Archive of Our Own ^beta

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1.12.20XX

I haven’t written in a little while. I figured I should start again.

I officially have just under a year left. I can’t really decide if the time has gone by fast or slow; I think it was both at some parts. The days that I wanted to savor flew by, and the days I wanted to pass dragged on. 

One of the prison guards asked me again today if I would like to try using a computer. I told him, again, that I would think about it. It’s probably kind of silly, being afraid to see the new state of technology up close – it’s been nine years after all. I’m sure most computers have shrunk to a third of their size by now.

I’ll admit, the idea is a bit exciting. So I don’t know why there’s something holding me back.

When I try to think about what life will be like once I’m released, I… it’s difficult. I guess that’s what a decade in the same spot will do to you, right? I probably should be happy that I’ve managed to stay as sane as I have. Sure, it’s jail, but I accepted my sentence for my wrongdoing. 

I suppose it’s just strange that it’s finally almost over.

In a perfect world, I would get to see you again. It won’t be possible, and I’ve accepted that as well, because I’ve decided I want to keep moving forward. I don’t really know what it is, but there’s something lingering in the back of my head that I can’t quite grasp, like memories I’ve forgotten about. Maybe they’re all just weird dreams that got buried away.

Other than that, I don’t have much more to say since last time. Nothing particularly exciting ever happens, as I’m sure you know by now. I finished two paintings since I last wrote; one of a city at night, and another of a meadow at sunset with blue flowers. I have to wonder if the images I end up painting from my mind look anything like the real thing at all.

I ate well today. I want to keep up my energy a bit more. We can call that my New Year’s Resolution.

2.04.20XX

Inspector Cabanela came to visit me again earlier today. To be honest, his visits – all unrequested, I might add – were pretty annoying at first. He was far too chipper talking to the guy that he had just thrown in jail (although, that might just be how he is…). 

Over time, though, I think I’ve come to enjoy his company. We’ve actually begun to carry some normal conversations here and there. 

I still don’t understand why he comes here. I honestly doubt he visits all the other convicts he’s put away like this, much less actually talk to them like they’re a normal person. I can only assume it’s a matter of easing his guilt over what happened nine years ago. He probably thinks it’s his fault that I ended up doing what I did in the first place, and I say this because I think it’s his fault too.

The truth, though, is that we were both out of line that day, and he was just the domino that set off the contraption. I can’t truly place the blame on him for making me point a gun at a child; that was my own mistake, whether he was the reason I had the gun or not. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is, we were both in the wrong, and it’s hard to still hold onto it all so tightly after so much time has passed. I choose to believe he’s truly remorseful, like I was. 

Err, I realize I haven’t actually mentioned anything we talked about today. The Inspector tells me a lot about Detective Jowd’s daughter, who is turning eleven this year. You’d think it would be a bit difficult to care very much about the kid of the detective who chased you down and nearly shot you, but it’s hard to not see her as a sweet and kind girl after hearing about her for years at every visit.

It’s not as though I really saw Detective Jowd as a bad person or anything, back when everything first happened.  He visited me a couple times towards the beginning of my sentence to apologize profusely for his actions, which was something I just wasn’t expecting. Geez, I had really run into every inexperienced cop in the department that day. He still accompanies Inspector Cabanela every now and then.

Something else the Detective did was thank me for saving Lynne, the girl from the park. This, in particular, could never quite sink into my head.

To this day, I have barely any recollection of saving her. I’ve been told how it happened, over and over, and I still struggle to picture it. The only thing I really remember is hazily heaving something heavy away from me, and then the blinding pain of that mascot crushing my body. Really not much I can salvage outside of that.

It’s something I end up pushing to the back of my mind a lot. The girl wasn’t hurt, so it’s all done and in the past. I wonder about it, but it just feels like the answer is out of reach somehow.

Still, I’d like to see her at some point, just to see how she’s doing. If she would be willing to see me, that is. The same goes for the Detective’s daughter.

Anyway, I’m rambling a bit again. Maybe the Inspector got me in a better mood. Or an introspective one, at least. He has a weird knack for that.

I hope to finish another painting before I write again. I ate well today.

3.25.20XX

I finally tried a modern-day computer a couple weeks ago.

That feels odd to say, as if I’m some denizen of the past that traveled through time. In actuality, it’s not all that outlandish, considering that even the computers I used for all my work several years ago were a bit dated. 

It’s strange, right? You would expect me to be on top of all the latest technology at all times. Even I’m surprised that I’ve somehow managed to form such a disconnect to something that was my entire life not that long ago. Detective Jowd gave me some advice early on to focus my efforts onto learning a new, non-digital skill to pass the time. “If I were stuck in prison with all that time on my hands, I would personally try out painting,” he had said.

And so I did, and it was tough. Maybe you know this, but I was never very artsy or right-brained. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the beauty of artwork or its possible meanings; I just was never able to come up with many artistic ideas myself. The technical aspects were easy enough to learn, but when it came to subject matter, I was overwhelmed and had no idea where to start.

So, I decided to approach it from a different angle. How do I get the vision in my head onto the canvas? If I could lay the steps out in a simple way, it couldn’t be that hard. What’s most efficient, what’s most effective; how do I optimize the process while still keeping the quality I was aiming for?

I wonder if you’re laughing to yourself right now. Yes, I know I made it just like my work. But actually executing it was still difficult!

It didn’t matter how seamless my process was or how organized my way of thinking was; I still sucked. As most painters do when they start out, I’d hope. But, maybe there’s a little bit more of a right-brain in my head than I initially thought. It’s been nine years now, of course, so I do think I’ve gotten rather good at painting.

That being said, I’d never show you the ones from the first couple years. You would probably still like them, but personally, I’m looking forward to burning them once I get out of here.

I guess that brings me back to the computer. A state-of-the-art lightweight laptop – which weighs a fraction of my old personal one – with clean keys and a big, clear screen. The matte keyboard surface was so smooth it almost felt bad against my fingers. 

I was supervised the whole time I played around with it, and the system was completely barred from any kind of internet access. I think the guards were nervous that I would use it to hack into the prison system and shut everything down, or something like that (which may not be impossible to do). Because of that, one of them nervously snatched the computer away from me after around fifteen minutes and told me my time was up.

I wasn’t really disappointed, since it was a privilege to get to use it in the first place. That amount of time was all I needed to make an important decision in my head: the moment I’m free, I’m going to go to a second-hand electronics shop and purchase the same model of computer I had nine years ago.

I ate a little bit less today. I suppose I’ve been a bit nervous lately, so I’ll try to build my appetite up again.

4.16.20XX

It’s not that us prisoners never get to go outside; we do, at least once a day in fact. There is a prison yard, despite the prison itself being so small. 

April as a rainy month has been failing me so far. I’m actually not particularly drawn to rain more than any other kind of weather – if anything, I like a nice, partially overcast day so it’s not too bright or dark. It gives me a little bit of energy when I glance out the window and see some good clouds.

But these clouds are giving us nothing! We’ve gotten almost no rain so far. …It’s not actually that big of a deal, but I’ve been running out of things to talk about, if that wasn’t becoming obvious.

Inspector Cabanela paid me another visit today. He also came by a couple of weeks ago, too. He’s been slowly showing up more and more frequently; I wonder if he’s bored, or lonely.

The weather came up in our conversation today. The thing about the Inspector is that he usually carries around this blindingly bright yellow umbrella, even when it’s not raining. When I asked him about it, he said:

“Ahaha! You just neeeever know when it’s going to start pouring, baby!”

It wasn’t really the kind of answer I was expecting. It sounds like it should be a joke, right? 

So I told him, “It’s been sunny all day so far. You don’t actually expect it to rain today, do you?”

He laughed again. “Rain can come out of nowhere, baby! Even when you least expect it!” And then he swung his umbrella around and popped it open inside the visiting room.

Inspector Cabanela never stopped being annoying, I should add. I swear I can’t understand him half the time, and my eye twitches a little bit every time he says “baby.” I think it might have shown on my face that I was embarrassed to be in the same room as him, because he grabbed me out of my seat, stuck the umbrella in my hand, and twirled me around with it. I ate well today, so he should be lucky I didn’t immediately lose my lunch all over his fancy dancing shoes.

…Okay, I can already hear you laughing at me. This is just what he does. For EVERYONE. If I’m not walking into the visiting room to see Cabanela already tangoing with Officer Bailey or someone, then something is wrong.  

And it’s annoying. Really, I have to mentally prepare myself every time he comes to the prison to be able to withstand The Full Experience that he brings with him. Because half the time I’ll end up like today, dizzy on the floor with an open umbrella in my hand and a very tall man laughing over me.

He has a real jovial, contagious laugh. While trying to push back the nausea, I found that I was laughing a bit too.

I already said it, but I ate well today, and against all odds, I kept it all down.

5.10.20XX

Something really interesting happened yesterday.

I got a visitor, someone who has never visited me before. Honestly, she looked like she had never even seen me before, which I guess would make sense.

Detective Jowd left me alone in the room with Lynne, the girl from the park, all grown up now. She looked very well, which was good. She had Cabanela’s pep in her step and Jowd’s clever gleam in her eyes (and honestly, I was a bit surprised to find out she wasn’t Jowd’s daughter…).

She sat down across from me, and looked me directly in the eyes. I don’t know if she saw me glance away a couple times.

And then, without warning, she shot up out of her chair, bowed almost absurdly deeply, and shouted:

“THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME A LONG TIME AGO!”

I think it must have been a solid twenty seconds before I said anything. Every time I think these people couldn’t confuse me more, they always find a way. 

Firstly, please don’t shout, we’re right here in the same small room. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the noise. Secondly, I’ve told everyone over and over that I really don’t remember how that whole situation unfolded, so I can’t genuinely accept anyone’s thanks; it feels too much like taking credit for something I didn’t do.

And, thirdly… did everyone forget why I’m in prison in the first place?! The girl who came out of her way here to thank me is the same girl I held hostage in a standoff. I honestly figured she would never want to see me again, and move on with her life… 

I did a good and bad thing that day. Can they cancel each other out, and we can call it even?

… Oh, don’t look at me that way. I know that’s not how it works. It would sure be nice, though.

After that happened, though, she struck up a conversation like I was just any other person; like niece, like… uncle? I guess? (Seriously, I have no idea what kind of adoptive family tree is going on here…) It was honestly a nice talk about unimportant things. She told me I needed to try the Chicken Kitchen once I’m out, and that she’ll treat me. Then she sheepishly thumbed through her wallet and asked if I could treat the time afterwards.

It was a funny request. And it didn’t sound so bad.

“Now I’ll have something to look forward to,” I told her. She flashed a big smile in response.

Then she had to practically be dragged out of the visiting room by Jowd, while she was still in the middle of excitedly telling me about how she was finally becoming a detective later this year. I was able to wave her goodbye with a genuine smile. The whole ordeal confused me, but I was grateful.

Just when I was about to get up to leave, though, there was a familiar figure at the door.

“I see you’ve fiiiinally properly met my baby.”

Ah, this guy again.

“Did you take up my baby’s offer for dinner?” I was already bracing myself for another elaborate dance move, but the Inspector was just calmly leaning on the edge of the doorway.

“Err, yes. It seems I’m finally starting to fill out a schedule with things to do after I’m released.”

He said something peculiar next. “I can fill up one more calendar spot for ya. Drinks on me some night after you’re out, all right?”

I didn’t really know what to say. I must’ve been silent for a full twenty seconds, again. After that, he turned around to leave while saying “I’m just tryin’ to give you one more thing you could look forward to, maaan.”

“Wait!” I called out without really realizing it. For whatever reason, there was a flash of panic in my chest when he stepped away from the door.

“I’ll… put it on my schedule. Drinks on you.”

He seemed really genuinely happy at that. “Drinks on me, baaaaby! It’s a date, then!”

Um, I’m going to ignore that last part.

He whirlwinded his way out of the visitor’s room, and I was left alone again. I went back to my cell and finished another painting: a pine forest with impossibly tall trees. It overwhelmed me somehow, so I tucked it away into the corner of my cell.

I didn’t eat so well today. I’ll try better tomorrow. 

6.30.20XX

I nearly forgot to write for this month. 

I’ve been painting more and more recently. I get this feeling that presses down on the back of my neck, telling me that I’m running out of time, even though it’s not true.

I’ve painted a far-away view of a city, a serene-looking farm, and a frozen lake. I wonder if that last one has anything to do with the rising heat recently.

[There’s a couple blank lines with erased pencil marks left behind.]

I think what happened last month scared me a little bit. 

For whatever reason, I was struck with a weird thought. Do I really want this to end?

It’s so strange, right? You’re supposed to be happy to get out of prison, right? But, when I think about leaving and finally being out and on my own, I can’t help but feel afraid. I’m going to be left even more alone than before, behind on modern technology, barely any possessions or anywhere to go. 

So, for a moment I thought to myself, “It would be nice if things would all just stay the same.” I get to keep myself busy  all day and get the occasional visitor; someone who goes out of their way to see me, not out of any real obligation. I guess it didn’t hit me until recently, the nature of all these visits.

Ahaha. It really is silly, isn’t it. When I write it out like that, it seems especially silly.

I just don’t know anymore. I haven’t eaten today.

Chapter Text

7.09.20XX

It's been getting very warm recently. Even inside, it’s hard to keep on my smock when I paint. Really, it’s awfully thick material for something that’s just supposed to catch stray flecks. 

If we weren’t feeling the lack of rain before, we really are now. I’m actually starting to dread the daily trips outside. July is one of the worst months to be stuck in prison – you can’t change into different clothes, the AC system for the cells is subpar at best, and you’re always getting an amplified version of every prison guard’s BO.

I think I’ve told you this before, but my favorite season is fall. I really like when everything starts to cool down, and the leaves begin to change color. 

Well, ideally, at least. I’ve had my fair share of falls where the temperatures plummet out of nowhere and everything dies instantly. Not nearly as pretty, of course, but at least it’s bearable to wear a suit outside again.

