Engulfed by darkness, all he could do was walk aimlessly until he could reach the light from afar. Splashing sounds beneath him. Mud beneath tried to drown him. Suffocated, he kept pushing through the everlasting darkness. 

Splash, splash, splash. 

Minutes or hours, seconds or days, he had no way of finding out for sure. 

He sped up his steps. 

He ran. 

Step, step, step. 

Inhale and exhale into a rhythm that follows his each movement. Arms swinging on the sides as he got faster. 

And yet the light never got closer. The more he approached the end of the tunnel, the farther that light became, as if it never wanted anyone to reach it. No matter how fast he was, the distance never seemed to shorten. What caught up to him was only exhaustion. His body trembled amid the pressure. 

Then, something snatched his breath away. 

He turned around to see a skeletal arm grabbing his ankle. It clenched onto his flesh with its fingers, all turned to mere bone. Next to it, another remains of a person clawed its way back from its burial site. Many others would follow. Colored in red and dyed in sorrow, they were the dead, ones he had killed. The blood that had been shed was still stuck to his body. 

No matter how long he had been running. 

No matter how many steps he took.

Eventually, what awaited was an inevitable fall.

***

“Argghhh!”

Pierrot woke up with a violent jerk, body lurching upright like a whip. His heart was pounding after such a nightmare. Wanting to steady himself, he tried to support his weight with his arms–though in this case, he forgot that it wasn’t plural anymore. As he leaned back, without his right arm to aid him, he instead stumbled off the bed and fell to the floor–shoulder first then hips. He managed to protect his head, and the pain wasn’t something to be worried about.

What he was worried about would be the turbulence happening inside his stomach right at this moment. 

That would happen again, and he didn’t have the time to lie there. Soon enough, he got up, dashed forward, and opened the door. From his peripheral, he could see Helena standing in the kitchen with an apron covering her front. 

“Oh, good morning–”

Pierrot didn’t have the luxury of responding. Although it pained him, Pierrot ignored Helena’s greeting and focused on letting his inside out. Once he reached the front yard, the dam broke.

“Blerghhhh!”

Another stream of vomit poured down from his opened mouth. Unlike yesterday, he let out mostly transparent liquid. It was no less unpleasant, though, as the feeling of something exiting his mouth rather than entering was, undoubtedly, disgusting. 

“T-this is the third time….” he said while pressing down on his stomach.

Was the war that traumatizing? It felt as if the scent of blood wouldn’t leave him alone, always accompanying him under his nose. Meanwhile, the terror of killing and being killed manifested in mangled bodies his mind tried to ignore. He clenched his shirt, eyes narrowed as the thought disturbed his mind. 

“Are you okay?”

Helena stood before the door. Her hands were close to her chest, clutching each other. Looking at Pierrot, she furrowed her eyebrows. 

She continued. “Are you feeling unwell? Could it be that you haven’t recovered yet?”

“I-I’m fine,” Pierrot said, tasting the stale taste of vomit with every mouth flap. “J-just need to rest my stomach a little.”

Besides the unpleasant sensation burning in his throat now, his stomach was also rumbling, begging for its first breakfast–a two-hit combo which perfectly started his morning. He felt like a mess already. 

Seeing Pierrot’s state right now, Helena tried to help. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll get you some water.”

“But the mess….”

“Easy. I can deal with it later. What’s important is your upset stomach.”

“T-thanks…, and sorry.”

Helena just smiled and led the way back inside. Once he shut the door, he smelled a fragrance he had been too panicked to realize before. Upon taking that scent in through his nose, his stomach rumbled even louder now. There was a sizzling sound, another stimulation to arouse his hunger. 

“Please wait. Are you fine with cold water?” Helena asked, but as she tried to grab a cup from the cupboard, Pierrot interjected her. 

“It’s fine. I can do it myself,” he said. 

“Here you go, then. Please help yourself.”

Pierrot did as instructed with the cup still in his hand. After filling it with water, he sat and waited until Helena was done. His trembling hands began to calm down as he did so. A few minutes later, she brought two bowls, each one occupying her two hands. She put one in front of Pierrot while the other was for herself. 

“Since you just vomited, I thought it’d be better to go with something lighter on your stomach,” she said with a smile. “So I made you a soup. Be careful though, since it’s still hot.”

The bowl Helena had just placed down was steaming. Within every particle that oozed up, Pierrot got a whiff of a delectable smell he was already salivating for. As he looked down, the surface in that bowl was cream colored with shreds of green herbs sprinkled on top. 

“Sorry for the trouble,” Pierrot said. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Her soothing voice was a delight to hear. “Also, I’m making porridge. I believe it’ll finish soon.”

How saintlike! He thought to himself, words he didn’t have the courage to put verbally. 

“....Thank you. I’m digging in then.”

“Go ahead.”

With his left hand, Pierrot caught a spoonful of soup and slurped it down into his throat. It was warm, making his stomach more relaxed than ever. He couldn’t help but scoop another spoonful as soon as possible. 

“How is it?”

“Amazing….I can’t put it into words.”

“Really? Is it that good?”

Pierrot, with his mouth full of the delectable liquid coating his tongue with flavor, could only nod.

“I see….” Helena immediately stood up, her eyes–flickering with excitement–looking straight at the pot back in the kitchen. “I’ll grab the porridge.”

Helena’s sudden turn around made it unable for Pierrot to see her expression. He just hoped he hadn’t said anything weird that displeased her.

Seconds after that, Helena returned with two bowls in her hands. Same as before, she put one for Pierrot first and then for herself. Before even tasting it, he knew it would be delicious, and it indeed surpassed his expectations. Everything about it was comforting. Its warmth and flavor, both eased into his body like sunlight beaming through after a hurricane. His upset stomach calmed down–the waves had died down. 

In less than fifteen minutes, both bowls–the soup and porridge–were emptied. Having his hunger satisfied, a burp exited his mouth. Of course, he hadn’t anticipated that, and with Helena directly sitting in front of him, he was embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

Helena just laughed it off. In fact, she seemed to be pleased about it. “It’s okay. It just means you’re full, right?”

“Yeah….Beyond so.”

“I’m glad to hear that then.”

“Again, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Helena returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Pierrot, now having a full stomach, didn’t plan to sit and pass the time doing nothing either. 

So he stood up and walked near Helena. He was about to take one of the plates when the lady beside him took it for herself. Confused, his hand reached for another plate, only for it to get stolen again. 

“Emmm….”

Helena looked at him with a side glance. It appeared to him that she was annoyed at something. 

“Just sit down, okay?” she said. “I’m almost finished, anyway.”

“Then, anything else I can help you with?”

“Just relax. Besides, you cleaned the house yesterday, remember? That’s enough help for me,” she said as she put down the last bowl. 

“Still, as much as I can, I want to return the favor, so please.”

Those words made Helena speechless, an expression Pierrot had expected to see. 

“D-did I say something wrong?”

“It’s not that,” Helena said. “It’s just….When my master was still around, she always ordered me to do the chores, both mine and hers, so I’m not too used to hearing your request.” 

“Ohh….I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“Of course not. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to hear. But let me think for a second….”

While thinking, Helena had her right hand cupping her right cheek. She also let out a soft humming, a noise that Pierrot could hear faintly. And as if something just clicked in her head, she clapped both of her hands one time before looking back at Pierrot. 

“Follow me then!”