Chapter 3
Edwin didn't pull away, but he didn't lean in either. He just kept looking at me. Something in his eyes shifted, just a little.
"The oatmeal's going to get cold," I said, pulling my hand back. "Eat."
He lowered his head and finally started eating.
He took small bites, slowly and carefully, as if he were trying to make it last.
When he finished, he handed the empty bowl back to me. His eyes didn't look as empty as before.
"My name is Amanda Cooke," I said with a smile. "You can call me Amanda."
He didn't respond, but I noticed his hand tighten around the edge of the blanket.
After seven or eight days, his wounds had healed enough for him to get out of bed.
During that time, he barely spoke. Most days, he just sat there, staring out the window like his mind was somewhere else.
I talked to him, and he listened, but he never started a conversation. I gave him food, and he ate, but only a little. I changed his bandages, and he didn't resist or flinch.
It was like he had shut himself off completely.
The only time he reacted was when I left.
That day, I went into town to buy supplies and came back later than usual. When I pushed the door open, I saw him curled up in the corner, shaking.
"What's wrong?" I rushed over to him.
He looked up at me. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice rough and thin. "I thought you weren't coming back."
I was stunned.
"No one comes back," he said. "Once people leave, they don't come back."
Something in my chest tightened hard.
I crouched in front of him and looked straight into his eyes. "Listen to me. I will come back. Every time I leave, I'll come back.
"And if there ever is a day I have to go, I'll tell you first. I won't disappear on you. Do you understand?"
He stared at me for a long time, long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer.
"Okay," he finally said.
It was quiet, almost too soft to hear. But I heard it.
From that day on, he finally started to talk.
He didn't talk much or fast. Just a word here and there, slow and careful. But it was a start. At least now, he could say my name.
The first time I heard it, I was scooping food into a bowl.
He was standing behind me. "Amanda."
His voice was soft and almost shy. My hand jerked, and I nearly dropped the bowl.
I turned around. He stood there, ears faintly red. But his eyes were bright.
"Say it again," I said.
He hesitated, then repeated it even softer, "Amanda."
I smiled, my eyes curving.
And for the first time, he smiled too.
It was faint, just the slightest lift at the corner of his mouth. But I saw it.
*****
Days slipped by like that.
I drifted from one town to the next with Edwin. Some days, I washed clothes for people. Other days, I copied books by hand.
When work was scarce, I went into the mountains to gather herbs and traded them for a little money.
It was never much, but it was enough for the two of us to eat. Every now and then, I could even afford to buy him a new piece of clothing.
Edwin followed me without ever asking where we were going or what we were doing. When I walked, he walked. When I stopped, he stopped. When I worked, he crouched nearby and watched me, like a quiet little shadow.
Sometimes, when I got tired, I would glance back at him. The second our eyes met, he would run over, tilt his face up, and ask, "Amanda, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I would say. "I just wanted to look at you."
He would press his lips together in a small smile and go back to where he had been.
That smile was clean and soft, like sunlight in early spring.
The system kept talking in my head every day.
[Host, do you realize you are raising someone who will bring you trouble?]
[Host, in the original story, Edwin spent the years from seven to ten in a mine. Now he is with you. The story has already changed. The system cannot predict the outcome.]
[Host, have you really never thought about abandoning him?]
Every time, I treated those words like background noise.
That day, we passed by a church and stepped inside to wait out the rain. Edwin crouched in a corner, and I sat on the stone steps at the entrance, watching the sky.
The rain came down hard. It hit the ground in loud, steady splashes.
"Amanda, why are you good to me?" Edwin asked suddenly.
I turned to look at him.
He had his head down, so I couldn't see his face.
"When you found me, I was covered in blood. I was dirty and smelled bad," he said. "But you still took me in. You treated my wounds. You gave me food and clothes. Aren't you afraid of me?"
I thought about it for a moment. "No."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you're a kid," I replied.
He looked up at me.
"You're just a kid," I said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
He went quiet.
The rain kept pounding outside, loud enough to drown out everything else.
After a long pause, he said, "Not everyone thinks children are harmless."
I waited for him to continue.
"My father said I was a monster reborn. He said I was born unlucky." His voice stayed calm, like he was talking about someone else. "When I was born, my mother died. So he said I was a curse who killed her."