Not so much now. I think I was desperate for some kind of relief, because I started painting beaches. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been to one (obviously) so maybe I can look forward to seeing that in person again too. I always hoped that we could go to one together someday. It’s one of the few things I actually like about summer.

When I get out, I’ll probably end up going to see one by myself. It will be cold by then, and the water will be freezing, but maybe I’ll just stay on the shore and watch the waves. The sun won’t be beating down on me, at least.

Clearly, I’m already longing for fall again. Only a couple of months to go, I guess. Time feels like it’s been passing fairly quickly.

I’ve been getting a few less visits recently. Lynne did come to see me again, however, to pick up right where she left off before. I don’t know what it is, but she can find a way to make even the most boring story sound entertaining. It almost makes me feel like she truly comes by on her own volition, and not just because Detective Jowd tells her to (or it may be that he didn’t have to at all this time). 

She also mentioned some big case that was keeping the Special Investigations Unit pretty occupied at the moment. I’m guessing that’s the reason I haven’t seen Inspector Cabanela in a while.

“I really can’t tell you many details about it,” she said before telling me several details that she probably shouldn’t have told me about. I could see the guards becoming a bit nervous, so they told her that her time was up just a few minutes early. 

“Don’t forget about the Chicken Kitchen!” she called out as she left. It’s a bit hard to think about hot food at the moment.

I did eat better today. I should still aim for more, I think.

8.27.20XX

I’ve been experimenting more with mixing colors recently. It’s really interesting how every single color can be made with black, white and primaries. Part of me just wants to fill a whole canvas with a gradient of every color I can make. I don’t think it would look very pretty in the end, but it might be fun.

You know, this whole time I’ve been painting, I’ve been using acrylic paints. Did you know it’s made with plastic? That’s the binder that keeps it together; it was pretty interesting when I found out, maybe just because I never really bothered to pay attention to what goes into art supplies before now.

Acrylic paints are much cheaper than oil paints, which is what a lot of professional painters use. It’s expected, of course, that the cheaper stuff gets sent to prisons… but, I think I haven’t really minded using acrylics in the end. 

They dry very quickly, while apparently oil paint takes a very long time to dry. For a while now, the quick drying has suited me, because I get impatient about fixing any mistakes, and I get anxious to layer my colors. But, I think I’ve gotten far more calm and patient over time when it comes to my process, so when I get out, I think I would like to try using oil paints.

There, I can add that to the list. One more reason to go out into the world again.

Speaking of being impatient, I was looking again at some of my paintings from when I first started. It’s really strange to think that they’re all eight or nine years old now…

Like I said at some point before, they’re really bad. But not just because I was inexperienced. Looking at them closer, it really looks like I painted with a lot of anger and fear. The brush strokes are so wild and stressed, colors mixed in places they shouldn’t have been.

Of course, I remember being angry. My first several months in prison weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

It’s true I accepted my sentence for my mistakes, but it only took a few long weeks in the prison hospital bed, my legs and lower body aching from slowly, slowly healing, to get impatient and frustrated with my situation. Once I could walk again, I would just be thrown in a different cell to spend the remaining 95% of my time.

I was angry at myself for ever letting something like this happen. What was I thinking, threatening to shoot a kid like that? Who DOES that?? I thought that a lot over and over, like I just couldn’t believe myself for doing it. To be honest, it’s all a bit fuzzy now; I must’ve been really out of it.

I couldn’t even praise myself for subsequently saving Lynne, the same girl I just threatened to kill. I felt like I didn’t deserve it.

Of course, that anger leaked out of me and was inevitably flung onto others. When Detective Jowd first visited me in the hospital, it was manageable; I suppose he’s the reason I’m still alive, after all. With the way he talked to me, I knew he was a genuine guy.

And then Inspector Cabanela walked into the room,

Which is when I had the satisfying split-second thought of hurling my heart monitor directly at him.

Obviously, I didn’t (well, couldn’t) given the condition I was in, but I really wanted to. How dare he show his face in here? This whole thing was his fault! None of this ever would have happened if it weren’t for him! 

I don’t even think I remember a word he said, because I was focusing all my energy on not yelling profanities; I know I definitely had a few choice words for him that no one in that hospital would have liked to hear. Detective Jowd must have seen the veins bulging in my forehead or something, because he nervously dragged the Inspector out of the room pretty quickly. Clearly I was not ready.

It was those kinds of emotions I channeled into my earlier paintings, I think. I was tearing at the Inspector’s face with my brush. And maybe at my own, too.

I got a bit off track today. I’ve been working hard to keep my appetite up recently. 

9.13.20XX

Finally, it’s beginning to cool off a bit.

The guards have been asking me if I have any specific plans for when I get out in a few months, such as where I’m going to stay. They probably think that I don’t want to tell them, but the truth is that I just don’t know.

Life is anything but easy for ex-convicts, from what I know. So many of them have nowhere to go, and no one wants anything to do with them because of what they’ve done. 

I say I want to do certain things when I get out, like go to the beach or use special paints, but I’ve known all along it’s wishful thinking. I’ll be lucky to find a place to stay, and maybe find a job. That’s the unfortunate reality.

Here in my cell, I’d like to think I’m in a relatively stable condition, but who knows how things will be in December. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, but I really can’t for much longer.

On another note, I finally got another visit from Inspector Cabanela yesterday. God, what am I saying “finally” for… that months-long break from him was definitely needed.

Although, he was noticeably a bit less chipper than usual today. He was only dancing with the guards for five minutes today instead of his usual fifteen. 

It wasn’t till he finally sat down that I could see how exhausted he looked, which is when I thought back to that big case Lynne was telling me about. Frankly, I didn’t even know the Inspector could get exhausted, so it was an interesting sight.

Despite it all, he was keeping up his usual flashy smile and weird remarks that I really never know how to interpret. Seriously, sometimes I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or not.

It seemed clear, though, that he wanted ME to do most of the talking today, judging by all the prodding questions he was asking me. “Have you been painting more?” “Happy it’s starting to cool off?” “Got any biiiiig plans for your release?”

Yes, yes, and noooo. Is what I would have said, if I were smart.

But somehow, somehow, he’s just always rubbing off his good mood on other people like a child wiping their snot on someone else’s sleeve. And his snot must’ve found its way onto my sleeve, because I was rambling like an idiot by the time the visit was over.

Okay, it sounds gross when I put it like that. But you get my point, right? I don’t know how he does it.

It wasn’t until the Inspector got up to leave that I realized he’d barely said anything the whole time, outside of getting me to talk. I guess it’s kind of ironic, considering the complete opposite thing happened at that interrogation…

He still held that tired smile on his face as he twirled – only once, notably – out of the visitor’s room, and for some reason, I wondered for a moment if Inspector Cabanela had anyone to watch over him when he was tired or sick. Or, just in general. Surely Detective Jowd keeps him out of trouble, when he can… but Jowd has his own life, too; I can’t really imagine Cabanela trying to insert himself into a family that isn’t really his. (Er, actually, scratch that, he probably would.)

Anyway, I don’t really know why I’m even bothering to think about that. The Inspector’s life is none of my business.

I ate extra today, and I’m feeling the effects of it now. I might try not to do that in the future.

10.27.20XX

Do you know of any prisons that celebrate Halloween? Actually, no, here’s a better question. Do any prisons celebrate Halloween??

Well, this one does, and they’ve done it for the past nine years. I guess  it can’t be that surprising with all the crazy characters that roam around this place. But, seriously, you don’t usually think of Halloween decorations lining the walls of a high-security prison.

Maybe “celebrate” is a strong word after all, though. The most that really happens is several officers showing up to work with some kind of small accessory that could be deemed a costume. I’m really telling you, there’s no way this would fly at any other prison.

I remember my first Halloween here relatively clearly, and I don’t really know if that’s a good or bad thing. It was around this time – ten years ago, I suppose – that I received my first REAL visit from Inspector Cabanela.

Ugh, this guy has been coming up in my entries too often recently.

After the heart monitor-throwing incident earlier that year (or lack thereof, technically), I think Detective Jowd made it a point to wait a while before he let Inspector Cabanela see me again. Hopefully during all that time, he would actually think about what he might say to me, I thought.

And, strangely enough, that seemed to be what happened.

I was back in the normal prison by that point, slowly adjusting to my new abode for the next decade, and still learning how to effectively use a wheelchair. (I think that period of time was the most I had ever built my upper body strength in my entire life.) And, I was doing about as well as you could imagine; frustrated over my paintings, tired from moving around, and utterly confused by the amount of Halloweenish activities taking place around me. Not really in the best mood that day, I’d say.

So, when I was called to the visitor’s room and told that the Inspector was there to see me, my brain was just a few ticks away from shutting down completely. This is it. This is the day that I’ll kill myself in front of everyone.

I didn’t have that luxury, though, and instead got sent to the clown house with the ringmaster waiting for me. Frankly, I don’t think I had it in me to be furious anymore at that point, so I was a bit resigned to the chance to unload on him. Yes, sedate and immobilize the guy before letting the Inspector anywhere near him, the guards all probably said to each other.

Defeated and presented before him like some sacrifice, he sat down and started talking to me like I was an old friend.

“Haaaappy Halloween, baby! How have you been?”

Shitty.

“Got any costume plans for tonight?”

Why, yes, you didn’t recognize my outfit as a discolored bottle of Pepto Bismol?

“Keepin’ yourself busy lately?”

I don’t really know; the past several months all blur together and I’m not sure what day of the week it is.

None of this I actually ended up saying, of course, but I wanted to. I was waiting for him to say something wrong, something that would turn me off entirely, and then I could ask to leave early. I don’t have the energy to play with you today, Inspector.  

But that was when he stopped talking, and suddenly looked at me all serious. Even while being so out of it, I got a bit nervous.

And then, I remember exactly what he said next:

“I’m sorry. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret what I did in that interrogation room.” 

… Well, I would sure hope so.

Again, I didn’t say that. At the time, I’m not even sure I thought it. I was really just stunned. Inspector Cabanela? Sorry? Like… actually?

He really was probably waiting for me to say something, because we were both silent for what felt like five whole minutes. I think it was probably the longest I had ever seen him go without smiling.

“W- huh..? Err, uh…” I was trying to come up with something to say, but it was difficult with him staring me down like he was. Not aggressively, like on that day, but sincerely. No matter what he does, he always finds some way to be overwhelming.

“I… Thank you. For saying so,” I eventually squeaked out. I really was thankful. Something in my heart slowed down a little bit when the Inspector’s face softened. And then the thin line of his mouth spread out into a warm, genuine smile.

“Glad you can manage to stay in the same room as me, Red.”

I hadn’t worn red since the day I got my legs crushed. “Pink” would have been more accurate, honestly. But, okay.

“I guess it’s a little easier now.” I meant it lightheartedly, but I don’t think I was smiling.

We didn’t say much else to each other before the visiting time was up, and the Inspector got up to leave. He seemed more or less satisfied, which I’m sure I wrecked as soon as I spoke again.

“I’m sorry if this is a bad thing to ask of you, but… please don’t come back for a while.” 

I really just needed to gather my thoughts for the time being, I had decided. I generally wasn't in a good state to have conversations with many people at all, but especially not Inspector Cabanela. If things continued on like this, I was afraid I would just find some way to ruin it all. I needed to reset, and then, maybe, things could start over.

And when I looked up at the Inspector expecting him to be hurt, or disappointed, I was a little more stunned when he just kept that same smile on his face. Did he actually… understand?

“Rooooger that, baby!” he called as he spun out the door.

After that, I didn’t see him for several years.

…

Eventful Halloween, huh? None of the others have quite matched up to that one. He really didn’t show up for several years; I was kind of impressed, and then I realized that he probably just forgot about me. So, imagine my surprise when he pranced in a half decade later, on Halloween again, all decked out in costume. Requesting to see lucky ol’ me.  

Ah, clearly the start of a wonderful friendship. I found myself wishing I could replace his pirate hat and eyepatch with a giant pumpkin so I could swing a bat at it and smash it. Normal things to imagine, I’m sure.

Well, I’ve wasted quite a bit of paper with this entry. I’m becoming more talkative as the weather cools down, maybe. You said you always liked to read my writing, so you’re definitely getting a good amount of material. I don’t know how you managed to read it at all, actually; all of it looks like chicken scratch to me.

I ate well today.

11.24.20XX

I get released a month from today. I’ve slowly started organizing various things I want to keep, and what I want to trash. Old papers, notes from years and years ago that I’d rather no one read, scrapped paintings that got hidden away…

I ended up dividing my paintings into different piles, too. While there are paintings that certainly belong in the garbage… I don’t know. Throwing them in the prison garbage doesn’t feel right. I should find some other way to send them off. 

As for forming some kind of plan for immediately after I get out, I… still have nothing. All these months to plan, and still nothing. Well, actually, that’s not fair of me to say. There’s nothing I could have planned; no one’s going to be willing to take me in. After ten years, the only connections I really have are to… them, I guess. Which is kind of absurd, and pathetic, but it’s true.

Detective Jowd came by very briefly today with his daughter. She seems to be growing up very nicely, and I thought back to the wallet pictures of her as a toddler that the Detective had shown me once. I don’t think she saw me at any point, but it’s probably for the best. 

I’ve been sleeping more and painting less recently. There are too many thoughts swirling around in the back of my head, and I don’t have very much paint left anyway, so I’ve decided to preserve it for this last remaining month. 

The last one I finished was a starry sky with a huge moon. I tried to use some green this time, which gave it a unique effect. It might do well as one of my last paintings in prison, I think.

I’ve been eating the same amount consistently, lately. It feels nice to be on a routine while I’m still able to.

12.12.20XX

Truth be told, this may end up being my last entry. Maybe just for a while, on the off chance that I decide to keep writing after I’m released, but it’s unlikely.

