Returning from the boss room to the village took significantly longer the second time. I debated not returning at all, but the image of green-flame eyes appearing in the night kept my feet moving until I reached the safety of Clark’s inn. Still, I stood outside, listening to the loud chatter coming from within. I had so utterly . If it weren’t for Jeff, Cynthia would still be chained to that wall, suffering horrendously. He hadn’t hesitated to enter the room or even to cut off his own arm to save her.

  Eventually, the pain in my feet and a desire to sleep overcame the shame that rooted me in place. I entered the inn’s great room, head low. I would sneak upstairs to my bed and find whatever solace sleep provided cowards. Almost immediately, my plan was thwarted.

  “You!” The single word, nearly a scream, slammed into me, the massive weight of accusation halting my sheepish journey to the stairs.

  I turned my head and raised my gaze, expecting to see Cynthia condemning me. Instead, Elaine rushed toward me, her face flushed with rage.

  She slammed into me, rebounded off my large stomach, and then attacked me with wild fists. “You fucking gutless sack of blubber! You don’t deserve to be counted as human! Scum! You are fucking scum!” She continued to scream insults, each landing harder than her fists.

  I stood, unmoving, not trying to block, and took the punishment. Nails slashed my face, drops of blood beading on my cheek. Pummeling fists slammed into my stomach, chest, shoulders, and head. She held nothing back, and she was right to do so. I deserved it all.

  “.” Jeff stepped between us, gently yet forcefully holding Elaine back. She struggled against him for a few seconds before stilling and taking a breath.

  “He doesn’t deserve to be here. We should kick him out,” Elaine said, her eyes never leaving me. A glimmer of victory flickered across her features as she examined the damage she’d dealt.

  “That’s not how this works,” Jeff said.

  “Bullshit it’s not! There are no . He left Cynthia to be fucking tortured because he was too much of a pussy to try and help.”

  “We aren’t going to throw him out of the inn. It’s not even inn.”

  “Fine,” Elaine said, some of the mania returning. “We just kill him until he stops coming back.”

  Jeff’s voice grew hard. “We are not anyone.”

  Elaine rolled her eyes. “We’re in a . It’s not murder. He’ll come back right out there.”

  I stepped back toward the door, readying myself just to leave. Two strangers, people I barely recognized from the halls of work, stared at me with a hostility that, while only a faint echo, matched Elaine’s. Jeff was being unnecessarily kind. He was the best bet for everyone to survive all of this with some level of sanity. I couldn’t stay and force him to defend me. The others would turn against him.

  “It’s just a game!” Elaine yelled to whatever Jeff had said. “He deserves—“

  “Stop, Elaine.” The calm yet insistent voice halted my slow backward shuffle and filled me with dread.

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  Cynthia, only feet away, slowly walked toward the three of us, a heavy blanket wrapped around her short frame. She moved without physical pain. She looked healthy, but I could see something wasn’t quite right. A deep and set-in sea of panic frothed behind green eyes, a trauma that would linger for life. I looked at my feet, unable to bear seeing the consequence of my weakness.

  Every blow from Elaine, both verbal and physical, was nothing compared to the self-contempt that roiled through me. I nearly fell to my knees, I was so overwhelmed. My heart hammered in my chest, and my breathing ceased to bring oxygen to my blood. I was on the verge of hyperventilating when a soft hand landed on my shoulder.

  I winced, pulling back, but the hand followed. I looked up. Cynthia stood before me, my mass towering over her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “What the hell are you thanking him—” Elaine began.

  “Elaine!” Cynthia snapped. “It was who found me. If not for him, I’d still… I’d still be…”

  Her words fell away. The sea of panic behind her eyes began to rage. Her fingers clenched, digging into my flesh. In response to the biting pain of her fingernails and without thought, my hand moved, my meaty palm engulfing Cynthia’s straining hand. Her skin was cool to the touch and slightly damp with sweat. On contact, her muscles relaxed. As the pain of her biting nails faded, I realized that her hand was in my own, and I immediately dropped my arm, looking back down to the floor.

  Cynthia’s touch moved from my shoulder to my face, gently pulling my gaze up to meet her own. I tried to drop my eyes, but she pushed my head up until I looked at her. “Thank you. You did what you could, and it was enough.” She held my face for a moment longer before the moment was stolen.

  “Cynthia,” Elaine said, grabbing everyone’s attention with her chaotic tone. “He left you! He’s worthless! We’re better off without—”

  “This isn’t just a ,” Cynthia said, her words sharp. “You need to get over yourself, Elaine.”

  Elaine’s face went red. Her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Cynthia. “Are you fucking kidding me? I need to get myself?” With everyone’s focus on Elaine and her ire turned on Cynthia, I backed up. I was still only a few steps from the door. My back hit wood. The room had devolved into chaos with Jeff and a few others trying to pacify Elaine as she railed against Cynthia.

  I opened the door and slipped outside.

  As soon as the door shut behind me, I fell to my hands and knees. My fingers flexed against the cobbles as I choked out a violent sob. I had been prepared for what Elaine had said; it was what I deserved. Cynthia, though, her words had formed a cavern in my chest—hollow, devoid of light, and in the shape of her gratitude. My mind couldn’t wrap around her words and her gentleness. I’d left her to be tortured, doing no more than throwing someone else at the problem, yet she had thanked me. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the discordance banging around inside my skull.

  With an anguished yell, I stood and ran. My body revolted, pain lancing through my sore and achy feet. I welcomed the pain; it pushed away thought, granting me solace from the echoes of Cynthia’s kindness. I chose no direction, my eyes staring only at the ground beneath my feet. I instinctively ran uphill, maximizing my suffering. My muscles burned, and my lungs heaved like ancient, broken bellows. My heart, already on the verge of failure from the day’s events, slammed against my ribs as if it were trying to escape its sadistic slave driver. I pushed on, tears, both of pain and the twisted relief the pain brought, streamed down my face.

  I didn’t know how long I ran, but eventually, my body quit. I crashed to the ground, only dimly aware of the sudden stillness and the impact of my face on dirt. My consciousness rose and fell for some amount of time I couldn’t track, but as it started to finally fade, a voice spoke, feminine and gentle. Like the dying mind grasping at any sensation, my consciousness consumed the words, holding them against the growing darkness.

  “Hopefully, this will help.”

  Something was drawn from me and moments later returned. Whatever it was had been taken in a form raw and wild and returned structured like a stand of trees being cut, processed, and framed, and now ready to be built upon. I had no capacity to wonder at what had happened as my awareness finally relinquished its hold on reality.