Page 46 of Souls We Rip

I tilted my head, my eyebrows furrowing. “You and your master have the wrong impression that a peasant girl must be naïve or lack certain skills. Being humble and a good person does not make me stupid.”

I turned my back to him, the cold air from the cave refreshing after the time spent in the heat.

“You’re right, I apologise,” Andrei said, floating faster to me. “Sometimes, I return to being the person I was before death.”

“And that was?” I asked, curious about the boy he was before.

We entered the kitchen, where the soup was boiling on the stove. The smell of freshly cooked tăiței mixed with the aroma of vegetables and chicken made my stomach growl. I took a seat as he poured some into a small ceramic bowl, then he filled a mug with homemade wine.

Andrei tsked. “You stood up to the Elk, you’ve earned my story.” He passed through the chair in front of me as if nothing. “I was an angry boy since I can remember. My mum never acted badly towards me. She always treated me nicely, I would say. But I was always wrecking something, or pulling a cat’s tail, or pranking her by placing a rat under her pillow. I just thought that by torturing lesser beings, I would pass the darkness to them.”

He was so nonchalant about it that I wanted to slap him. If I didn’t know there was a shimmer of goodness in him, I would have suggested that he hold hands with the Elk.

“There is nothing in this world that I do not despise more than a person who torments innocent beings, ghost!” My tone was harsh, forcing him to take a step back.

“I understand; that is why I feel better in death.”

His words made my mouth dry, and my hands started shaking. My thoughts flew to him, taking his own life. In my faith, if one were to commit something like this, they would not receive a sermon. They would just be buried, and that was it.

It was hard not to see the light of day when your mind was filled with dark voices. My mum thought about this once or twice, especially when my father would belittle my sister or me. She would not see the end of the tunnel; she would not see her daughters.

Angelica and I had to drag her to church in the middle of the night, without our father knowing. Just to get her to talk to Priest Neagu.

My mum confessed about the plague in her mind, and the priest listened. He managed to steer her away from her devils.

“Did you…” I began, but he held his transparent hands in the air.

“One night, I dragged a goat from the field, blade in hand, hoping to leave its severed head by my mum’s bed.” He embraced himself, his bottom lip wobbling. “Inside me, I relished seeing my poor mum afraid of me. I liked that. But after I caught the goat, I released it.”

His eyes pinned me. “I didn’t want to do it anymore, but the voices in my head spoke louder and louder, and I didn’t know how to make them stop. And then the Goat Man appeared, and I begged him to take me.”

I closed my eyes, feeling remorse for the lost soul of Andrei. I tried to understand the turmoil inside him, and even if I did not have the same experience as him, I felt for him. Some souls and minds are lost, and without proper guidance, they would never find their place on this Earth.

“The Goat Man took me, and I watched as my mum grieved me. For a very long time, she sang doine in the field alone, staring at the sky.” He bristled, making a sound like a dog shaking its fur. “I can still hear the sorrowful chant…”

“Have you gone to her since your death?” I whispered, seeing stars behind my eyes.

“Sometimes, I roam my old home and watch as she just exists.”

My eyelids sprang open, and tears gathered in my eyes. “I am so sorry, Andrei. For everything you lived.”

He nodded. “You should not apologise. And as for my master, he is not that cruel. The Goat Man showed me mercy when I could no longer bear life.”

I gritted my teeth. “Someone who seems to do this for pleasure does not look merciful.”

His eyes snapped to me. “He is a tormented soul as well, Ana! He did horrible things, or at least they say, and now he is living his punishment.”

“And is that why the Goat treats us like dirt?”

We stayed quiet until I finished everything and drank the mug of wine.

“You call that brute a man?”

His brows furrowed. “Under that mask, Ana, he is still a man.”

That was frightening me. I would have rather seen him as a brute and not a man.

“How old is the Goat Man?” The question popped out of my mouth without even thinking.