Well. There’s been a turn of events that I should probably explain. Don’t worry, I’m still getting released on time, it’s got nothing to do with that. It’s… a bit hard to say, I suppose because I’m still embarrassed that I agreed to it at all. 

Apparently, I’m going to stay with Inspector Cabanela after I’m released. DON’T LAUGH! I know how this sounds, okay? Ugh. Even now, I’m second guessing if this is a good idea at all… 

The reality is, I should just be glad to have any place to stay. That’s the way I’m looking at it. Not the fact that I’m going to have to share a living quarters with the same man I’ve been complaining about for the past eleven months. 

The story of how this came about isn’t even very interesting, either. Some prisoners need to have a close eye kept on them after they’re released – which I guess I qualify for – whether it be for national security reasons or otherwise. And, well, I still needed a place to go after I was released, and after some asking around happened, a candidate ever-so-conveniently stepped in to take one for the team. Killing two birds with one stone, sure.

As hilarious as it all sounds, I’m honestly a little relieved. I won’t be on the streets, and there will be someone I’m… familiar with, I guess. It really may not end up being so bad. And it may only take me a few months to become fully immune to the stench of the Inspector’s overwhelming cologne.

Other than all of that, things have been relatively busy lately. I won’t have much more time to paint, so I’ve set most of my things aside as my “luggage” to keep with me after my release (all of which I assume will be poked and prodded to hell and back to make sure they contain no national secrets). 

I… feel kind of good. Really, for the first time, I believe that things may work out just fine. I’ve changed so much over these past ten years, and I think that maybe, just maybe, there might still be a life out there somewhere for me.

Thank you for listening to me all this time, Sissel. I really do think I can find it in myself to move forward again. 

Chapter Text

[UNDATED]

I wrote so much.

There’s so much. A whole thick stack of papers.

I’m reading through them, slowly. I remember writing them, most of them. As I should, right?

There’s so many. I can barely make out what they say, the handwriting is so bad. All of these dates blend together. They seem meaningless to me now. 

This Yomiel… he worked so hard. He got angry, he had some really vile thoughts here and there. But he worked. He painted and he wrote and he enjoyed his life whenever he could. And he worked so hard to become a better person.

Now, I’ve gone and ruined it, haven’t I? I’ve cursed him with thousands of horrible memories of things that never really happened. I’ve reminded him that he’s not a good person, but an old rotting corpse emitting death wherever it goes.

He was going to live a happy life, and now I’ve gone and thrown him back to square one. 

I wasn’t really sure what exactly was going to happen, jumping ten years into a new future like this. It was wishful thinking to hope that the pain of the last decade would disappear completely just because I’ve been thrown into some kind of new timeline. I knew deep down that I was still going to carry the weight of the sins I committed.

And now I have to go live with Inspector Cabanela. Good fucking God.

The Inspector was the only one I killed up close and personal, did you know? Kamila’s contraption killed Alma. Jowd’s execution would’ve been far away, out of sight. The other half of my deal was meant to take care of Lynne. And the Professor was crushed under rubble before he even knew what was happening.

Cabanela, I tortured like a cat playing with its food. I looked him dead in the eyes when I killed him. I put a bullet in his brain and watched his broken body fall to the floor.

And now, I’m going to live with him?

I’m reading these entries, and I almost can’t believe any of it. All of those memories are in my head now, and I still can’t believe it. Is any of it still salvageable? Has any of his progress been preserved? Ten years of tranquil solitude replaced by ten years of hell.

It’s… gonna be tough, coming back from this one, right, Sissel? I’ve really gotten myself into a fresh new mess.

My old friend – the other Sissel – worked so hard to give me this life. He’s the reason I’m alive and healthy instead of a tortured soul stuck at the bottom of the ocean. I can’t just give it up now, not when I’ve received it as a gift from him. More than that, he’s now bearing MY curse, and he has to live with it. I can’t let that all be for nothing. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Maybe for that reason, I can find it in myself to move forward. Wishful thinking again, perhaps.

But while this Yomiel had it good, he never had Sissel. He never had that loyal friend that followed him and kept him company. He never had what I could never imagine my life without. And even now, my heart aches when I think about how I haven’t seen him in ten years. 

I want to see him again, and hold him in my hands. Until I’m able to do that, I must keep moving forward. Even though I have no energy, even though I’m afraid of the people around me, even though it feels like my life should be over, even though it feels like I was just meant to die.

Until I can properly thank him, I’ll live. And maybe, just maybe, that could be a starting point. 

Today, I will be released. There’s this one painting of the night sky in the corner of the cell; the colors turned out rather nice. It’s still in the early hours of the morning, and it’s really gotten very cold. Even so, I want to take this last chance to add something important to this empty sky.

Something that I’ll know I can look at and feel a faint spark somewhere, anywhere in my body, that might push me to go on just a little longer.

“What, did you manage to do a whole painting per day? There’s so many!”

“I already told you, Inspector, we really don’t need to keep all of them. In fact, I’d be glad to torch a few of these.”

“Woooaaah, baby! We can’t go starting any wildfires now, can we?”

The canvases, stuffed into boxes and tied together, were Tetris-fit in an unnecessarily complex arrangement in the trunk of Cabanela’s car. Two more boxes sat unloaded on the parking lot pavement, and a frustrated-looking Yomiel seemed completely prepared to ditch them.

“All you have are paintings, baby! You’ve got another thing coming if you think we’re leaving any of these behind.” Cabanela winced silently when he heard a slight wooden crack from the set of paintings he was arranging. “All saaaafe and sound!”

“This is ridiculous. We don’t even have to fit them all in here. If it’s really that serious, we can make two trips, right?” There was an edge to Yomiel’s voice that signaled it was time to wrap up the screwing around. Cabanela triumphantly slammed down the trunk hood and then motioned to the extra boxes. 

“Think you could fit those in your lap for the ride back?”

“Wh- Obviously not! That’s definitely a driving hazard, anyway.”

“Heeeey baby, it’s your lap, not mine. I can steer just fine!”

With a huff, Yomiel stepped off to the side to do something along the lines of desperately calming himself down. For whatever reason, he had just been like that, starting today. The cautiously optimistic Yomiel that he had invited to his own home was now replaced by this skittish, short-tempered, anxiously-pacing-around-the-parking-lot ex-con who’s suddenly acting like he’s never had a civil conversation with Cabanela in his life. Ohhh boy. Something about him distinctly reminded Cabanela of his first prison visit, oh so long ago.

“Say, we can leave a few behind with the officers, just for a little while. We should try to take some of them, don’tcha think, baby?”

Yomiel, having returned to the back of the car, was clearly trying to swallow a retort and instead looked toward the boxes. “I guess we can look through them.”

Cabanela was already ahead of him, tearing off the packing tape and lifting each canvas with an “oooh” or “hmm” or “ahh.” He settled on a painting of a forest clearing surrounded by tall trees.

“Ahh, I like this one! We should keep this one. It would look niiiice in our living room.”

Yomiel held back another noise at the usage of “our” and attempted to grab the painting from his hands. “This one is really old. Probably seven or eight years. I have much nicer ones I’ve done more recently,” he said, already preparing to tuck it back away. 

“Whaaat? C’mon now, baby, you don’t give yourself enough credit! Look at these brush strokes! So much emotion! ” Cabanela grabbed the painting back and held it up to the setting sun’s light. He pretended not to notice the color flood in Yomiel’s cheeks as he set the canvas down with a few others.

“Let’s take these, alriiiight? These few can surely fit in your lap for a little car ride.”

“Let’s stop talking about my lap, okay, Inspector?”

Cabanela returned the half-empty boxes to the prison lobby, and the two piled into the car. Just in time, too, as the temperatures were beginning to plummet; there was a chance of a snowstorm later in the night, so they had to make quick work of their business.

Cabanela glanced over at Yomiel in the passenger’s seat, head turned to watch the scenery rush by. On the top of his stack of paintings sat one of a black cat with a red bandana around its neck, standing on some kind of crane in front of a green night sky.

“That’s a reeeaal pretty one, right there. You know, Jowd has a cat that looks just like that.”

Yomiel whipped his head far more vigorously than he expected. “Yes-! Err, uh, does he really? How… interesting.”

“Yep, it’s a reeeaal cutie. Surely we can say hi when we stop by for dinner.”

“Y– … stop by for what?” If there was somehow a way for Yomiel to whip his head around all over again, he did it.

“For dinner, baby! Whaaat, you didn’t think we’d be spending Christmas Eve all by ourselves, didja? Unless you hoped it would just be the two of us!” Cabanela laughed boisterously enough to sway the car back and forth in the lane.

“Wh- N- You- Shut up!! And watch where you’re going!” Yomiel was gripping both the paintings and the door handle, and he would have reached for the wheel too if he had an extra hand.

“Jowd insisted you be there, so don’t worry about intruding, baby! Let’s get a little joooy in you!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yomiel looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He snapped his head back towards the window, intent on ignoring him again, but Cabanela could see the heat rising in his face again.

“It’ll be some nice fun, baby! There’s some people I’d like you to meet. We should pick out a day for those drinks, too. But first, let’s just try to beat this snowstoooorm, baby! All riiiight!”

It was hard to hear over the rumble of the car, but Yomiel sniffed once and quietly mumbled.

“Yeah, it might… be all right.”

“Yeah it will, baaaaby! It’s gettin’ a little icy already!” Cabanela hollered as he swerved around the road, and Yomiel decided it might be a good time to let out those choice words he held back all those years ago.

Chapter Text

1.27.20XX

Okay, sure. Here we go again.

Maybe it was foolish of me to assume I’d break out of my writing habit just because I had finally been released from prison. Despite the fact that I had built it up as a frequent ‘hobby’ over several years, I figured that the dramatic change in environment would require me to rebuild my daily schedule from the ground up again.

Clearly, this is not the case. Barely a month has gone by and I’m already back to it.

It makes sense, in a way. Within this dramatic environment change, I’m clinging to what I know. The things you’ve practiced for the past decade seem to stick, who would have guessed.

This applies to painting, as well. I’ve found that my hand has been itching to create or paint something, so within my new space, a corner has been dedicated to some kind of art studio.

Isn’t it funny? Being locked up has gone and turned me into an artist. The absurdity of this didn’t quite hit me until I had actually set everything up and stepped back. Me, a painter… it’s comforting, in a sense. I actually have a scrap of identity to cling to, which makes my heart settle a little bit.

It’s not like I would have had a choice to leave painting behind, anyway. The Inspector has all but covered the living room walls with my work. He insisted on funding new supplies for me, as well.

I could only get so far into this entry without mentioning him. 

It’s been… strange. For both of us. 

He’s most definitely noticed my shift in attitude from any previous interactions we might have had over the years. I know he’s confused by it, but he’s been surprisingly accommodating as well. I recognize that I’ve been… a bit difficult to deal with, at times.

Well. I think it’s to be expected, at the very least. I’m living with the man I’ve killed in cold blood in another timeline. It feels only right to push him away whenever I can. It’s cruel, but it feels even crueler to pretend as if nothing happened at all. 

I would be deceiving him, if I allowed myself to become friendly. 

And it doesn’t feel like something I would ever properly be able to tell him about, either. How would you even go about that? “I’m sorry I’ve been distant, I can’t get the image of your dead body out of my mind.” And that’s without including the fact that I was the one who killed him. 

The mere thought of spilling the truth terrifies me. I don’t fully understand why, but it does.

But, ultimately, my efforts in warding him off seem to be failing miserably. The harder I try to peel away, the closer he sticks. The longer I’m shut up in my room, the louder he knocks. (He says it’s to make sure I’m still alive, that I need sunlight and fresh air, etc., etc…)

I was foolish (again) to assume that this “roommates” deal would be us living separately in the same space. Inspector Cabanela is clearly not that type of man. 

You should have seen the look on my face when I saw him begin to go through the stack of entries that somehow made it back to the apartment without being trashed. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to snatch something away from someone faster, ever. Keyword: tried. He held onto them when I grabbed them! And once he let go, he just picked up the next stack and started flipping through it! Can this guy not take a hint? I should have known that I would be giving up what little privacy I had when choosing to live with him.

(Choose is a strong word. I did not get to choose.)

Even though I was furious at the time, he settled the score by offering me a notebook the next day. The cover was fairly plain, but you could tell just by feeling the material that it was relatively high quality. The lines on the inner pages are light enough that it could be used for drawing as well. It’s perfect-bound, so you wouldn’t have to rest your hand on top of those uncomfortable spirals while writing.

I suppose I don’t really need to explain all of that, though, considering it’s what I’m writing in right now. Truly, it was foolish of me to think that the Inspector would let me ditch any of my hobbies.

I suppose I should follow suit to my previous entries still. I didn’t eat very well today, but I will work on it.

2.19.XX

I think it’s relatively safe to say that I’ve settled into my new living quarters. It’s hard to believe that it’s almost been two months.

Despite what everyone might think, I don’t actually wear my suit all the time. So, even though it was nice to finally get out of prison garb and into my usual clothes, that was… kind of all I had, at least upon immediately getting out. The rest of my belongings still only consisted of stacks of papers and paintings.

The Inspector offered to lend me his old clothes. Hard no. I’m sure my face was burning at the suggestion.

I decided to use what little money I had left to purchase garments to complete my very small new wardrobe, despite Cabanela’s objections. I really don’t need a lot of clothes in the first place, and I do promise that my suit gets cleaned often. 

Along with this, I’ve been working on keeping my space clean recently. Paints and supplies are one thing, but I’m determined to not let dishes or (my small amount of) laundry make my room too much of a mess. Not when I still feel like I’m staying at someone else’s place.

One motivator is the fact that this apartment is clearly quite new; it’s far too spotless to be more than a year old. The Inspector said that he only moved in a few months back, and he used this as an excuse to put up more paintings and make the space “more homey.”

Notably, it’s a two-bedroom apartment. Even with the Inspector’s job, that can’t be the easiest thing to afford, especially if he doesn’t need the extra space. When I asked him if he was anticipating having a roommate, he laughed and slapped my back a few times. No straight answer for me, I guess.

