She felt there was something odd about the man who sat down on the park bench beside her. He was wearing an old brown coat, rugged from long-time wear and all kinds of weather. He took off his hat and put it in his lap. His eyes wandered around the park, taking in the pleasant atmosphere from children running on the playground and a couple having a picnic not too far away.
Wallachia kept her distance - as best she could, still sitting on the same bench - and didn't waver from her frantic nibbling on the dried meat she held in a clenched fist. Its sweet aroma and delicious taste was filling her senses and she was determined not to let it escape her until she was done with it. If there was something she really disliked, it was interruptions during lunch.
As she munched away on the meat, the man picked up a cellphone from his pocket and began to text a message. His fingers were moving back and forth slightly, unsure of what to press, and a flair of annoyance began to cloud his face.
"Stupid machine," he mumbled, continuing to press the wrong buttons and only getting error messages, announcing every mistake he did with a cheerful beep. Wallachia couldn't help but smile at his incompetence.
It took a while for him to finish the message and finally send it - during which Wallachia managed to finish her lunch - and he gave a happy sigh as he slumped back against the bench's support. Wallachia gave him a side glance and bumped her feet against the ground whilst leaning back with her hands supporting her. She didn't have anything to do until the late evening, so she didn't mind sitting down and taking it easy for a while. It was just that she was becoming more bored as time grew on.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" the man suddenly said out of the blue.
"School?" Wallachia said. She gave a little smile as she thought for a second over what he asked. "Oh, I don't go to school."
He nodded thoughtfully at the answer, which surprised Wallachia. Usually people would continue to question her about it, wanting to know all the circumstances. She found it extremely annoying as she was of the opinion that the answer she had given was enough. The man sitting next to her was different from the others.
"So I thought. It wouldn't fit you, Miss Wallachia."
At the mention of her name, she became instinctively alert and mentally told Scitzy to get ready, in case an ambush was in place.
"How do you know my name?" she asked and stared at him. Her smile had disappeared and she sat up straight as if to jump on him at a moment's notice.
"I know most things about you; your parents, your childhood... your situation." He flipped his hat a number of times and looked at it thoughtfully before speaking again. "I was the leader of a small team consisting of investigators a couple of years ago. We were investigating a series of homicides which went beyond anything we had seen; cannibalism, disembowelment, dismemberment..."
He let go of his hat and let it fall down again into his lap. He leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. "It eventually lead us to Bloodspeaker and you. After we took him down and saved you, the cases stopped appearing, and the team was split. Three years later, I quit."
"I'm not interested in your life's story," Wallachia said bluntly and jumped off from the bench as she glared at him in annoyance. "If you'll excuse me-"
"Herzia I think her name was. At the time, she was one of my subordinates." When Herzia's name was mentioned, Wallachia stopped and stared at him. Slowly a grin began to unravel on her lips.
"Have you come for revenge? To take me down for what I did to her? If you think that's going to happen, you are sadly mistaken."
The man shook his head sadly and observed a couple of ducks swimming in the pond a few meters away. "No, I have no interest in arresting you. I'm not an investigator anymore and hell, I don't want to know how many you've killed or eaten. It's too much for an old man to fathom.
"But, I do care about the victims and want to see an end to your rampage. Have no doubt that I would like to see you stopped, imprisoned for the rest of your life. But that's not up to me to decide."
"So why are you here?" Wallachia asked. She sat down on the bench again, genuinely intrigued , trusting the man enough to know she wasn't in any danger, for the moment. Scitzy hadn't warned her about other presences in the vicinity either.
"To find out why, Wallachia. Why you do this. Whatever is so wrong in that little head of yours, it needs a purpose as to why." He heaved himself up and looked down on the ground with his hands clasped between his knees. "You see, I believe that all living beings have a purpose. Some have found it, others are still searching and some say there is no purpose.
"I haven't found my purpose yet, even though I've been searching for a long time. Who knows, maybe I will die before I find out, but it keeps me going.
"But when I look at you, I simply can't see a purpose for such an insane abomination. I just can't wrap my head around you, as to why you would do such horrendous crimes."
Slightly taken aback, Wallachia tried to spell out an answer. She thought about it, looping it around in her head multiple times. Why she didn't walk away from him like she usually did was beyond even her.
"I was... hungry," she finally said after almost a minute. Her face was blank, surprised at herself for not coming up with anything else. It was, after all, what had first popped up.
"You were hungry. Brilliant," the man repeated and chuckled quietly. "I thought it had something to do with Bloodspeaker, but it seems I was wrong."
"No!," Wallachia burst out, waving her arms. "I do it for him. I loved him. That's why I do it."
"Really? Are you sure about that?"
"I'm... sure."
"I think you are lying. To yourself."
Wallachia's confusion grew. She shook her head to try and clear it. Didn't she do it because of her love? What other thing was there? Satisfaction? Was it really hunger?
"You are lost," the man said after a while as the silence dragged on. "You have no idea why, do you?"
Wallachia shook her head and gave him a look of desperate confusion. "I know why... it's just that I don't know which of them it is. I have plenty of reasons."
"Yet you still think those reasons are valid, which they aren't. Therein lies your problem. You, with no purpose, are trying to find a valid reason to do something you think is your purpose, what you want to do. You're wrong."
He pointed at Wallachia's head and nodded at it. "I think there is another part of you that is screaming on the inside. A part which sees all the terrible things you do, but can't tell you you are wrong, because it's confused. That's what I think is your purpose."
She put a hand to her forehead and rubbed it, as she slumped back onto the bench, mentally exhausted trying to understand. "No... that can't be it. Impossible."
"Well, that's what I think anyway. Your purpose, to put it simply, is to realize that that part exist." He rose from the bench and put the hat back on his balding head. "Don't try to find me because, trust me, you wouldn't be able to anyway. I think, hell, hope even, you will eventually find what you are looking for. Then, maybe, it wouldn't be necessary to put an end to your life, be it by the cops' hands or my own. See you around Blood Maiden, I'm sure we'll meet again."
His boots crunched against the pebble path as he headed for home, leaving Wallachia behind on the bench with a headache pounding inside her head.
"Hey, Scitzy... What should I do?" she asked, almost acting as if she was in shock.
[He's wise. You should know I only want the best for you, my child,] Scitzavrenignas echoed inside her head. [Go by your instincts. I won't stop you.]
"But I don't know what do..."
[I know you don't. But, I have faith in you and I don't doubt you will make the right choice.]
Something clicked inside the Blood Maiden's head and she held up a hand against the sunlight coming from above. It reflected in the tears that slowly emerged from her eyes. Not tears of sadness, but rather from enlightenment, a benevolent truth she hadn't seen.
There are two of "me"... But, which one is "me"? Is there even a "me"? If not... then, who am I?