What was once a gift turned into horror when things became much worse than before.

"Do not think about it too much," Fernand said firmly while searching for twigs that would help build the fire up he was making. "It's not as if you can do something about it."

"Well, maybe because I can," I snapped. "But I just don't know how.. yet," I said, my voice cracking and slowly fading with every word.

"See, that's what I'm saying. If you can't think of a solution yet, save it for another day. You'll go crazy any minute now if you stay like that. Besides, you need to rest. We need to go before sunrise."

"Sure, I'm already crazy anyway. Why would we run away, in the first place, if I'm not?"

It has been almost a week since we left the tribe. Our home. Fernand is a close friend whom I caught up with. Honestly, I can't remember how we ended up together. It should have been only me whom they are after. It's my fault anyway. It was my mistake to trust this superficial, unknown-to-the-universe magical power or whatnot.

"Monica," Fernand spoke of my name calmly as he placed both hands on my arms. It was tight and his hands were heavy but I did not complain. I suddenly felt safe and secured. "You'll get this over with. Trust me. I'm with you, remember?"

My face got warmer as if steam were going round my body instead of blood. I hope I'm wrong that colors began to fill my cheeks. "Thank you, Fernand. I mean it. You know, I probably won't be here right now if you're not with me. So, me being alive right now is all thanks to you," were all the words that were swarming around my head but a "Yeah, sure," was all I can muster.

Fernand removed his grip and walked the other way but he stopped abruptly. He turned towards me and gave me a straight face.

Not good.

I noticed small bright orange flickers and moving dark figures where Fernand was looking. Not so long, I heard shouts of a "Bitch" or a "Witch" or maybe both and realized that a swarm of villagers carrying long torches were coming our way. And I knew they were calling me.

Images flashed my head of people with bodies contorted into weird positions I can't make out. Children with white liquid and bubbles gurgling over their mouths. Men and women alike with bloated stomachs and open wounds. I crouched and tried to shake off the images out my head. My vision became blurry and tears flowed endlessly. For some reason, they became like that because of me. I did that.

Fernand crouched beside me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

"Come on. Save your tears for later. We need to run."