If he was planning on sharing his living quarters, is that why he moved, I wonder? There’s no way it was all for me. The possibility makes my head spin. 

I’m probably looking too deep into things.

Inspector Cabanela generally keeps his home neat and tidy, I’ve noticed. Whether it’s because there’s someone else living with him or not, I’ll never know. 

Regardless, it makes the space pleasant to live in. It does still have the vague emptiness of a new apartment, even with multiple paintings and frames on each wall. I personally think that a plant or two might make the living room feel fuller, but I wonder if either of us would be capable of keeping even one of them alive.

There’s a small picture frame on the coffee table that I look at sometimes. It’s a photo of the Inspector with Detective Jowd and his wife and daughter. Everyone looks very happy, but my eye keeps getting drawn back to the black cat snuggled into Kamila’s arms. 

I visit Sissel every so often, and it’s usually the highlight of my week. Of course, I talk to the Detective and his family too, but I think they understand that I need my “Sissel-time,” as Kamila likes to put it.

Kamila… is someone else that I have a bit of trouble communicating with. Don’t get me wrong, I do my best to be as friendly as possible to her. She has a sweet and infectious smile and a clear interest in contraptions and systems, which is exciting to see.

And yet, whenever I speak to her, I feel the same pang of guilt that I do whenever Inspector Cabanela – or Detective Jowd, or Alma, or anyone – does something kind for me. You ruined her life. You don’t deserve to do so much as look at her.

It’s difficult. It really is. A small part of me wishes I had never retained those memories from that previous timeline of events.

But then I see Sissel in my lap, with Kamila waving a feather toy for him to play with. Then Lynne and Missile are there too, energetic as always. Detective Jowd gives me a warm smile, despite it all. I eat dinner with everyone.

…

Say, is it bad to suggest that the silver lining to all of this is that…

You can know for sure, in your heart, that even people who know how badly you’ve messed up can forgive you and still want to be around you? 

For people to have lived through your sins, and still accept you?

It doesn’t change what I did. Nothing ever will. But on a peaceful night like that… I’ll forget for a moment that I was ever stuck in that hell at all.

It makes me feel like I was right before. Before all those memories came flooding back. Maybe, despite it all, I really can find it in myself to move forward.

I ate better today.

3.23.20XX

I want to throttle the old Yomiel just a little bit.

I surely remember the day that the Inspector told me we should get drinks after I was released. It was less than a year ago, after all. I even have the paper records to prove that it happened.

So if even I didn’t forget, why did I think that the Inspector would?

He asked me about it today. Considering all the time that’s passed, we ought to have at least picked a date for this to happen.

For me, I don’t care when, I don’t care where, but I need at least three weeks’ notice to settle my nerves and prepare my thoughts on how this could possibly go. If I’m lucky, I’ll even be able to keep down whatever I do drink, and that’s less due to the alcohol and more due to the simple nature of this interaction.

I suppose the reason I’m so nervous about this is because I’m always at least a little nervous around Inspector Cabanela. See earlier entries as for reasons why.

But I’m also afraid of accidentally revealing something I shouldn’t. I already consider myself to be relatively tight-lipped around this man, but if I lose my inhibitions for even just a moment, who knows what I might say. Probably something embarrassing at best, and something downright I-shot-you-in-the-head horrifying at worst. Things that I’m sure most normal people wouldn’t have to worry about when tipsy.

All I can do is be sure to cut myself off early. I’ve become quite the fan of water over the past ten years.

But if that means I’ll have to deal with a drunk Cabanela while sober… Hm. I can’t really win here. Let’s just assume he’s a light drinker too.

I was hoping that getting this out on paper would restore my appetite, but it seems I’ve had no such luck. Didn’t eat that well today.

Extra note:

We decided on April 5th, a Friday. Only two weeks away, but I’ll take it.

4.06.20XX

Well.

I suppose it’s only fair to recount what happened. The Inspector is not a light drinker, I can tell you that.

Or, maybe he actually is. Regardless of how much alcohol he usually consumes, the unfortunate truth is that we… enabled each other quite a bit.

Maybe I should start from the beginning. Yesterday, I rather listlessly followed Inspector Cabanela to what he claims is his favorite bar, and the drinking… ensued? The whole thing started out a bit awkward. I’m blaming it partially on the fact that I haven’t been to a bar or had a drink in more than a decade. My old coworkers back as a systems engineer were never really the go-out-to-drink type, nor was I the type to go to bars alone. 

So we’re sitting there in a half-empty pub, nervously sipping our beers, unsure of what to actually talk about. It was a bit relieving; underneath the crushing uncertainty of the whole situation, no talking meant there would be no opportunity to embarrass myself.

Then, of course, the Inspector starts talking. That was a nice five minutes, I thought.

“Say, Red… What do you think you’ll do with yourself now?”

… What a wonderful question to ask an ex-con during a peaceful outing.

I told him the truth. “I’m… really not sure.”

“You’re not gonna become one of those staaarving artists?”

Eye twitch. I still answer honestly. “If I really did try to sell those paintings, I’d be starving all right. They’re not worth the canvases they’re painted on.”

“Hey now, I can only listen to you berate your work so much, baby! Are you trying to claaaaim that I’ve just decorated our apartment with garbage?” 

Our apartment. “No, I… still, I don’t want to make it into my career or anything.”

“Then whatcha planning on doing, baby? Applying to the local convenience store?”

I drink faster. “I don’t know, okay? My options are pretty limited considering my situation. What about you, huh? Are you planning to stay with the Special Investigations Unit for the rest of your life?” It was half a comeback and half an honest question.

“Hahahah! I’ll be there till they have to put me on a ventilator, baby! I’m not goin’ aaanywhere!”

I’d finished my beer, so I ordered another one.

“That’s what you’re lookin’ for, right? Someplace where you can dedicate yourself to your work?”

Unfortunately, he was right. I do want that. More than that, I wanted to feel useful and good at something again. Maybe I had gotten too comfortable in my seat as one of the best in the systems engineering field. 

“Didja ever think about joining the Special Investigations Unit?”

I nearly choked. “Sorry, what? ”

The Inspector pounds my back again. “Hahahah! I’m just sayin’, you’re a smart one! You’re already a step above soooome of these detectives I have lying around!” He’s also on his second beer now.

“Now wait a second, that’s a joke, right? You’re the people who threw me in jail!” There’s a bite in my voice I wasn’t expecting, but I’m starting not to care.

He laughs again. “Sometimes that’s just how it happens, baby! How about becoming a detective, then?”

“I think the last thing I need right now is to become a cop, sorry.”

“Then will you go back to being an engineer?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Do you think they’ll hire some guy who supposedly leaked national secrets, held a kid hostage, and hasn’t touched a computer after being in prison for ten years?”

He stayed silent at that. I felt a little bit bad. I knew something like this would happen.

But then, he said something I wasn’t expecting.

“Alllll right then, forget the job talk. What do YOU want to do? How do you want the rest of your life to play out?”

It sounds a bit harsh on paper, but it was a genuine question. And I didn’t know how to answer. Or rather, if I could answer. My artificial dream that I abandoned… is that still what I want? I always wondered if I would truly be happy with something so make-believe. 

I ordered a third beer and turned the question around. “What do YOU want? Outside of work, I mean. Surely the SIU can’t be your life forever.”

Again, he was silent for a moment. He was also on his third beer. I was honestly surprised he hadn’t gotten rowdier.

He answered with a chuckle and a big smile. “As long as I keep myself surrounded by the people I care about, I’ll be good forever, baby!”

I chuckled too. A fitting answer. 

“Noooowww, baby, stop dodging my questions! What is it you want out of life, huh?” He was shaking me by my shoulder now. There’s the rowdiness. 

I was more than buzzed at this point. Tipsy, dare I say. 

I blame this fact for what came out of my mouth next. “A family.”

I don’t really know what response I was expecting, but roaring laughter wasn’t on my list. Immediately, I felt all the blood rush to my face. “ Hey! What exactly about that is so funny to you, huh?!” I shouldn’t have said anything.

The Inspector calmed himself down and rested his forehead against his wrist holding his drink. “Ahahah! Sorry, baby, it’s just that it’s a real good dream! We want the same thiiiiing, don’t we?” He wiped a tear from his eye.

“Haven’t I told you a million times before NOT to call me ‘baby’? Seriously!” It was weird, but I think I might have been laughing too by that point. It was too contagious. 

“Ya better get used to it, baby! You’re gonna have to work reeeeeeeaal hard to change my vocabulary, man!”

“You barely ever call me Yomiel, you know that? I have a name!”

“Hah, you’re one to talk! Would it kill ya to drop the ‘Inspector’ every once in a while? It’s Cabanela, baby! CA-BA-NE-LA!” 

“Is Cabanela even your first or last name? No one ever told me!”

“Isn’t it ooobvious, baby?!” 

“It really isn’t!! I do NOT know!!” Unfortunately the truth. I do not know, even after all this time.

We were both howling with laughter by that point. It all just seemed too funny – roommates that argue over paintings. Roommates that have the same dream. Roommates that don’t even call each other by their proper names. 

I don’t clearly remember what happened after that. We definitely had a few more beers, and we definitely made it back to the apartment in one piece. I woke up splayed over my bed, still fully clothed. My necktie was noticeably flung across the room. I assume the Inspector was left in a similar state.

And now, it’s the next day. Hungover, of course, but it could be worse. 

I think… that were this to happen again, I would still be nervous like before. But, at least now I know there’s not a 100% guarantee for things to end badly. It was fun.

I haven’t eaten yet today. I should probably do that.

[A/N: The next entry contains more graphic descriptions of implied self harm, suicide attempts and suicidal ideation. Read at your own discretion.]

5.21.20XX

I think that I’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that I’m in a normal human body again after so long. 

It’s a very interesting problem to have with zero context. I’m afraid there probably aren’t many support groups out there for people who are recovering from being the host of an indestructible corpse for ten years. 

It has been a bit of a struggle here and there, from having to re-learn basic hygiene to remembering that yes, sometimes it does hurt when your body parts bump into things, especially if it’s your foot and the corner of a wall. I have assimilated back into the human race by embracing the pain of stubbed toes. 

Pain is… still painful. That hasn’t changed. And it’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but there’s been a small hint of satisfaction that comes with every scrape or sting.

I know how that sounds! I’m not going to peg myself as some masochist just because I’ve been devoid of physical sensations altogether. I’m sure as more time passes, I’ll return back to completely resenting pain like every other normal person. 

Maybe today’s events were what got me thinking about this. I’ve gotten into preparing meals lately – that is, actually using multiple ingredients to make some kind of food. Cooking, you could even call it… or maybe that’s too confident of a word. Yeah, preparing food really sounds more accurate.

I was cutting some vegetables when I accidentally sliced my finger a bit. I’m still working on becoming more careful, with a body that doesn’t rapidly heal itself and all. It stung pretty bad – not a good pain. No satisfaction there.

But, instead of doing anything about it, I just watched. Blood started to ooze out and eventually drip down to the base of my finger. I’m not really sure if I was frozen, or… entranced. It felt like it had been so long since I’d seen my own blood outside my body. Something I would have given anything to see back then.

…

It’s not like I didn’t try, those ten years ago. When your life has been effectively ruined and you’re legally dead to the entire world, it’s not incredulous to think that you might struggle to find the will to go on. I don’t mean to get very heavy, but you understand, right? The only way to make things worse after taking away everything a man loves in his life is to make him unable to die. It’s as if you’re restrained from moving while everything falls apart around you; the mental anguish was just… too much.

To see so much as my own body wounded would have been a treat at the time. I couldn’t ever grasp that luxury, no matter what I tried. My methods over time turned a bit… extreme, as well. After all, it’s not as though the slice of a knife or a few pills would do anything for me. I had to think bigger – surely something out there could put me out of my misery. 

I just needed my body destroyed. Even though I knew deep down that my spirit would live on, I didn’t care. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I can find some way to tear myself limb from limb so gruesomely that my soul would be torn apart with it. My brain, my spine, my heart – something to kill me once and for all. 

Or… even something to just stop the pain for a single moment. The split-second it takes my brain to reform after putting a bullet through it. Maybe even some tranquil quiet before my mangled skeleton puts itself back together. 

Nothing ever worked, obviously. It all seems foolish to me now, everything I tried back then. I know now that the Temsik fragment was all that needed to be removed, but I had no idea at the time. I never felt a thing, nor did I ever even see a single drop of blood out of me all. No proof of life – it was like my own body was a specter along with my spirit; I was beginning to accept that my body was just a shell after all.

… I remember the day I stopped trying, too. It was still early on, while I was in silent hysterics, unable to cope with my situation. When I wasn’t trying to come up with new ways to off myself, I was huddled in some secluded spot while raking my fingers across my skin as deep as they would go. (Another habit I’ve had to work hard at dropping.) I was finally beginning to come down from that desperation. Slowly giving up.

“Maybe I can just sit here forever and listen to the waves,” I thought at the time, “and my mind can melt away.” I was by the ocean, tucked into some rocky corner close to the beach. 

But do you know who found me anyway? Not just this time, but every other time as well. I’m sure you can guess.

I don’t really know why he chose to follow me , over and over. Maybe our souls were connected somehow, since I spent time in his body. Or, maybe cats are just like that. 

He bounded toward me, stumbling a bit through the sand, eyes big and bright and yellow as ever. Then he rubbed his head on my pant leg, as if he cared. Then he snuggled tight into my side, shivering.

I wish I could be warm for you. We were both cold. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew I was as cold as a corpse.

He was scrawnier than ever, too. A kitten his size needs nutrients if he’s ever going to grow. I wish I had food to share with you.  

I didn’t need warmth or food. I didn’t need anything, as far as I was aware. 

Sissel needed them. He was going to die without them. 

