While we were searching for a place that, according to her, was a safe place, I told her everything. Everything about the crow and what it had said about finding the camp. But the only thing I did not tell her was what the crow had said, "Only selfish people are left." I was afraid of saying it. What if she was not selfish and she judged me, or worse, left me alone here again. I was being selfish, I knew, but the fear of being alone in this silent world was scarier than the guilt of not telling her. Then the realization gnawed at me. Only the selfish remain meant she was also selfish.
"Are you selfish?" I asked. After all, only selfish people were to stay in this world. I was suspicious of her at this point, although she had saved my life, and I was happy that there was another human. I had to ask her that. What shocked me more was her nonchalant reply.
"Very much so," she said without even looking at me, as if it were the most normal thing to say. I was shocked. Did she not feel ashamed to admit it?
"Why do you ask?" Her question pulled me out of my thoughts.
"There is one thing I did not tell you about being here," I started to say, but fear of her reaction, or maybe rejection, stopped me. I was afraid she would leave me here, and I would be alone again.
"Go ahead," she said, still walking.
Why was she so unbothered by everything here. It was starting to irritate me.
"The crow I told you about also said that everyone has disappeared and" I took a deep breath to compose myself, "only the selfish remain."
"I figured as much when you asked me if I was selfish," she said calmly.
"Aren't you scared?" I asked. My feet came to a halt. "Of being here?"
She turned and looked at me. It felt like the world was still. Not a single soul. The wind, the sun, the light, none of it mattered except those dark eyes of hers. I wanted to see fear in her eyes, the same fear I had experienced this past month. I wanted her to cry and prove my perception right. But she did not cry. She did not look afraid. She just stared at me.
"Being here is better," she said softly, then looked at the ground. It was not the reaction I wanted. I wanted her to panic, but her reaction was relief mixed with sadness.
"How can you think it is better. We will die here just like this, with no clue of what happened or why we are here." I could not help the anger and helplessness. "I am stuck here. I want to go home. I have been thinking I would die like this without seeing my mom one last time. I do not even know where they are, where I am, or how they are living. She probably thinks I ran away from home. You do not understand anything. It must be better for you, or maybe an adventure." I did not even realize I was crying. I thought I was only shouting, at her or at myself. I just wanted to go back home.
"You are not dead. And your family, I do not know how they are doing or where they are." She sighed, then looked at me. "But if we think logically, we have not disappeared, and neither has the entire population of this earth. We are in a place that is like a mirror world, a reflection of the real world, but with no one here. I feel like in the real world we do not exist, or maybe time has stopped there. Because you and I are real, and if this world's creatures try to keep us here forever, it will also affect the real world."
She stopped speaking. She was staring over my shoulder as if she had seen something terrifying. There was fear in her eyes, but not the loud kind. It was the kind that is almost painful, and it seemed like her eyes were filling with tears, though none fell.
I turned to see what made her react like that, and I was shocked. It was a reflection of a little girl, a toddler sitting on a sofa near a window in a cute pink flowery dress, her short hair tied in elegant ponytails. She was looking outside her house. Then a woman walked past the toddler, but she did not look at the baby. The baby turned completely toward the woman as if hoping she would hold her. She even looked at the woman with a smile, but the woman did not give her any attention. The baby's smile dropped. It was clear it was not the first time the woman had done this to her. The toddler stared straight ahead with those intense eyes. They were innocent, but now they looked blank.
Inside that same reflection I saw the creature again, the one that looked like a snake. My breath hitched. I quickly turned to the girl beside me. She was still staring at the baby, and it seemed like tears were flowing down her cheeks. I ran to her, gripped her shoulders tightly, and shook her.
"It is not true. It is just an illusion. Do not look at it." I was panicked. "Please, please, it is the snake. It is an illusion. It is not you."
I was almost screaming. It was an illusion of something I did not understand, but I was sure that snake was doing it. But why.
She looked at me but stayed quiet. Then she wiped her tears and started walking again. I was too confused to understand what any of this meant, so I followed her quietly. I could not help turning back to look at the reflection of the toddler. It was still there. The baby's expression was serious, and those tears felt like each one was falling on my heart.
"Do not look at it. It is not real," her voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "We need to find a place that is safe. Otherwise that snake will just follow us and show us those illusions." She explained, and I followed her quietly.
Hours passed before I found the courage to ask for her name. It had been hours since we had been walking, and I did not even know what to call her.
"What is your name?" I finally asked, looking at her. She did not look at me, and it seemed like she did not want to tell me, but she replied regardless.
"I do not know if it is safe for me to say my name because that thing" She pointed at the snake that had been following us. "What if it does something, just like the illusion it made." She was right. This snake looked like it wanted to do something really bad to us. First it had targeted me, and then her.
"Fair," I said, but I really wanted to know her name. "So I should not say my name either?" I asked hesitantly. I almost felt like I was relying on her like a child.
"Do not. We do not want you in trouble either," she replied, calm as ever. It made me wonder what was going on inside her head. Was she truly this unbothered, or was it a persona she carried. And what was that illusion about, that little girl. Was it really her.
"But we cannot just address each other as "you", so how about you call me" She paused for a moment, as if trying to come up with a name.
"Sky." I could not help myself. I said it. She looked at me for a while, then nodded.
"Okay. Then I will call you Ash," she said and started walking again.
Ash, I thought to myself. It was a good name.