The bell tolled at noon.

I stopped.

My hands were red.

They were stained with the dye.

It was deep purple.

It soaked into the nails.

It reached the cuticles.

I looked at the basin.

The water was black.

I looked at the cloth.

It was white.

It would be white.

Soon.

I heard the footsteps.

They were heavy.

They were slow.

They came from the gate.

I did not turn.

I knew the weight of the boots.

I knew the pace of the man.

He was here.

He always came at noon.

The inspector.

His name was Alder.

He wore a gray coat.

It was clean.

It was always clean.

He stood by the door.

He did not speak.

I kept my head down.

I squeezed the cloth.

The liquid dripped.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

It hit the stone floor.

It made a small pool.

It was dark.

It was like blood.

But it was not blood.

It was ink.

It was the ink of the law.

I thought of my brother.

His name was Thomas.

He was young.

He was small.

He was gone.

He had been gone for three days.

The town was quiet.

The birds did not sing.

The dogs did not bark.

They watched.

They saw.

They knew.

I knew too.

I knew what I had done.

I knew why.

I did not care.

The door opened.

Alder stepped in.

The air changed.

It grew cold.

It grew heavy.

It smelled of rain.

It smelled of old stone.

He looked at my hands.

He looked at the basin.

He looked at me.

His face was blank.

It was a mask.

It was the face of the law.

It was the face of the town.

"Master," he said.

His voice was low.

It was soft.

It was like wind.

"Your brother is missing."

I nodded.

I did not look up.

"I know."

"Where is he?"

I did not answer.

I squeezed the cloth again.

The water ran over my wrists.

It was cold.

It burned.

"I know," I said.

Alder stepped closer.

He walked to the basin.

He bent down.

He looked at the water.

He picked up a strand.

He held it to the light.

It was clear.

It was pure.

He frowned.

He looked at me.

His eyes were hard.

They were like flint.

"You have dyed the cloth," he said.

"Yes."

"You have used the violet."

"Yes."

"It is illegal."

"Yes."

"It is a crime."

"Yes."

"Did you do it for him?"

I stopped.

My heart stopped.

The room was silent.

The dust motes danced.

They were gold.

They were alive.

I looked at him.

I saw the fear in his eyes.

It was small.

It was deep.

It was hidden.

But it was there.

He was afraid.

Of what?

Of the law?

Of the truth?

Of me?

I smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was sad.

It was real.

"No," I said.

He frowned.

His brow furrowed.

He leaned in.

His face was close.

I could smell his breath.

It was stale.

It was old.

"Then why?" he asked.

I did not answer.

I looked at the cloth.

It was drying.

It was stiff.

It was ready.

I thought of Thomas.

I thought of his face.

I thought of his laugh.

It was bright.

It was clear.

It was gone.

I had broken it.

I had broken the silence.

I had broken the peace.

I had done it for him.

I had done it for us.

I had done it for the truth.

The truth was ugly.

The truth was dark.

The truth was the dye.

It stained everything.

It stained the soul.

It stained the stone.

It would not wash out.

Alder straightened up.

He stepped back.

He looked at the door.

He looked at me.

He looked at the basin.

He made a decision.

I saw it in his eyes.

He was going to leave.

He was going to forget.

He was going to let me go.

Why?

I did not know.

I did not care.

I was free.

I was alone.

I was clean.

No.

I was dirty.

I was stained.

I was marked.

The mark was invisible.

But it was there.

It was on my hands.

It was on my heart.

It was on my brother.

It was on the town.

Alder turned.

He walked to the door.

He paused.

He did not turn back.

"Master," he said.

His voice was quiet.

It was almost a whisper.

"The cloth is beautiful."

I looked at him.

I did not move.

I did not speak.

I watched him leave.

His boots creaked.

They were heavy.

They were far.

They were gone.

The door closed.

The latch clicked.

It was soft.

It was final.

I was alone.

The room was quiet.

The sun was high.

The light was bright.

It fell on the basin.

It fell on the cloth.

It fell on my hands.

I looked at the water.

It was clear.

It was still.

It reflected the ceiling.

It reflected the light.

It reflected me.

I saw my face.

It was pale.

It was old.

It was tired.

I saw my eyes.

They were dark.

They were deep.

They were empty.

I reached for the cloth.

I held it up.

It was white.

It was perfect.

It was pure.

I looked at my hands.

They were red.

They were stained.

They were mine.

I thought of Thomas.

He was gone.

He was free.

He was clean.

I was not.

I was the stain.

I was the mark.

I was the sin.

I was the crime.

I was the clue.

The distant clue.

The one that mattered.

The one that stayed.

I folded the cloth.

I put it in the box.

I closed the lid.

I sat down.

I waited.

The bell tolled again.

It was one o'clock.

The day was short.

The night was long.

The truth was near.

The truth was here.

I was here.

I was waiting.

For what?

For the end.

For the dawn.

For the rain.

For the wash.

But the water would not come.

The rain would not fall.

The sky was clear.

The air was dry.

The dust was still.

The silence was deep.

I closed my eyes.

I felt the weight.

It was heavy.

It was real.

It was mine.

I accepted it.

I embraced it.

I wore it.

It was my skin.

It was my soul.

It was my life.

I was the prisoner.

I was the jailer.

I was the key.

I was the lock.

I was the door.

I was the wall.

I was the stone.

I was the silence.

I was the dye.

I was the stain.

I was the mark.

I was the truth.

I was the lie.

I was the end.

The bell tolled again.

It was two o'clock.

The day was gone.

The night was here.

The shadows grew.

The light faded.

The dark came.

It was soft.

It was gentle.

It was kind.

It was cold.

It was empty.

It was full.

I opened my eyes.

The room was dark.

The basin was black.

The cloth was white.

My hands were red.

I was alive.

I was here.

I was waiting.

The bell tolled again.

It was three o'clock.

The night was deep.

The town was asleep.

The birds were silent.

The dogs were quiet.

The wind was still.

The air was still.

My heart was still.

I was still.

I was gone.

I was here.

I was the stain.

The stain that remained.

The clue that stayed.

The mark that never faded.

The truth that never washed out.

I was the distant clue.

The one that mattered.

The one that lasted.

The one that bound.

The one that broke.

The one that healed.

The one that hurt.

The one that loved.

The one that died.

The one that lived.

I was Thomas.

I was myself.

I was the town.

I was the law.

I was the crime.

I was the punishment.

I was the mercy.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the whole.

I was the part.

I was the stain.

The stain that stayed.

The clue that remained.

The mark that never faded.

The truth that never washed out.

I was the distant clue.

The one that mattered.

The one that lasted.

The one that bound.

The one that broke.

The one that healed.

The one that hurt.

The one that loved.

The one that died.

The one that lived.

I was Thomas.

I was myself.

I was the town.

I was the law.

I was the crime.

I was the punishment.

I was the mercy.

I was the end.

I was the beginning.

I was the whole.

I was the part.

I was the stain.

The stain that stayed.

The clue that remained.

The mark that never faded.

The truth that never washed out.

I was the distant clue.

The one that mattered.

The one that lasted.

The one that bound.

The one that broke.

The one that healed.

The one that hurt.

The one that loved.

The one that died.

The one that lived.