Nobody ever looked our way, a ghost and a black cat. I couldn’t count on anyone to take care of him. There’d be a chance, but no guarantee. If I were gone, he’s as good as dead, too.

I took him in my arms, freeing myself from my skin-raking. I can’t be warm, and I don’t have food, but maybe I can still scratch behind your ear. He purred like he needed it, and I smiled like I needed it too.

I didn’t try anything else after that. A seed of purpose was planted in me that day; a seed that gave me a reason to live. It sprouted as taking care of a pet, and then blossomed into a desire for revenge. We all know how that ended up, though.

I… honestly think it’s good to think about this. I’m far from perfect right now; I’m still struggling, more than just what I’ve been writing down. Every day I question if I should be dead. 

But, the difference is that it’s just a question. Before, death felt like it was the answer, that there was only one feasible path waiting for me. And now, …I suppose it’s better to have two options instead of one, right? Now I have a choice, at the very least.

Sometimes that’s all you need, right? Maybe one of the options isn’t very good. Or neither are good, depending on who you ask. Now, though, I have the breathing room I needed back then. I can choose my path based on my own terms.

And, the truth is… I know in my heart that somewhere, there’s a path for me to pursue where I can lead a good, happy life. I just have to seize that opportunity with my own two hands, which may be easier said than done.

But just like before, Sissel is here. Among others. At the very least, I think I can lean on them.

 I ate yesterday’s leftovers. They were all right, but I think I can do better next time. Maybe without needing the first aid kit, if I’m lucky.

06.19.20XX

It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote, but ever since the day I… injured myself in the kitchen, the Inspector has been awfully… what’s the word I’m looking for…

Annoying. 

I had to practically peel him off of me back when it first happened, repeatedly insisting that yes, I CAN bandage myself, it’s the world’s tiniest cut, please calm down…

Now, he’s been clinging to me more than ever. I was right before – the Inspector is lonely. That much is clearly obvious now, which is why I’m starting to feel more and more bad about declining his offers to do things or go somewhere with him. I’m wondering if he thinks that I disliked our bar outing or something, even though I didn’t.

It’s just. Strange. Being around him in general. I really don’t know what it is, either. Everyone else, I feel like I’ve made plenty of progress with. I really don’t mean to brag, but according to Detective Jowd, there have been times where Kamila has begged to have me over, whether it be to play with Sissel, or work on contraptions, or whatever else she happens to have planned for me that day. We’ve really seemed to hit it off over the past few months, which makes me happy.

With Inspector Cabanela, though, it’s harder. I do honestly wish I could get to a spot with him where I’m finally… comfortable. What needs to happen in order for me to accomplish that, I’m not sure.

Speaking of these two, something did happen today that was… a bit embarrassing, to put it lightly.

Like I said before, I’ve been spending more time with Kamila lately. She’s a very bright young girl, like her father. She has this amazing knack for these elaborate Rube-Goldberg machines; unnecessarily elaborate chain reactions of household items just to make something small and fun happen at the end.

I’ve known about these contraptions for a while. There is not a positive connotation to this statement.

But unlike before, I’ve been able to really see up close how they work and what kind of thought process Kamila follows as she makes something like this. It’s incredibly fascinating.

Sissel likes to watch her at work too. I’ve even caught a couple glances of Sissel helping a bit, without Kamila ever noticing, of course. There’s something very funny about this girl being oblivious to her own cat’s magic powers, and how said cat silently uses them to nudge some things in the right direction. They make a strangely good combo.

I’ve been allowed to help too, when it calls for it. Most of the time it’s just holding an object or two in place as she adjusts something on the other side of the room, and sometimes it’s helping untie knots that she tied in the wrong place, and similar things…

Occasionally, she does ask for my help on the actual machine whenever she hits a roadblock. I have to remind her every time that the “systems” I’m so used to working with are all digital, and some computer coding can’t really do much for a mechanical structure like this. I was never really a hands-on type of guy, unfortunately.

And yet, I still take a moment to study the part that’s gone wrong, and provide suggestions if I can. “Maybe adjust the direction of this domino path right here,” or “perhaps a ball with more mass that’s still hollow could get the job done,” and things along that line. Sometimes they even work, which leaves her overjoyed, of course.

Just today, I was over there helping with her latest creation as her designated unpaid low-commitment babysitter for the day. (She can take care of herself, so she really doesn’t need a babysitter, but it makes more sense for the strange man that stays with her at her house in the middle of a weekday to be labeled as such.) 

There was one part of her contraption that kept falling through, however. A ball that rides one of her slopes downwards was meant to bounce off of something and change direction, but her current wall in question couldn’t quite provide the angle she was hoping for, and whatever she did use needed to be small enough to fit into the mechanism without much issue.

We were both going through possible replacements from around the house (family-member-sanctioned snooping, just for a bit of fun) but couldn’t land on anything just right. Most books were too big, and the ones that were small enough didn’t have enough weight to keep them standing up. I was suggesting to Kamila that instead, we could switch gears and find something small and firm that can be supported to stay in place some other way. 

In hindsight, I should have noticed her glancing at me a few times before doing what she did next. She adjusted her machine for a moment, and then came over to me, who was sitting down nearby, and-

“I’ll just borrow these for one second!”

I was unexpectedly blinded.

There is a small amount of mental preparation that goes into me taking off my sunglasses at any given moment. Not only is everything much brighter, obviously, but I’m suddenly ripped away from the only thing that allows me to see. My prescription isn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things, but I still need it!

I tried to watch what she was doing with them, but I was frankly disoriented. “Err, Kamila, can I have those back? I really can’t see much–”

“Sorry, just one more second! I’ll give them right back!”
“Really, I won’t be able to see how the slope works out if you use my glasses in there…”

“I’m almost done–”

And then, I heard the door swing open vigorously. I didn’t need my sunglasses in order to tell who was there.

“Heeeeeey, baby!”
Ah, jeez. 5PM already?

It was a moment before the situation set in for him, and even though my vision was failing me, I was sure that we locked eyes. For just a little longer than was probably necessary, too. I honestly wish I could have seen his expression.

We were interrupted by Kamila placing the glasses back on my head, adjusting them to the best of her ability.

“Sorry, Uncle Yomi, I just wanted to try them really quick. They’re not the right shape, so I’ll look for something else…” she shot a pleading look at Inspector Cabanela, knowing it was nearly time for us to go.

“Doooon’t you worry, baby! I’ll take you sunglasses shopping this week, all right? We can find a more stylish replacement for Uncle Yomi here.”

Something shifted in my chest at Cabanela saying that. I don’t know what the hell that was, but it was SOMETHING.

After Detective Jowd and Alma returned home, we took our leave. Kamila made me promise that I’ll be there for when she finally completes her work, and I told her it would be on my schedule.

The drive back was quiet. Not in quite a bad way, though. 

When we got back, I went to the bathroom and took off my glasses again. I felt like I needed to see exactly what it was the Inspector saw when he looked at me. All I could really think was “gee, I’m getting old, huh…”

Not so bad, maybe.

Err, I guess I’m going sunglasses shopping this week. Despite those two’s efforts, I have no plans to change my look. 

It might still be fun, though.

I did eat well today. I can still strive for more, I think.

Here is a Ghost Swap prompt I did that kind of relates to chapter content!

The Ghost Swap prompt list is here.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

07.09.20XX

It’s been starting to get quite hot again recently. June wasn’t so bad this year; if you’ll believe me, we actually got quite a bit of rain. I specifically remember getting poured on as Kamila, Inspector Cabanela and I ducked for cover after our little sunglass excursion. 

I had given Kamila my suit jacket to hold over her head, which then prompted the Inspector to throw his white coat over my head, and I started to protest until I saw him whip out his trusty yellow umbrella. Right, how could I forget. I suppose you really don’t know whenever it’s going to start pouring. 

Now that leaves us barely a week into July, with everything around us so hot and dry that the surprise rainy season seems like a distant memory. Since going outside is really just miserable now, I’ve gotten back into painting again.

It’s not as though I ever dropped it, but I’ve certainly been doing it far less than I had before. Or, maybe that’s an unfair comparison, considering I did nothing BUT paint during my time in jail. I miss it, but only vaguely; I like to think that where I am now is just an overall better painting environment. I can truly do it for enjoyment, and not just to pass the time. 

I found myself painting a beach again the other day. Clearly, this is some kind of unconscious pattern at this point. In the back of my head, I tell myself that if I render the waves realistically enough, they might wash over my face and cool me down. 

While I say I’d like to go to a beach, I… there’s still some fear there. I’ve never been hugely fond of the ocean to begin with; some of the creatures that scientists have discovered to be living thousands of meters underneath the surface do not look like they should be of this world. Whatever swims around down there in the dark needs to stay down there.

On the other hand, though, the overall setting of a beach feels very soothing. Maybe it dates back to my days as a wandering corpse, but the gentle rhythm of the waves is extremely pleasant to listen to. Also, I would like to try feeling sand again – I always did like it more than the water. 

But even more than that, I think that maybe just going by the ocean with the intent to make a day out of it would feel different. Watching the weather forecast, packing a beach bag, looking forward to the time that you’ll spend there… all of the things that I never quite got to do before. 

I was unsure about how to possibly make these plans a reality, though. I have no real mode of transportation, not to mention a swimsuit or beach supplies. Hmm… maybe this wouldn’t be the best if I were to do it on my own.

So, for once, Inspector Cabanela’s enthusiasm about seemingly everything has paid off. When he spotted my finished painting, he did his usual thing (snatching it away and finding a spot on the living room walls for it) while laughing and saying,

“We should all have a beach day together sometime! Nooo better way to beat this heat than that!”

Haha! The Inspector has fallen for my subliminal messaging. Now I wonder if painting a picture of duct tape over his mouth would convince him to be quieter.

Well, in one way or another, I suppose some progress has been made. As long as the Inspector does not insist on buying a swimsuit for me or something, this could go well.

I ate just fine today.

08.04.20XX

Just when I think it couldn’t get any hotter, it does. Usually, I’m able to push through in my suit even on the warmer days, but lately, I haven’t even been able to think about putting on my blazer.

In other news, I’ve finally picked up some work. It’s more of a part-time thing, so the pay wouldn’t be nearly enough to support myself, but it’s nice to be earning money again. A start-up company needed some website coding and copy writing done, and after I had finished their work, they referred me to another group that needed similar tasks done. 

All from home, essentially freelance, and low commitment with unstable pay. But, it’s something. I get to put the cheap, old-gen laptop I invested in some time ago to use as well. The hope is that after enough jobs like this, I could scrape together enough of a background to land an actual position somewhere.

It wasn’t necessarily my plan to get back into the engineering and computer science field, especially after really not doing anything of the sort for the longest time. But, it keeps my mind off things, and I don’t actually have to go anywhere to work either, so it’s not too bad.

So, with all that, I’ve been mostly able to stay indoors whenever possible, but it’s STILL so hot. All of our summer rain days apparently clumped themselves together back in June, leaving nothing for the other two months.

It also seems as though Inspector Cabanela has been taking more time off than usual. Whether it’s because of the heat or something else, he won’t say.

…Well, actually, I think it’s the former, but he just doesn’t want to admit it. When I asked him about it, he danced around my question for a bit before saying,

“Nah, baby, they told me I was workin’ too hard and sent me home! I guess I dooo have vacation days to use…”

Along with other answers such as “there are no cases to work on right now” and “heeey, what’s one little afternoon rest?” All said while stripped down to the bare minimum of whatever’s socially acceptable and splayed out over the living room couch.

It was honestly kind of funny. This man, who’s always seemed to be such a workaholic, has a secret weakness to the August heat, it appears… his energy’s been completely zapped! I never thought I’d see the day.

Well, I suppose that could make two of us. I’ve been eating well, but between work and the heat, I’m afraid that painting has been put on the backburner once again… ah well, it will find its time to shine again at some point.

08.16.20XX

Welp. I’ve officially broken my precedent of writing only one entry per month. Writing takes a long time, you know… it’s not as though it’s become a chore or anything, but I’m only able to organize my thoughts into a coherent set of paragraphs every so often.

But. I feel like I have no choice here. I HAVE to write about this. My brain is bursting at the seams.

Yesterday, seemingly out of nowhere, Inspector Cabanela hurried me into his car and told me we’re going to the beach. He was VERY lucky that I had just happened to order some swim clothes the week before, after springing this trip on me. 

I was thrown off my guard, but pleased. Especially after he told me that Detective Jowd’s family and Lynne would meet us there. It was a strange feeling, realizing everyone was going to be there. It felt as though the time we had spent was all culminating to this moment, bringing to life the scene that I had haphazardly daydreamed about not too long ago.

I didn’t want anything particularly special. I much preferred to think of it as me tagging along with the Inspector, maybe being invited because Kamila asked, or because Sissel asked, who knows. I’m fine being in the background, out of the spotlight; it feels comforting, like I can watch the others’ lives unfold without them having to think too hard about me, or the fact that I’m there. And if Sissel is by my side, watching with me, then I feel like I could stay that way forever.

So imagine how I felt after I got out of the car, made my way to the seaside where Lynne was helping Detective Jowd set up a couple umbrellas and Kamila was already digging in the sand, and saw them all turn to look at me and say:

“Happy birthday, Yomiel!”

…Oh, yeah.

Now, listen. I think it goes without saying, but I haven’t celebrated my birthday in at least ten years. I’m sure nothing much happened at all while I was in prison, and I can guarantee you no celebrations were held during my time as a Temsik-imbued ghost-tricking shell of a person. In fact – and it’s a bit embarrassing to admit – but because my birthday is truly unlike any other day to me, I can never quite remember if it’s on the 14th or 15th of August. The actual date of my birth has been lost to me in the past decade-or-more. 

Well, apparently it was on the 15th after all. It was funny; I really should have predicted this. The signs were right there, and they all flew over my head. The Inspector has a small calendar in the kitchen, where he’s been marking his days off. I LOOKED at the mark on August 15th with my own two eyes and didn’t think anything of it. (Maybe I was under the impression that my birthday was the 14th on that day in particular.)

