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Her white dress, stained with blood, was covered in cuts. Her pink eyes, filled with sadness, were directed at the Doctor. Her hands were trembling as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She had lost control over her body because of it. Still, she was thankful to God, as her injuries weren’t fatal. She took one step towards the Doctor, the reason for all of this. She wanted to know why. No, she already knew why. She just wanted to hear it confirmed.
“Doctor, why?”
The Doctor’s mouth didn’t even dare to open. His guilt was unbearable; he felt shameless. He didn’t move an inch, even when Theresa stopped just a step away from him. Her bloody hand, wounded by her own kin, rested against his face. Her eyes held not a single trace of hatred. They screamed only of sorrow. And that lack of hatred made him feel even more guilty, so guilty he wished he could die on the spot.
“Tell me, Doctor. Was sacrificing me worth the wishes of the past?”
This time he tried to speak. He wanted to apologize, though he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He wanted to explain how sorry he was, how much he regretted everything he had done. But no words came.
“Are you really happy with this ending?”
He couldn’t answer that either. He didn’t even know if he had any control over his own body anymore. Everything felt too real, yet unreal all the same.
“You killed me, Doctor. You killed the happy future. You ruined everything.”
Theresa’s eyes began dripping blood as her whole body distorted. Yet he wasn’t surprised. He knew the moment she had spoken her last sentence that this was just another dream. She was far too kind to ever speak like that, even in such a situation.
The dream didn’t last long. His eyes snapped open, and sweat burned them as he tried to steady his breathing. These dreams had haunted him since that day, and if they continued, he feared he would lose his mind.
As seconds passed, his grip on the blanket loosened and his breathing steadied. Once he felt his body had stabilized, he uncovered himself and stood. The adrenaline and slight trembling were still there, so he needed relief. The only thing he could think of now was a bath. With slow steps, he made his way to the bathroom.
He prepared everything and sank into the tub filled with hot water. His muscles began to relax, and he started to feel more at ease. But there was a problem. The silence of the bathroom made his mind wander back to distant memories.
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“Doctor! Doctor!”
Amiya’s cheerful voice filled his ears as he found himself in the past. The young Cautus girl was holding a sheet of paper covered with scribbles, grinning excitedly as she ran toward him.
“Look, I finished the drawing I showed you yesterday!”
The Doctor smiled as he inspected the paper. Of course, there was Theresa, someone Amiya loved so much, drawn as a stick figure. He could tell it was her by the messy pink hair. Amiya always drew her like that.
The other two figures were Amiya herself and, unsurprisingly, him. All three were holding hands and smiling brightly.
“This is so cute, Amiya. I love it.”
He patted her head in praise. Just then, one of the doors connected to room opened, and his eyes instinctively turned toward the sound. The one who entered was none other than the pink-haired woman Amiya had drawn.
As soon as Amiya noticed Theresa, she abandoned the Doctor’s side and ran to embrace her.
“You’re as lively as ever, Amiya.”
The most genuine smile he had ever seen lit up Theresa’s face. That smile… it was so beautiful. And yet, he had destroyed it all. His guilt crushed him. He couldn’t continue the memory, couldn’t even bear to look at her face, not even in his own imagination.
His eyes opened once more as he realized tears had fallen into the bathwater.
For the millionth time, he asked himself the same question: Is it even worth continuing?
It was an empty question. Its answer didn’t matter either way. He had to continue. He had to keep his end of the promise, after all.
He gripped the edge of the bathtub and stood up. He pulled the drain, watching the water swirl away. Then he closed it again and walked toward the door, only to stop when he saw the foggy mirror. Instinctively, he wiped it clean. And the moment he saw his reflection, he regretted it. His stomach churned with nausea and rage. That face only reminded him of his sins, his failures, his regret.
The longer he looked, the more violent his rage grew. Within seconds, he lost control. He punched the mirror, not as if it were glass, but as if it were his own face staring back at him.
The mirror shattered with a deafening crack. The sound snapped him back to reality, and he immediately regretted it as pain seared through his bloody hand. Shards of glass were lodged deep into his skin.
Maybe this was what he deserved. After all, pain was the only way he could feel relief. Any moment of comfort was poisoned by regret. He had to face his sins. Pain was the only redemption he could believe in.
He stared at his hand as blood dripped down. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the damp floor, littered with shards of glass. With a sigh, he looked down at his hands.
“If Kal’tsit were here, she’d lecture me while patching me up… But after everything that’s happened, I doubt that’s the case.”
After that day, Kal’tsit had taken Amiya and fled. To her, the person she admired most, had killed one of the people she cherished most. Of course she wouldn’t scold him for his self-destructive habits while treating him anymore. He had seen the anger in her eyes. The thirst for vengeance.
The people he once cared for, the people who once cared for him, were all gone. He wanted to keep his promise to her, the Priestess. He didn’t want to betray her. But that wish had forced him to betray everyone else he loved. He had lost every single one of them, and now he was alone.
The promise still lingered, but he wondered if it even mattered anymore. He wondered if these emotions surging inside him would ever calm down, even if he kept that promise.
He had known the answer for a long time. He just didn’t want to admit it. But the time had come. He couldn’t run from it any longer.
“I’m just a complete mess.”
He tried to stand. Blood loss made his body weak, but he forced himself upright. Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom. He opened the drawer by his bed and pulled out the weapon hidden there. He had bought it for self-defense, never realizing its barrel would one day be turned on himself.
His finger lingered on the trigger after flicking off the safety. The last time, he had failed only because of that.
As his eyes locked on the barrel, countless questions flooded his mind. Would he finally find relief after this? Was there truly a god? Was there an afterlife? If the Priestess still existed somewhere, would she forgive him for breaking the promise, or taking his own life?
He couldn’t answer a single one. His heart pounded as he slowly pressed the trigger.
A sharp, agonizing pain tore through his chest. He crumpled to the floor, and with his last breath, only one name escaped his lips.
“I’m sorry, Theres…”