You wake with the taste of iron on your tongue, the metallic tang of old blood and new fear mixed together in the back of your throat, and the first thing you know is that the window is open, and the wind is howling in, carrying with it the scent of wet wool and the distinct, cloying perfume of the night-blooming cereus that grows wild along the riverbank, a plant that only opens its pale, waxy petals for a single night before it withers and rots, and you have spent the last decade of your life watching it bloom, year after year, waiting for the scent to tell you that you have been forgiven, that the machinery of the state has finally ground down to a halt, that the justice you sought has arrived, not as a thunderclap, but as a quiet, inevitable decay of the things that held you captive, and you sit up in the narrow bed, the straw ticking beneath the sheets, and you look out into the dark, where the town of Ashwick lies huddled under its blanket of fog, the spires of the church and the clock tower of the magistrate’s house standing out like black teeth against the grey sky, and you remember the face of the man who betrayed you, not with hatred, but with a strange, detached clarity, as if you were studying a specimen under a glass, for you have learned that hatred is a luxury you can no longer afford, and you dress slowly, pulling on your threadbare coat, the buttons worn smooth by your anxious fingers, and you step out into the street, the cobblestones slick with dew, and you walk toward the river, where the bridge is guarded by two men in heavy cloaks, their faces hidden by the hoods, their breath pluming in the cold air, and you know that if you speak to them, if you ask them for passage, they will laugh, and then they will call for the watch, and you will be taken back to the tower, where the walls are thick and the windows are small and the silence is so heavy it presses against your eardrums, and so you do not speak, you do not ask, you simply walk, your footsteps silent on the wet stone, and you think of the cereus, how it pushes through the soil with a violence that seems almost obscene, how it blooms in the dead of night when no one is watching, how it gives itself entirely to the act of opening, knowing that it will die before the sun rises, and you think that this is what you have been trying to do, to open yourself to the truth, to let the rot in, to let the machinery break you, and you reach the bridge, and the guards do not see you, for they are looking at the river, at the black water rushing below, and you step onto the planks, and they are rotten, and you feel them give way under your weight, and you lunge, and you catch the edge, and you hang there, swinging over the abyss, and you hear the guards shout, and you hear the clatter of boots, and you think, this is it, this is the end, this is the justice that comes not for you, but for the river, and you pull yourself up, and you run, and you run until your lungs burn and your legs give out, and you fall into the ditch on the far side of the bridge, and you lie there, in the mud, and you watch the sky lighten, and you see the sun rise over the town, and it is beautiful, and it is terrible, and you know that you are free, and you know that you are alone, and you know that the cereus is blooming in the garden of the magistrate’s house, and that no one is watching, and that it will die before the day is out, and you smile, and you close your eyes, and you wait for the men to find you, and you think, let them come, let them take me, let them put me in the tower, let them lock the door, for I have already left, I have already crossed, I am no longer the man who stood before them, I am the man who hung over the water, I am the man who ran, I am the man who is gone, and you hear the sound of footsteps on the dirt, and you know it is him, it is the man who betrayed you, and you do not open your eyes, you do not move, you simply breathe, and he stops in front of you, and he says, you thought you could outlast us, but you forgot that we are the ones who build the walls, and you say, I didn’t think I could outlast you, I thought I could outlast the wall, and he laughs, a dry, brittle sound, and he says, there is no wall, there is only the river, and you say, the river is just water, and he says, the river is the law, and you say, the law is just a story we tell ourselves to keep the dark at bay, and he says, and who are you to judge the story, and you say, I am the one who told it, and he goes silent, and you see his hand tremble, and you see the fear in his eyes, and you know that he is not the monster you thought he was, he is just a man, a man who is afraid of the dark, a man who is afraid of the water, a man who is afraid of the truth, and you say, you don’t have to be afraid, and he says, what do you mean, and you say, I mean that it’s over, the story is over, the wall is down, the river is just water, and he says, you’re mad, and you say, maybe, but I’m free, and he says, you’re dead, and you say, not yet, and he says, you will be, and you say, let me be, and he turns and walks away, and you watch him go, and you see him disappear into the fog, and you sit up, and you look at your hands, and they are clean, and you look at the sky, and it is blue, and you stand up, and you walk toward the town, and you know that you will not go back to the tower, you know that you will not ask for justice, you know that you will simply live, and you know that the cereus is blooming, and you know that it will die, and you know that you are the one who is blooming, and you know that you are the one who is dying, and you smile, and you walk, and you do not look back.