I may or may not have froze when they said this to me. Not only did I not remember what day it was today, but THAT was the reason everyone had gathered out here? At the beach, no less? I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said to them.

Luckily, I didn’t have to dwell on it for very long, because Kamila was already dragging me over to her half-built sand castle and asking for my help. Now we’re talking, I thought.

It wasn’t a bad outing at all, don’t get me wrong. The beach was as relaxing as I had hoped, even though Lynne tried a few too many times to drag me into the water. She kept saying she needed me for a fair chicken fight, even though I told her multiple times that I’m not strong enough to hold anyone up, nor am I strong enough to last more than a few seconds while on top. 

The Inspector then tried to convince me it would be fine because I’d be sitting on his shoulders. That actually made me MORE vehemently against participating. His jovial laughing felt purposeful – I swear he knows that it has an affect on me. I can’t lose to him…!

It was all just…. very…. surprising. I was afraid at first that this beach day was going to be far too active, too… celebration-y. But, aside from their initial ‘happy birthday,’ nothing really seemed too overbearing in the end. It was nice.

Sissel was brought along, and Kamila was always making sure that he was staying in the shade. I didn’t necessarily realize why this was important (Sissel can’t feel the heat after all, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about) until I reached to pet him after he HAD been under the sun. His fur was burning! That black coat does absorb more light, I suppose… he was like a cat-shaped hotplate. When I yelped in surprise at the heat, Kamila scrambled to get him back under the umbrella, simultaneously apologizing and giggling. 

Missile, on the other hand, was soaked by the end of the day. Do pomeranians usually like water? This one definitely does. He must’ve ran back and forth along the shore for hours. I pretended not to see the big sign that said ‘NO ANIMALS’ at the beach’s entrance; it was fairly empty today (somehow) so we were able to get away with it in the end. 

We had watermelon. Lynne let me be the referee for the chicken fight after all. It turns out Alma can put up a pretty good defense; I laughed pretty hard when she managed to knock Inspector Cabanela down. Kamila asked me how old I was turning; I nervously told her I didn’t really have an answer for that. Sissel stuck one paw in the water and said that was enough for him. Missile ran by at that moment and splashed all over Sissel; I laughed at that too. I watched Kamila make Detective Jowd promise that Amelie could come along next time. 

Then, we went home once the sun started to set. I felt exhausted, completely drained by the sun.

We got back to the apartment, and then it was just the two of us again. It was dark inside, before we turned the lights on, except for the sunset showing through the windows like a mural. For some reason, that image sticks in my head.

“That beach was pretty nice, huh, baby?” The Inspector flipped the lightswitch.

“...Yeah, it really was. I…”

It all dawned on me at that moment.

“ You… set this all up, didn’t you? The beach, and… everything.”

He smiled at me. “Ahaha! Guilty as charged! Your birthday was in your file. Figured it was the least I could do.”

Least you could do?

You didn’t have to do anything.

In fact, I…

“You… really didn’t–”

“Hey! No talking like that! Eeeveryone deserves a birthday party, all right?”

… Believe me. I don’t.

But, for just a second… I let myself believe him. For just a second.

And then, before I realized it, he was holding a bag stuffed with tissue paper in front of me. I stared at it like it was some foreign object.

“C’mooon, baby! You don’t actually think I’d throw you a party without gettin’ you something!”

You already buy things for me, all the time. 

Clearly he wanted me to open it in front of him, so I took the bag in my hands and began to rustle through the paper. I wanted to think that it would be something stupid, something that screams “we’re all just joking around here!” But I knew better by now. It was wishful thinking.

I pulled a set of oil paints out of the bag. A nice one. The three primaries, black, and white; enough to make any color in the world. 

“You better make lots of lovely paintings with those. Nooo stopping till our walls are completely covered, baby!”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I forced my gaze to stay down on the paints. “You do know that oil paint takes way longer to dry, right? No more grabbing my canvas with your bare hands the second I’m done with it.”

“Hahah! I… didn’t, but we’ll work with it!” 

I was struggling to hold it together. I hope it wasn’t showing.

Or, it might have been, because the next thing he asked me could have easily toppled it all over:

“Didja have a good day with us, Yomiel?”

[There’s residue of erased words on the next few lines. They’re illegible. The paper is slightly crinkled.]

I think I barely squeaked out an “I did” before I rushed to my room and closed the door, paints still in hand. 

Then, I just fell apart. Really, really fell apart. 

It wasn't in a good way, either.

I’m such a HUGE idiot.

Why… did I ever think I could let myself get close to everyone like this? Close to CABANELA, of all people?? I feel like I’m playing a character. 

It’s too much. My heart aches. It feels so heavy in my chest. 

I was wrong. About everything. I was foolish to think that I could just move on from what I did. It doesn’t matter if no one else seems to care. It doesn't matter if everyone else has 'forgiven' me.

I’m deceiving him. I always have been, since day one. It can’t go on. Not like this.

I’ll have to tell him everything at some point. It’s all too painful.

I know I have to, and yet I can't even remotely imagine how it would go. I was so against it before, but now it feels like I have no choice. I screwed up. I've let myself become too happy, get too comfortable... There should be no place like that for me, next to everyone. Next to him. 

I’ll tell him, and then it will all be over. Then, I won’t have to worry about anything anymore. He won’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of his life, and he won’t miss me. Not after knowing what I did. He can continue on like I was never there.

I ate more than I should have today.

Chapter Text

9.29.20XX

I think I like the 20’s when it comes to dates to write on. Maybe I will do more of that.

It’s been a little while. I’m hoping to just… take things slow for a bit. One day at a time. That way, I can start to form my thoughts about, well, what exactly I should do.

I’ve been visiting Sissel quite a bit more recently. I think talking with him (or just petting him while he rolls around on the floor) helps me think more clearly. 

It’s actually quite interesting. This friend of mine, that I’ve had for over ten years now… I never imagined I’d actually get to talk to him one day. Isn’t that every pet owner’s dream, to be able to know what’s going on inside their pet’s head? I know that I sure wondered about it back then. 

I ended up asking his thoughts about my… situation. I mean, he knows pretty clearly what all happened. It was either gonna be him or Missile, I suppose. I talked to him for a little while about it, and for the first time, I verbally told someone how I felt. I knew that if anyone was going to understand me, it would be Sissel.

“I really was happy and having fun,” I remember telling him. “But that’s why I feel so guilty, I think. I still feel like I’m masquerading as an innocent person around all the people I hurt.”

“But Detective Jowd has forgiven you, right? We’ve all come to understand you much better.”

“That’s just the thing! You guys might have come to terms with it all, but how are any of the others supposed to? Kamila, she… she deserves to know, but in the end, it will only just bring her more pain, right?” I wasn’t strong enough to use Inspector Cabanela as an example just yet.

And, I didn’t really want to say it, but there are no secrets in the Ghost World, after all. “How can I really know Detective Jowd’s heart, anyway…? Has he really forgiven me, or was he just…”

It was here that Sissel finally smacked some sense into me. Metaphorically. And politely, of course.

“Well, he leaves you alone to watch his daughter. Doesn’t that show for anything?”

“Couldn’t that just be because Kamila likes seeing me?”

He flicked his tail a bit. “Don’t you think that Detective Jowd wouldn’t let you see her if he believed you were a bad man?”

“Yes, I guess, but…” My head was just searching for excuses to justify my paranoia by that point.

“Do you remember last year, where the day you got out of prison, Detective Jowd had Inspector Cabanela bring you into his home for Christmas dinner?”

…Yeah, not much I can say against that. “Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t be distrustful of him, not after how good he’s been to me.” I shoved my head into my hand. “I’m sorry, I just… I feel like I’m going crazy! HOW am I even supposed to tell anyone what happened? No one’s gonna believe a word I say. Not when my whole story sounds like a bad dream compared to what we have now.”

Sissel thought for a moment, twitching his whiskers (which is what he does when he’s thinking). “It’s true… they might not believe you, but they’d believe him, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying? Should it be Detective Jowd that explains it all?”

“Not just by himself. Maybe the two of you could do it together. Or maybe he could at least be there to confirm your story.”

I’ll admit, it’s an interesting idea. I’d sound like a madman if I start spouting nonsense about magic ghost powers and alternate timelines, but if the respectable Detective Jowd is there to verify everything I say, then they’ll all have no choice but to believe me, right? (I feel like if we both tried to explain at the same time, Alma might get concerned that we consumed some kind of hallucinogenic substance together or something.)

It was good getting Sissel’s advice and all, but that’s not all that happened. After we talked, he left the room for a little bit and came back with Detective Jowd. I was afraid Sissel had already told him about our little plan, but instead, he said:

“Would you like to take Sissel back with you for a few days?”

It definitely threw me off guard. “Huh? I.. I mean, I’d love to, but what about Kamila?” I know how important Sissel is to her.

“Actually, she’s going on a school trip for the week. Alma and I will be out working all day, so I’m sure Sissel would be bored here all by himself.” Detective Jowd paused for a moment and then winked at me. “Even if Kamila was here, I think she would be more than happy to leave him in your capable hands.”

“My capable hands, huh?” I chuckled. We both knew that Sissel, as he is now, is not a very high maintenance cat. Plus, I had caught on to what this was about by then; Sissel was worried about me. Maybe for good reason. 

And, I don’t have to think too hard about how having him around might help me. Honestly, just his being there would be enough to calm me down. He has that quality to him. 

When Inspector Cabanela came by, Detective Jowd pulled him aside and said something quietly to him. I assume it was about me taking Sissel back to the apartment, because he said in his usual loud voice, “Nothing like it, baby! Sooounds good to me!”

Then, on the way out, the Inspector ducked down by me as I was carrying Sissel in my hands, and whispered low and quickly to me:

“Our apartment complex has a no-pet policy. We’re gonna have to hide that little guy as best we can, alright?”

I laughed a bit to myself, whether it be because of this man’s unexpected urgency or the fact that our complex had a no-pet policy at all. I swear to you, I’ve seen plenty of sheltered apartment dogs popping up through the windows, trying to get a glimpse of the outside world. 

Well, now I’m able to say that I’m writing this with a cat curled up next to me, so things are already better than before. I really think that just having Sissel by my side for a few days will help me think clearer. 

I ate a bit better.

10.30.20XX

Halloween is nearly here again. Inspector Cabanela is all set up and ready for it, too.

Well, actually, he’s been set up and ready the moment the clock struck midnight on October 1st. I now fully understand why, after all these years, the prison I was in celebrated Halloween every year. I can almost guarantee you that this man was behind it all; I wouldn’t even be surprised if he made it so that each guard’s job was on the line if they refused to participate in the festivities.

The prison was definitely a diluted version of what the Inspector was capable of, though, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much orange, black and purple in my whole life. I didn’t even know we had that many decorations.

However, I’ll admit it IS kind of getting me into the Halloween spirit. At the very least, the rampant black cat imagery is nice to see. Maybe I’ll even consider picking out some kind of accessory for tomorrow (because I fear that my roommate status may be on the line if I don’t).

I… haven’t exactly mentioned it, but I’ve been trying to distance myself more from the Inspector -- again. Until I’m able to explain what I did to him, it just doesn’t feel right for me to get too close.

And, strangely, he’s been obliging. He’s been giving me the space I wish he’d given me back when I first moved in. No more dragging me out of the apartment, no more pestering me about my paintings; really kind of just… hands off. I’d be worried if he wasn’t still his usual chipper self all the time. 

Although, there has been this… quietness between us, since that day in August. I feel bad. I know he probably thinks that I hated the beach day or the gift from the way I acted. I DID like it, I really liked it, actually, but I wonder what the point of telling him that now would be. Everything I want to say to him would just be working against my goal of… preparing to let go.

Well, that’s how I felt this morning, at least. Something did happen today that changed how I felt a bit. 

I had been holding onto Sissel again the past couple of days, and today I returned him to Detective Jowd’s residence. This is the second time I’ve been able to have him at the apartment for a bit, and both times I’ve brought him back, Kamila runs directly at me, scoops Sissel up in her arms, and spins around while parading him through the air. (She should be lucky he’s not a normal cat. I don’t know how much he would appreciate that otherwise!)

Then we usually sit and play with him for a little bit before I leave. The house was also well decorated, though not nearly as hardcore as our apartment.

“Are you excited for Halloween this year? Planning to dress up?” I asked her while engaging in a thrilling game of moving-your-hand-under-a-blanket-for-the-cat-to-catch.

“Yes, but maybe not too much. A lot of the kids at school this year are saying we’re too old to go trick-or-treating…”

“What?! That’s nonsense. You’re never too old to go trick-or-treating, let alone pick out a costume. Even Inspector Cabanela and I will be wearing something.” (I suppose now I must find some kind of last-minute costume.)

“That’s what I said! They have no idea what they’re talking about.” Kamila put Sissel in her lap with a little hmph. “This year, I was going to be a Halloween witch with Sissel as my black cat, but… I don’t really want anyone to make fun of me.”

“Are you kidding? How many other kids can say their pet perfectly matches their outfit? If they do anything mean, it’s only because they’re jealous.” I gave Sissel a scratch behind his ear. “Jealous of your cat, and of all the candy you’ll be getting.”

Kamila giggled. “You’re right, you’re right! It’ll be fun.” Then, suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Actually, I’m not just excited for Halloween this year! In class we’ve been learning about el Día de los Muertos, and we’re all making ofrendas to put up on November 1st!”

“Ahh, the Day of the Dead, huh? Where families set out photos and treats for the spirits of their loved ones to come visit them and all.” Where the boundaries between the spirit world and the real world dissolve… well, we DO know that it’s not impossible for some ghosts to be hanging around.

