A Scum's Redemption

Days pass.

The fire shrinks.

The meat dwindles.

Hope bleeds out slowly, like something wounded that doesn't realize it's dying.

One night, the fire's just a flicker.

I'm sharpening bones again—not because I think they'll help, just because doing something feels better than doing nothing.

Kai's sitting beside me.

Always too close.

Still cheerful.

He talks like this is all temporary.

Like we're camping.

Like Gil's just around the corner with a cart and a plan.

"Do you think Gil snores?" he asks.

I grunt.

"I bet he does. Loud."

I don't answer.

He keeps going. Keeps smiling. Keeps asking questions like the cave isn't real.

And then—

"Why do you call me Kai?"

I glance at him.

He's staring into the fire.

Voice small. Steady.

"My name is Kaelen. My parents gave me that."

He hugs his knees tighter.

"I like it."

I freeze.

The stick in my hand slips. Drops.

The fire cracks. Smoke curls up between us.

"Well… you see…"

I swallow.

The words don't want to come out.

"I had a brother. Once."

My voice is quieter than I expect.

"His name was Kaelen too. But he's… he's no longer with us."

I force a breath.

Try to keep the tremble out of my voice.

"So I started calling you something else. Just to… keep the memories separate."

"It helps?" he asks.

I flinch.

He doesn't push.

Just nods once.

Then looks up at me.

His eyes are big in the firelight.

Softer than they should be.

And he says it:

"I can be your brother."

The words land like a knife between ribs.

Sharp.

Sudden.

"Wh—What?"

"Well…"

He shrugs.

"You said he's not with you anymore."

A pause.

"So I'll be your brother."

"Just until he comes back."

I don't breathe.

I can't.

It's too simple.

Too clean.

Like the world makes sense to him in a way it never will again for me.

I want to shut it down.

That nothing comes back.

That brothers don't return from the places mine went.

But I look at him—

That face.

That smile.

Like the world hasn't tried to take everything from him yet.

And I fold.

"Alright," I say, voice raw.

"But I'm still calling you Kai."

"Okay, brother."

He leans against me.

With a smile on his face like he just found a whole loaf of bread that no one saw him take. 

And I just sit there, staring into the fire, hating how much I want to believe it.

You can't be my brother.

Not really.

Not with what I've done. Not with what I am.

You're a gift. I'm the reason people lose them.

My job is to keep you breathing.

To fulfill her wish.

That's all.

Time stops meaning anything after a while.

There's no sun here.

Just the fire and the hunger.

And both are running out.

The meat goes first.

We stretch it as far as we can. Strip everything from the bones. Even the scraps.

Kai eats first.

I chew what's left.

Some nights there's nothing for me at all.

I don't complain.

By the fifteenth day, the last bite disappears into Kai's mouth.

He doesn't even smile this time.

He just chews slowly. Swallows. Then curls up beside me without a word.

The fire flickers low.

The silence stretches.

And stays.

There's no more kindling.

The moss won't light.

Everything is too damp.

We lose the sense of time. First in hours. Then in whole days.

No fire.

No food.

Just cold and hungry. 

The sound of our stomachs folding in on themselves.

Like unwelcome guests refusing to let you forget about them.

I can't feel my fingers half the time. My arm still burns under the sling, healing wrong. Maybe never healing at all.

Kai doesn't ask questions anymore.

He just lays there. Breathing.

I think that's why I'm still here. Just to count those breaths.

But it's getting harder.

Every second.

The hunger isn't just pain now.

It's a voice.

A quiet one.

Familiar.

He'll die here.

Both of you will.

Unless one of you stops being the problem.

I try to shake it.

Try to think of Reyda. Of promises. Of firelight and forgiveness.

But those memories feel thin now. Like parchment soaked through. Like things I borrowed from someone better.

All I see is the cellar.

The dark.

The wet walls.

The days I spent chewing on mold and lies just to quiet the noise in my gut.

The way the hunger got inside your head—made you see things. Smell food that wasn't there. Hear water dripping like it was laughing at you.

I remember digging into a rat like it was salvation.

And I remember thinking—this is it. This is what I am now.

It terrifies me.

More than the wolves.

More than dying.

Because that hunger—it doesn't leave.

It just waits.

It's a beast that knows your name and only asks once.

And I can feel it coming back.

I can feel it smiling.

I stare at Kai while he sleeps.

So easy to leave.

So easy to justify.

But gods, I don't want to.

Even thinking it makes me feel like something inside me is dying slower than the rest.

I try to picture Gil.

And I know.

He's not coming.

Why would he?

He doesn't really know us.

If the roles were reversed—if it were me?

I would've abandoned us before we even got caught.

I know it.

Because I've done worse for less.

I wanted to believe in him. I really did. But that hope starved to death somewhere around day ten.

I close my eyes.

Just for a breath.

And when I open them again—

He's there.

Gil. Standing at the top of the cavern. Framed by light.

No rope. No tools. Just him.

Looking down.

Watching.

He doesn't speak.

Just nods. Once. Like everything's going to be okay.

Like I didn't mess this up beyond fixing.

I blink.

He's gone.

Just wet stone and an empty slit of sky.

No one's coming.

I could climb.

Even like this. I know I could.

If I leave tonight—quiet, fast—Kai won't even wake up.

I could find help. Or food. Or nothing.

But it'd be something.

Something other than this slow, cold death.

Something I could survive.

I press my head into my hands.

Heart cold.

The fire's out.

And I don't know if I can keep pretending that I'm not.

The days that follow aren't days.

Empty hours blurred by hunger and silence.

Even Kai stops speaking.

I don't know how long it's been.

Three days since we last spoke?

Four?

His voice, once so constant, disappears like everything else.

It's over.

One night, I sit in the dark and say nothing.

There's no grief.

No fear.

Just a quiet kind of surrender.

The kind that doesn't beg.

The kind that knows better.

I look at Kai with a regretful stare.

He's curled in the corner, breathing shallow, sleeping.

Still alive. But I've already let go. 

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Not to him.

Not even to her.

To the part of myself that thought I could change.

I pull the sling tighter.

Test the grip in my good hand.

And start to climb.

The stone is wet beneath my fingers.

Each hold is slick and cold.

But I move.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

Every step I take is a betrayal.

A step away from the boy sleeping in the dark.

A step away from the promise I made to a dying woman.

A step back toward the thing I used to be.

The higher I climb,

the quieter I become.

And somewhere in my chest—

the darkness starts to feel like home again.

I drag myself through the slit, shoulders scraping, lungs burning, stone biting at every inch of me. And when I'm through—

I just stand there.

For a second.

Not to breathe. Not to think.

Just to feel how easy it is.

To walk away.

Like it's something I've done a hundred times before.

Then I move towards safety leaving behind the darkness that trapped me.