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The ghosts, the haunting visages of the people that Matteo had left behind in favor of the comfort the small apartment could offer. Their silhouettes lingered against the walls, and whenever M lied down to fall asleep each night, their eyes stayed open, unblinking. Simply staring at the ceiling as they try to forget the bitter cold, the cramped cabins, the ever pressing sense that their lungs were being compressed by Rikke's cold inanimate hands.
They had a tendency to forget to breathe.
After nearly dying themselves during the experiment due to the lack of oxygen, not only was their anemia ever so persistent, but it had become increasingly apparent to them that they could've died on multiple occasions. Their mind had been focused on survival, back then, on saving as many people as they could in order to protest the very nature of the experiment. Willing to lead Maro and Ayaka to their deaths if it meant one final act of defiance. It was funny一 how they always forgave the actions of the others, but could never see the sense in their own.
Their eyes would then, finally, flicker away from the ceiling to glance to the open door, watching blankly as someone's lingering figure slipped into the darkness.
It had been a week, just a week since returning 'home' when they barely recognized it as such. The surgeries had been extensive, there had been news coverage, but it hadn't mattered because during their time at the hospital they could smile cheerily at their friends and keep their spirits up. The hand that was hooked up to an IV laying limply at their side as they used the other to brush their fingers over the others' skin. When they were close together, of course. All of the featherlight touches had been used to confirm that Ayaka and Maro were finally safe.
Being sent home was an odd experience, their parents had embraced them and held them close, the love emanating from them enough to convince Matteo that this hadn't been a lie, too.
They trusted Atheer of course, how couldn't they..? They could just barely bring themselves to trust others again but they did, their eyes temporarily fixating on themselves as they stared at the reflection in the mirror. They looked disheveled, patched together, but like 'M' nonetheless. Tea, Eli's stuffed animal... they had refused to let the hospital staff take it away from them, and it was only when Atheer promised to wash it and deliver it to them that they had finally let go. Now that the experiment was over... they were able to allow themselves to slow down. To stay hung up on the things said to them before a person's death. To remember the times that they had wrapped their arms around someone who was going to die一 not that they had felt unfamiliar with the sensation. If death was quiet, it would be different. But the deaths in that cage had been abrupt, painful, meant to mock them. They can remember it all, the sensation of warm droplets of blood falling across their face, bits of a human being getting stuck in their hair, their boots一 soaked through with what remained of the five who died because of Rikke.
Their lifeless eyes, staring, watching, strung up on a chain in the sky that caused M to never look up unless they were in an enclosed space. The library, (Fawkes, Eli, Carmen...) and the cabins, (Mercer, Noel... it was almost as easy as counting numbers...) the only places where they let themselves gaze at the ceiling一 wondering exactly what it would feel like to die.
The funeral had perhaps been what had rejuvenated them, in a sense, they had learned about their past from their parents and had factored the information into what they should know.
'M is a home health aide, someone who helps others without a second thought, who even attends the funerals of their patients...'
There have been many funerals.
They had known that Odin would be represented in one of the caskets, and for a second they understand why he had chosen to destroy everything一 what would any of them have done with what was left of the others? It was better this way, to sit next to an empty casket and lean their head back against it, speaking in soft strings of Spanish to the spirit of the person within. They're sure that they're watching them now, perhaps they feel loved, and M feels, just for a moment, a warm gust of wind curl around their figure. An embrace, a brief one, as the sunshine beams down on them.
They don't believe in ghosts, not really, but in that moment they accept it, they allow themselves to think that ghosts were real, and that the ones who had died hadn't simply vanished into the abyss.
Not that they would, in any case一 M had vowed to keep them alive, to carry them to the finish line. Though, they suppose that the celebration of life had been it.
It was probably during the funeral in which M became increasingly attached, while still managing to maintain their serious front. Constantly standing close to their friends, offering supportive glances and lopsided smiles, holding onto their hands when they saw their weaknesses begin to blossom.
They could care less about the other's watching.
After the funeral, M had returned home, but not before Atheer made sure that M received the proper amount of help. Therapy, they wanted to deny it for so long一 afraid that they would start to remember the past more than they needed to. Afraid of losing the person that they had become during the experiment, afraid of losing themselves to whatever their past self had done. They learned acceptance, eventually. It was part of who they were, after all, simply a forgotten aspect. Whoever they had become because of the Death Cage experiment was who they were now, and it wouldn't change simply by learning about themselves.
M continued their work as a home health aide after that.
Video calling with Ayaka and Maro was always nice, they had felt like they could express their emotions to them, and whenever the trio felt like the one of them needed support, the remaining two would jump in and help the third one up. It was a cycle, a healthy one. It hadn't been dependency, more so the comforting feeling that there would always be someone to catch them if they fell.
It was during those moments where M would tilt their head and smile, their eyes fluttering shut with the overwhelming sensation of happiness.
Matteo Hevel recovered. Even if the wounds obtained from the experiment were still there, they had healed over, ripping open every once in a while but quickly bandaged with caring utterances.
M lived.