“That’s right! We’re supposed to pick a friend or family member that’s passed away and make an altar for them with all their favorite foods and things. Then, all of those spirits will return to the living world and celebrate with us!” She was on her feet again, spinning Sissel around in the air. “Everything gets decorated with marigolds and sugar skulls! It looks like so much fun!”

I couldn’t help but smile, seeing her so enthused. “Spirits returning to the living world… you’re not afraid of ghosts, Kamila?”

“No way! El Día de los Muertos is a celebration of life, after all. We’re all meant to be happy that we’re reunited!” She stopped spinning and held Sissel in her arms. “Even if there were bad ghosts, Sissel would protect me from them!”

“Really? How so?”

“Well… maybe by swiping his claws at them! Or, because he’s a nice cat, he’ll make friends with the ghost and tell them to go away?”

The latter seems more likely to me, personally. “Who will you be making an ofrenda of?”

“My grandma! On my mom’s side. She passed away when I was still just a baby, so I didn’t really know her that much… Oh, but she looks a lot like Mom!” She ran over to a nearby shelf and grabbed a photo frame. “I wonder if I’ll look like her too when I grow up.”

The picture she showed me had an older woman standing with a much younger Alma. She really was the spitting image of her mother. “Surely you’ll grow up to be just as beautiful as them.” When I said that, Kamila twirled around again happily.

I started thinking, at that moment, how good and fortunate it was that she got to live like this. That the only deceased family member she had to worry about was a grandparent she never really knew. How she can still manage to look at death and choose to celebrate life. How a child should be able to grow up. 

When, before… everything would have been taken away from her. Not even just her mother, but her father, Lynne, Inspector Cabanela… even her pet. She would have all those ofrendas to set up by herself. What would even happen to her…?

I say all this, fully knowing that it was me who would’ve caused all of it. 

Geez. What have I been doing this whole time? I was so worried about what I was going to tell the Inspector that… I’ve barely considered what I should tell Kamila. I still think that trying to tell the truth would do more harm than good. She doesn’t need to know about the alternate timeline of events where her life is ruined several times over. It would leave a scar on her psyche that would never go away.

But, still… I’m deceiving her, along with the others. After we’ve become this close, I can’t let her think that I’m completely innocent. It would just be wrong.

So shouldn’t she know something? 

That’s why, when I got to the front door and she was about to see me out, I stopped, turned around, and knelt down in front of her.

“Say, Kamila… listen to me for a moment, all right?”

“Huh? Um… okay.”

“Listen… I’ve known your dad for a long time now, right? The truth is… we haven’t always been on such good terms.”

She tilted her head a bit. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath. “Well… back when I first met him, I was a very different person. I was going through a really hard time, and I did some things to… hurt your family.”

“Was it an accident?” Her expression was unreadable to me.

“That’s the sad part. It wasn’t an accident; it was on purpose. And it was a long time ago, long before you ever knew me. You wouldn’t have remembered any of it.” I paused. “Do you remember how your dad told you that before Sissel was your cat, he was actually mine? It was back then.”

She was silent for a moment. Eventually, she smiled sadly and looked at the ground. “I’m guessing… that I shouldn’t ask what happened, right? That you don’t want me to know.”

I smiled faintly, too. “You’re a smart girl. If you knew, I’m afraid it would make you sad. So, I’m really sorry, but… I can’t tell you. Just that… I did some bad things a long time ago.”

“Is that why you were in jail?”

It felt like a comically large boulder hit my head just then. “Err… yes. I, uh, didn’t realize your dad told you about that.”

“Oh. Well, he didn’t at first, but he told me that you spent a little bit of time in jail before you met me. There are lots of things you can go to jail for, like not paying taxes or other things like that. I just didn’t realize it was…”

“Yeah…”

“...”

I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I started to wonder if this was a mistake, until she asked:

“How long ago was it?”

“Err…” An unexpectedly complicated question. “Around ten years ago, I suppose.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“...”

“...”

“You said you’re a much different person now, right?”

“Yeah… I’m not that mean old bitter guy anymore. I would never, ever hurt any of you today.”

“And… you said Sissel was your cat back then?”

“That’s right.”

“But then… you gave him to us?”

“...! Well, yes, I suppose I did. I thought you all could take better care of him than I could.”

“So… you’re the reason we have Sissel at all, right?”

“I… well… yeah, I guess so…? Err, rather, it was more like your dad who-”

“Uncle Yomi, if you’re the reason we have Sissel, then… I forgive you for whatever it is you did!”

“What?” I was taken aback.

“Sissel is my best friend in the whole world. And I’m sure he was yours, too. He’s just that kind of cat. So if you gave him to us as an apology, then I forgive you!”

I didn’t know what to say. It happened just like that? “Uh, Kamila… really, what I did can’t be forgiven that easily…”

“But you said you’re different now, and you’d never do the same today. And…” She was fidgeting with her hands now. “Don’t… you want to be forgiven, Uncle Yomi? Isn’t that why you’re telling me this?”

“I…” I do. I do. She’s right. Isn’t that why I’m doing this?

Cautiously. “You really forgive me? Even though I can’t tell you what I did?”

She nodded her head vigorously. “Of course! Didn’t I already say? You’ve been so nice, and you’ve helped me with so much… so I believe you when you say you’d never do it again.” Then, she ran back into the living room, picked up Sissel (who was most likely eavesdropping, for all I know) and came back. “Now that we’re friends, both of us can take care of Sissel, okay?” 

My eyes stung a bit. “...Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

“Dad will let you know when you can take him home next, okay?”

“Right.” I stood up to leave, but paused again. “Kamila… I really am sorry. And… I’m so happy that you can forgive me.”

She put Sissel down and hugged me instead. Then she sent me off.

I feel so much lighter already. I really wasn’t expecting it to go like that, at all.

I’m… really happy. I think that now, no matter what might happen… I can feel a little more satisfied with myself. I told one person, and that might be enough to go on. To keep moving forward, like I wanted to so long ago.

I ate less today, but I still felt all right in the end.

11.28.20XX

Inspector Cabanela stayed home today. Honestly, he’s kind of bad at hiding whenever he’s feeling sick or tired.

He was initially still planning to go into work, but despite everything that’s happened and how I’ve been feeling, I stopped him at the door.

“You look terrible,” I said to him. It reminded me of a year ago, when he came to visit me while he was clearly exhausted.

“How haaarsh, baby… you know I always spend hours every day doing my–” he started before flying into a coughing fit. I instinctively backed up several feet away. 

“You’re not actually going into the office like that, are you? You’ll get other people sick, too.” 

Once I said that, his noble facade of pushing through his illness fell away and he conceded. As always, the moment other people’s safety comes into play, he steps down from the spotlight. 

I had been planning to do more of my own work today too (this aforementioned startup company said they might be able to offer me a full time position if I kept up the good work), but hearing the Inspector stifling his coughs in the other room kept stealing my attention. Last I had seen him, he had collapsed on the living room couch, unmoving. It was nearly lunchtime, too; there’s no way in hell that he’s gonna find the energy to make something himself. This website design isn’t due till next week, and finishing it will be quick. I was a bit hungry as well.

These were all the thoughts that were bouncing around in my head as I also conceded – in this case, it was resigning myself into being the caretaker for the day. 

Yeah, yeah. I know how this all sounds, BELIEVE me. I’m doing pretty awfully at this whole “distancing” thing, huh? I can’t stay away from this guy. It’s getting frustrating.

I just felt bad for him is all. When I asked myself if he’d do the same for me, there was barely a second’s delay till I realized that he absolutely would. It would be less than what he’s already done for me, after this whole time. When I thought about that… I couldn’t just sit around and be useless. 

So, that was my justification. My justification for covering the Inspector in the thick blanket that always lies unused on our couch. My justification for fixing both of us a couple bowls of soup. My justification for taking my work to the nearby armchair so that he wouldn’t be lonely. 

It was quiet. I think we were suddenly both hyper-aware of the space that had been growing between us. The space I had been fostering.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own bed?” I asked eventually. His legs were practically hanging off of the far side of the couch.

“Naaaah, man… the windows are bigger in here. The sunlight feels nice…”

It’s true. Not that the Inspector’s room is somewhere I frequent, but I’ve at least seen inside. He’s got old vinyl records on the walls and other room decorations reminiscent of a middle-aged disco-loving police officer (...I guess). 

I didn’t expect him to say what he followed up with, though. “If I were in my own room, would ya still sit nearby?”

My brows furrowed. I do remember enough about his room to know there’s no place to sit in there OTHER than his bed. “Probably… not.”

“Guess I’ll stay right here, then.”

I pretended to go back to work, but I hadn’t touched the webpage I was sitting on for several minutes now. My eyes kept lingering back to his face. He really didn’t look well. I’ve never been too good with faces or expressions (especially not since my time as an undead fugitive), but even I could tell he was hit hard. His eyes were dull in a way that I hadn’t really seen before. I didn’t understand why he didn’t just go to sleep; it’s not like there was much else for him to do to pass the time.

“Am I distractin’ you, baby?” 

Crap, I’d been caught. “What? No, I– err…” Why was it so hard to just admit I was worried? It wasn’t that long ago that I was planning this man’s death. How did things end up changing so fast? 

“You don’t hafta stay if you don’t want to. I know you’ve got some work keepin’ you busy.”

He’s right. He was all taken care of now, and I could retreat to my room to get a couple hours’ worth of work done. Despite this, I was glued to my seat. 

“Don’t you want me to stay?” I barely realized what I said before I said it.

At that, he turned his head to look at me. Even in his state, he was smiling at me. “I do.”

It was then that I unfortunately realized that sick Cabanela is a bit more pathetically blunt than normal Cabanela. I looked away; he just solved my problem of staring at him real fast.

“It’s just nice that you’re here,” he continued. “And that I’m not aaall alone. It means that I’ll recover faster, yaknow, baby?”

That was the first time I had ever actually heard him say anything like that. “Really? I’m sure that if you called Detective Jowd or Lynne or someone, they’d gladly take care of you.”

“That’s not the point, Red.” It had been a while since he called me that. I peeked back over in his direction to see that he was still facing me. “It’s not necessarily the fact that you’re sittin’ right there. It’s that you’re here, in this apartment, at all.”

“...What?”

“Well, man, it’s been a long time since I’ve lived with someone else. Jowd and I were roommates back in the day, until he got together with Alma.” He paused to cough a couple times. “What I’m trying to say, is… even with just one other person constantly around, it feels a bit more like I’ve got…”

“... A family?” Strangely, there was no embarrassment as I said that. It felt more sad than anything.

“Yeah…” he said weakly and turned his head away. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I always thought you considered the detectives and the SIU and everyone to be your family, right?”

“Of course I do!” He yanked his head back over towards me. “They’re aaall stuck with me till the end, that’s for sure. But, it’s a different kind of family… yaknow, baby?”

“Yeah…” You can’t do this to me. I can’t go through this again, Cabanela. “I think I do know.” I’m just going to find any reason I can to push away again. 

“Just… at the end of the day, you know someone else will be there with you. That kind of family.”

My laptop might as well have been powered off with the way I was no longer using it. Stop it, Cabanela. All my progress was being rapidly undone. I felt like I was in prison again, afraid of what was inevitably going to happen. I don’t want this to change. I don’t want this to change.

“I kind of…” You can’t say it, Yomiel. If you say it, it’s over. But, of course, I still said it anyway. “I think I feel the same way.” 

When I looked back over at the Inspector, though,

he was already asleep.

In a mere matter of minutes, in just a simple few delirious words, he tore down my fortress and crumbled my resolve. Just like that. And he did it by reminding me what I wanted. What WE wanted. He sucked me back in, and attached himself to me like a leech.

He doesn’t know how hard he’s making this for me. How could he? He has no idea what I’ve been keeping from him.

I can’t do it. I really, really don’t know if I can. I didn’t eat anything else today.

12.24.20XX

I have to do it. I have to do it.

I have to, I have to, I have to.

I’ve been trying so hard to prepare. What better way to close out the year than to knock everything down, and start from square one? (...Again.)

I have to tell him everything. I have to tell him everything. As much as I would like Detective Jowd to be there to corroborate my story, I feel like… this needs to just be Inspector Cabanela and I. 

I just need him to hear it all and understand. 

I need him to know that I hurt him. How I hurt him. How I killed him.

I have to tell him. 

And yet… I can’t.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

I don’t really want to lose any of this. I really don’t. Ever since that moment last month, I realized that I can never fully prepare myself to let all this go.

This past year has been… something. Something good or bad, I don’t know. It was something else, maybe. But, whatever it was… it’s something I don’t want to let out of my grasp. Not yet.

Help me. Help me, Sissel. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. 

After all this time, I still don’t even know how I’d do it. The very moment I try to bring up some alternate timeline of events, he’s going to write me off as crazy. I can’t pull off the same thing I did with Kamila. He needs to know everything.

I’ve really gone and worked myself into a corner here, huh? For me, both paths lead to despair. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. 

It’s so strange. This whole situation is so strange. Mentally, just a year ago, I had taken this man’s life. Things were so different then. All these things that happened, things that tore apart my life, things HE caused… all of it was erased. I have a different brain, a different body now. I can breathe, I can bleed, I can age. 

There is good in me. I know there is good in me. It was burnt away and destroyed before, but I’ve found it again. I want to be good to others, and I want to be happy with them.

And yet, I’ll be cursed with these terrible memories until the day I die. 

Maybe it’s selfish of me after all, to want to tell him. Won’t it ruin everything? Maybe I can bear the weight of knowing I’m a bad person if it meant that everyone else could carry on obliviously, happily. It’s only due to my own personal desire to knock everything down again. 

So, I suppose I’ll be selfish.

I don’t think I’ll be writing again. Thank you for listening to me.

[That was the last page in the journal.]

Chapter Text

“What do you meeeean we missed the countdown? Didn’t you just say there was still ten minutes before midnight?”