The sound of the river is in your ears, a constant, rushing hum, like the voice of the earth itself, speaking in a language you have forgotten, and you walk through the streets of Ashwick, and the people are waking up, and they are looking at you, and they are whispering, and they are pointing, and they are afraid, and you know that they are afraid of you, not because you are a criminal, but because you are a ghost, a ghost of the man who was taken away, a ghost of the man who was broken by the state, a ghost of the man who is now free, and you walk past the bakery, where the smell of bread is warm and sweet, and you walk past the church, where the bells are ringing, and you walk past the market square, where the merchants are setting up their stalls, and you walk past the magistrate’s house, where the cereus is blooming in the garden, and you stop, and you look at the flower, and you see that it is white, and it is perfect, and it is alone, and you think, this is what I was, I was the flower, I was the white, I was the perfect, I was the alone, and you think, and this is what I am now, I am the garden, I am the soil, I am the water, I am the light, and you think, and you are the one who is watching, and you are the one who is waiting, and you are the one who is dying, and you smile, and you walk on, and you do not look back, and you do not stop, and you do not speak, and you do not ask, and you do not beg, and you do not pray, and you do not hope, and you do not fear, and you do not remember, and you do not forget, and you are just here, and you are just now, and you are just this, and the sun rises, and the fog lifts, and the town wakes, and you walk, and you walk, and you walk.

There is a man who waits for you at the end of the street, a man with a face like stone, and he says, you should not be here, and you say, where else would I be, and he says, in the tower, and you say, the tower is empty, and he says, no, it is full, it is full of your silence, and you say, my silence is my freedom, and he says, your freedom is your death, and you say, maybe, but I would rather be dead and free than alive and caged, and he says, you are already dead, you have been dead for ten years, and you say, I am alive, I am here, I am breathing, and he says, you are a ghost, and you say, yes, I am a ghost, but I am a ghost who has crossed the river, and he says, there is no river, there is only the wall, and you say, the wall is in your head, and he says, the wall is in the law, and you say, the law is in the water, and he says, the water is in the dark, and you say, the dark is in the light, and he says, you are mad, and you say, yes, I am mad, but I am mad in a way that you are not, you are mad in a way that is quiet, you are mad in a way that is safe, you are mad in a way that is comfortable, and I am mad in a way that is loud, I am mad in a way that is dangerous, I am mad in a way that is free, and he says, you will be caught, and you say, let me be caught, and he says, you will be punished, and you say, let me be punished, and he says, you will be forgotten, and you say, let me be forgotten, and he says, why, and you say, because I am the cereus, and I bloom in the night, and I die in the day, and I am not for you, I am for the dark, I am for the water, I am for the silence, and I am for the truth, and he says, the truth is that you are a traitor, and you say, the truth is that you are a coward, and he says, I am a servant of the state, and you say, the state is a lie, and he says, the state is the law, and you say, the law is a cage, and he says, the cage is the wall, and you say, the wall is the river, and he says, the river is the end, and you say, the end is the beginning, and he says, you are going to hell, and you say, I have already been to hell, and I have already come back, and I have already seen the light, and I have already seen the dark, and I have already seen the truth, and I have already seen the lie, and I have already seen the wall, and I have already seen the river, and I have already seen the end, and I have already seen the beginning, and I have already seen the cereus, and I have already seen the night, and I have already seen the day, and I have already seen the silence, and I have already seen the sound, and I have already seen the light, and I have already seen the dark, and I have already seen the truth, and I have already seen the lie, and I have already seen the wall, and I have already seen the river, and I have already seen the end, and I have already seen the beginning, and I have already seen the cereus, and I have already seen the night, and I have already seen the day, and I have already seen the silence, and I have already seen the sound, and I am here, and I am now, and I am this, and the sun rises, and the fog lifts, and the town wakes, and you walk, and you walk, and you walk.