his shoulder.

“You can trust me,” I say calmly, “you’ll be just fine. Just relax and hold my hand.” I march into the brook, and Soren starts whimpering like a injured dog. He clings to me, tears leaking from his tightly shut eyes.

His muscles lock up in fear and he can’t step foreword. I pull him onward, half carrying him. He starts crying out loud and trembling violently. I look away, embarrassed for him as he wets himself helplessly, like a terrified animal.

I should dislike him for being so weak and helpless and strange. But I have never met someone with such grave issues, mental illness, helplessness, and fear. And instead of shunning it, I want nothing more than to help him and nurse him back to health.

It takes us more than two whole minutes to cross the small stream, and it felt like hours. We finally collapse on the bank. He curls up, panting and crying. I sit back and give him some space to recover from the ordeal.

After a minute he calms himself and slowly opens his tearful eyes.

“Your ok. We made it.” I tell him. He looks down at the wet spot between his legs in shame. I feel awkward and look at the ground.

“Hey, um, Soren, don’t feel embarrassed or anything. You were really scared...”

His pale face burns bright in shame and he squirms uncomfortably.

“Y-you noticed?” He stammers nervously.

“Oh, no, ...well, I mean yes, but it’s okay,” I stumble over my words, “Don’t feel embarrassed or anything.”

His face looks pained and he bites his lip shamefully.

“I’m so sorry, you must think I’m such a coward...” he whispers. I feel so bad for him. I can’t imagine what awful abuse he’s gone through that made him like this.

“I don’t think that at all. I think you’re very brave. You crossed the creek you were scared of!” I point out. But I’m kind of lying to him. He’s the most cowardly person I’ve ever met.

But he’s obviously very emotionally scarred, anxious, suicidal, and possibly has some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I really can’t get on his case for having strange phobias and things.

I quietly take off my oversized oil slick trench coat and hand it to him.

“Here. Take off that awful tarp thing and wear this until I can give you something else.” I tell him without looking at his eyes. He turns his back to me and discards his tunic, exposing his bare skin.

Now he’s hardly clothed, I can tell he’s even more malnourished and thin than I thought, I can see every rib and bone. On his back he has long red gashes, some look fresh and raw, others are old scars.

That’s not a self-inflicted injury. That’s a cruel old fashioned lashing with an electrified wire flay like people used to use on cattle. That was deemed too inhumane several decades ago, now cattle are born and die in the same tiny cage, which I find just as cruel.

Soren pulls the coat I gave him on and wrapped it around himself tightly.

“That’s better.” I say approvingly, and we continue walking.