Jowd looked back over his shoulder from his spot on the sofa. “I said there were ten more minutes, ten minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t hear all the commotion from the TV.” He was half-preoccupied with balancing Kamila on the cushion next to him; despite being giddy and jumping around for the new year a couple minutes earlier, it was clear that she was fighting to stay awake already.

“Ya could’ve given us another warning, man!”

“And interrupted your ping pong tournament? The two of you looked so fierce, I fear you would’ve flung the ball directly at me if I had stepped in.”

“Come on, Detective Jowd! There was no way I was gonna let Inspector Cabanela win that last set against me!” Lynne puffed out her cheeks. “I didn’t want to risk starting the new year on a loss…”

“That’s experience versus youth, baby!” Cabanela had clearly already recovered from the shock of the time loss. “And we were sooo into it, neither of us got to kiss anyone at midnight after all.”

Lynne’s head perked up immediately. “Wait! Wait wait wait, did– did Memry leave already? If she’s still here, then maybe I can still…”

“I’m afraid she left a while back, dear.” Alma was scooping up a now-unconscious Kamila in her arms. “She said something about an early start on her next undercover job, and she took Detective Rindge with her.”

Lynne sped off at this, rapidly chewing on the nail of her thumb and mumbling something about missing her chance. Cabanela watched her pace in circles before eventually wandering off to the bathroom. Goodness, neither of those girls can ever seem to catch breaks that line up with each other.

He glanced back over at the ping pong table that had encapsulated the two of them just a few moments before. While it was initially a Christmas gift for Kamila, it seemed that everyone else had been using it instead; it functioned as both a fun party activity and a new flat surface for Sissel to sleep on. Considering how there were only a couple ping pong balls in rotation during his and Lynne’s game, Kamila probably took the rest to her room to save as more contraption supplies. 

Cabanela glanced at his watch. 12:10AM. It wasn’t that late after midnight. He could still hear the fireworks show going on outside. Most of the guests from the precinct had left the Jowd residence by now; all the New Year’s parties seemed to get cut shorter and shorter each year. They were all getting older, after all.

Well, actually, there was one person that happened to stay longer than last year. Or, at least, Cabanela hoped he did.

“Heeey, has anyone seen Yomiel around?” 

***

The inspector shut the sliding glass door behind him as he looked out into the yard. The steps of the small balcony led down to a thick sheet of snow that covered Jowd’s typically well-kept lawn. Peeking out from the roof over his head was what must have been the big finale of the fireworks display; they were all going off one after another, lighting up the sky before leaving smoky residue in their wake. The man in red that he’d been looking for was leaning against the railing, watching them. 

To say that Cabanela was nervous or afraid to confront him wasn’t the right way to put it. He had noticed, several times over, actually, how Yomiel was trying to peel himself away, how he was unable to let himself do what he wanted. He thought he had come to know Yomiel that well, at least; he clearly would like to join everyone for dinner, and yet he says no. He wants to smile and laugh, but he suppresses it. 

It wasn’t even always like that, either – Cabanela thought they had been making good progress, up until August. It was like a switch in him had gone off; suddenly, he was trying to be alone again. And, Cabanela knew that Yomiel wasn’t so twisted as to become filled with dislike for everyone after a simple beach day. He wouldn’t ever forget the look on Yomiel’s face when Alma had pushed him off Jowd’s shoulders; it was the hardest he’s seen him laugh, ever. 

The paints weren’t it, either. They couldn’t have been. 

So then… what changed? Why, after all this time, was he still so… It was almost as if what had happened last December happened once more.

Isn’t there any way for me to help him?  

Cabanela rested his arms on the railing. The fireworks had stopped.

“Don’tcha want your coat from inside? It’s freezing out here.”

Yomiel looked back over at him. “You’re not wearing your coat, either.”

“Haha, yeah…”

They were left in silence again. The only noise was the slight breeze rustling the bushes below them.

“Why are you out here?” Yomiel eventually asked. “The fireworks just finished.” 

“Just thooought I’d come and see what you were up to. Maybe catch a glimpse of the stars tonight.” Cabanela looked up to see the smoke turning the sky a murky yellow. “Or the lack thereof.”

“Um. I…” Yomiel’s gaze fell down at his hands, clasped together to conserve warmth. “This… kind of works out for me, actually.”

“Yeah? How so, baby?”

“There’s something I need to ask you.”

Something inside Cabanela’s stomach tightened. This could go in any number of directions. “Well, what is it?”

Yomiel struggled for a minute, as if even he didn’t know what he was going to say. His mouth opened a few times, only for them to end in a quiet sigh. His head dropped downwards, as if he were giving up, before he straightened, took his hands off the railing, and looked Cabanela in the eye.

“Why did you decide to have me move in with you?” 

Cabanela blinked in surprise. Why ask that now, a whole year later? Is that really all that’s been on his mind?

“Weeell…” he struggled to think of how to word it. “You had no financial support. I figured if you were gonna live with anyone, it might as well be someone you know. And…” 

“... And?” Yomiel was leaning forward expectantly, perhaps without realizing it.

“I thought we could be friends, Red.” 

And, much to Cabanela’s dismay, that looked exactly like the answer Yomiel didn’t want to hear. He all but stumbled backward, and after a moment, he returned to the balcony railing with his head shoved in one of his hands. 

“You thought we could be…” he mumbled.

Immediately, Cabanela felt a pang of regret. There’s no way it was too late for them, right? “Yomiel…”

“No, no, no, it was…” He was shaking his head. “It never would have worked out. It was hopeless from the beginning.”

“Heeey man, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve had a great time livin’ with you. If we’re not already friends, then what are we, baby?” 

“No! No, you don’t get it. From the very beginning, there was no way I’d ever be able to…” Yomiel sounded exasperated. 

“Be able to what? ” Cabanela hated to hear his patience wear thin, but he needed to know why any of this was happening.  “Listen, man, if this is about what happened all those years ago, I’m… I’m real sorry, all right? Always have been. If you need me to, I’ll apologize as many times as it takes–”

“Just stop! Please.” Yomiel’s head snapped towards Cabanela again. His face was contorted in pain. “I’m the one that needs to be apologizing. For what I did to you.”

“But you didn’t–” Cabanela paused. What? 

“I did. I… did something terrible. Lots of terrible things, actually. But I did something REALLY terrible to you, all right?” The words were just tumbling out of Yomiel's mouth. “But it’s something you don’t even know about. You CAN’T know about it. That’s why I can’t…” His head fell into his hands again.

“... Forgive yourself for it?”

Yomiel didn’t react. Then, he slowly lifted his head to meet Cabanela’s steady expression. 

Behind them, a second round of fireworks began to explode in the air.

Detective Jowd was clearly serious. He wouldn’t make something like this up. This wasn’t a joke; not with an expression like that.

Even so, Inspector Cabanela could only just barely bring himself to believe the man. The other half of his brain was screaming for his old friend to check his house for a gas leak, or to perhaps recommend him to a psychiatrist.

“So… yooou’re telling me that you, Yomiel…” he grimaced again like he just couldn’t believe it. “ Sissel, Kamila’s little cat, and Missile, Lynne’s little dog…”

“Yes,” Jowd nodded. “Because of the Temsik meteorite that landed ten years ago, the four of us… we experienced a very different version of how our lives could’ve played out. A version that was significantly worse.”

“Where you… lost your wife,” Cabanela recalled from what he’d been told earlier. 

“Yes. Truly, this reality we’re living in now is more than I ever could have asked for.” Jowd looked down with a bit of a sad smile.

“Then… why are you tellin’ me this?”

The detective caught his gaze again. “For a few reasons. The first being… that you are my greatest friend. If I were to explain this to anyone, it would be you.” He paused. “Secondly, because…”

Despite him having asked the question, Cabanela didn’t have to think too hard about the possible answers. “Is it for Yomiel?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jowd confirmed. “I get the feeling that one day, he might try to explain it all to you, what he went through. If– or maybe rather, when that time comes, you may be able to help him.”

“Help him, you say?” Does he need a lot of help? It had only been a few weeks since Yomiel had moved in, but besides being a bit of a loner, he didn’t seem all that anguished so far.

“Help him, yes. I think that from you, especially, it would go a long way. Helping him forgive himself.” Jowd paused again. “As for why, I… think that should be left to him to explain.”

Well, that was awfully mysterious. “So, I take it I’m juuust gonna have to wait for him to tell me his story himself?” Cabanela had to stop himself from grimacing again. 

“If he ever decides to at all. He may not want to tell you everything.” Jowd stroked his beard a couple times before locking eyes with him again. “But whatever he does say,

… be sure to understand him, all right?”

Right now, it felt like understanding Yomiel was the least that Cabanela could do. Even throughout the past year – no, the past decade – he had never once seen Yomiel look this pained and confused. His heart twisted at the sight of it; this was clearly important to him.

“Forgive myself…?” He had echoed softly. 

“Yeah,” Cabanela tried to match his volume. He closed the distance between them to be heard over the fireworks. “Whatever it is that you did, there’s no way I’m gonna remember it, right? Which is why you can’t move on from it.”

Yomiel looked dumbfounded. He was going to accept it that easily? “Yeah, that’s… right.”

“Then tell me, Red.” Cabanela paused for a moment. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Immediate answer. “Yes! Yes, I do, I… I have to, I… don’t have a choice anymore.”

“But do you WANT to?” He was louder this time.

Yomiel hesitated. He looked more anguished before, but there was a softness to it now.

“I really do. I want you to know,” he said after a moment. “I’m just… so… scared. I’m so scared.”

“Of what, baby?” Cabanela was suddenly quieter again. The fireworks finally stopped.

“That I’ll lose it all. Everything I’ve worked for.” Yomiel couldn’t look at him anymore. “The whole year would be soured. All of your time with me would be soured. That everything you think of me would be…” 

Silence again. Even the wind had stopped.

“I just, you know…” Yomiel continued. “I knew I’d lose it all. Everything that’s become important to me. Which is why… I felt like I had to tell you.”

“To punish yourself,” Cabanela concluded. 

“Yeah, in a sense…” Yomiel’s head dropped down again, words wavering slightly. “That I deserved it. That I was stupid for ever thinking I could… be happy with everyone. With you.” His hand snatched up to quickly rub under his sunglasses.

Cabanela didn’t have to think for another second after that. With only a tiny yelp from Yomiel, he pulled him into a tight embrace. The warmth was like fire compared to the freezing air.

“Yomiel…” Cabanela could feel him trembling against his body. “You’ve gotta know that whatever it is, whatever supposed terrible thing you did… I guarantee I’ll forgive ya, all right? I promise you.”

A quiet sniffle from Yomiel in response.

“And I’d like you to promise me,” Cabanela continued, “that once that happens, you’ll forgive yourself.”

Silence again. No wind, no fireworks. No stars in the sky. Just quiet warmth.

Eventually, Yomiel let out a laugh. “I don’t understand you people. First Kamila, and now you. Forgiving me for something you don’t even know about…”

“We trust you, baby. That’s why,” Cabanela replied like it was a no-brainer. “We’ve come to know you, who you are. And we chose to trust you.”

Yomiel’s arms finally wrapped around the inspector’s torso, returning the hug. Cabanela could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “thank you” whispered into his chest.

They pulled away from each other, Cabanelas hands resting on Yomiel’s shoulders. “Now, this thing… how ‘bout you tell me about it tomorrow?”

“Huh?” 

“C’mooon, baby, it’s late! And it’s New Year’s! Let’s have the rest of our time tonight be worry-free, yeah?” Cabanela’s gentle touch of encouragement quickly turned to an aggressively playful elbow around the neck.

“Hey, wait a second now, that’s easier said than done, you know!” To his own surprise, there was a bit of a laugh in Yomiel’s voice. 

“Naaah, it’ll be easy if I’m here, baby! Say, didja ever get to kiss anyone at midnight? Weren’t you out here all alone?”

Yomiel, with almost no moment’s delay, immediately turned the same red as his suit jacket. “I– I’m fine, thank you very much! It’s a weird tradition, anyway!” He was attempting to pry his way out of Cabanela’s grasp.

“Hey now, you try telling that to Kamila! Last I heard, she even made Sissel and Missile touch noses! No one’s gettin’ out without a kiss, man!”

After a short time of complicated struggling inexplicable through text, Cabanela’s lips somehow landed on the upper length of Yomiel’s hair, both of them stumbling inside away from the cold in the process. The argument would have continued if they hadn’t spotted Lynne asleep on the sofa, with Missile parked on top of her legs. 

It was only then that they stole a glimpse at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, indicating that it was well past 1.

“Definitely too late for some stupid kiss,” Yomiel whispered to Cabanela a few moments later as they quietly locked the front door behind them.

***

The car ride was quiet, with the roads almost eerily empty.

“So, tomorrow, huh…?” Yomiel was mumbling to himself. “Tomorrow, I should tell you?”

“Doesn’t reeeally have to be tomorrow. It can be whenever you want.” Cabanela glanced over at him from the driver’s seat. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Yomiel looked down again at his hands. The ends of his fingers were still pink, but they were considerably warmer than before. “I… don’t really think I was ready tonight. I was forcing myself.” His gaze shifted upwards, to the road before him. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready. But… maybe it will be easier now. Now that I know you’ll forgive me.”

“I’d sure hope so, baby. Nothing you say could change how I feel.”

“How you feel…” Yomiel repeated quietly. He thought for a moment. “Did Detective Jowd tell you everything?”

Cabanela very nearly almost missed the stop sign to his right. All it took was an awkward “err” from him before Yomiel let a chuckle escape him. 

“Hah… haha! Ohh, I wish I’d known that. I was so worried you wouldn’t believe a single word I’d say.” Yomiel doubled over in his seat as his giggle turned into a real laugh.

“Whaaat, as if, baby! Of course I’d believe your story about…” Cabanela struggled to recall the exact fantastical details he’d learned so many months ago. “Uhh… strange radioactive meteorites.”

Yomiel laughed harder. A real jovial, contagious laugh. Cabanela found himself laughing, too. The drive home was no longer quiet.