Flip the Coin [BL]-Chapter 117 - . Itching

A place where I am alone, where I don't get the possibility to act up and change the future, where I get water and food delivered—isn't this the ideal location?

Maybe a hospital would be better, but I suspect that the wounds on me aren't something that can be treated. I think what came with me from the 'future', along with my consciousness, were the pain, the injuries, and the ability to heal.

Naturally, I could wait until I got better and conjure up a key to leave the cell.... well, wait—I can not. With the coin's disappearance, my ability to conjure something up was gone as well.

Anyway, what I wanted to say was, even if I could, I wouldn't do so.

I don't know what had possessed me when I was a child and made me draw the woman and these many, many hands that covered her senses, if she was there all along, and had granted me my ability, or if it really was just the grotesque symbol of a catalyst my crazy brain came up with.

But until now, each and every time, the woman had guided me with her eerie antics.

This ability felt like a close friend, leading me, helping me, and I would feel as if I betrayed it, if I purposefully worked against it.

When I was a child and my mother died, perhaps there was a reason to why I could not stop it—why I was just forced to look on.

Kenny2 had both of his parents, probably—I haven't seen his dad—but what did he become nevertheless? He became garbage.

Interesting is also that awareness is the key, link and whatever, while the woman of the coin is actively shielding her senses, choosing not to be aware until I flipped the coin, until I actively sought awareness from it.

This reminds me of Emilia, the one that had reached out to our Henrietta first to prevent exactly what now had taken place.

She said something similar to 'the power of awareness brought the responsibility to feign obliviousness'.

I kinda like this sentence, I really do.

And Henriettabitch went on and did the exact opposite—what an asshole.

Anyway, on the seventh (?) day or so, I felt better inside my cell and crawled to the food, only rupturing my stomach cut and neck cut. Luckily, after eating and drinking, and a bit of bleeding, I felt better, and I even managed to make it back to my mattress.

I also tried to crawl to the toilet once, but ended up pissing myself in the process because I couldn't stand up. So that was that.

A really uncomfortable feeling, if even the simplest shit doesn't work out, but after two minutes, my pee had disappeared, and I had a fit of laughter at how convenient this was, aggravating my wounds again.

The rest of the time I thought about how to kill Henrietta, or how to help my doggy, or I thought if it wouldn't be better to just kill myself and get it over with.

But the eerie woman with the hands—or just my ability—had taken such fantastic ways to keep me alive, so how could I throw it away?

And what about the old dragon? Without someone to care for her, she would just let monsters suffocate her to death.

I also noted that I had to look out for every future blackout and the times I couldn't remember because they could be foreshadowing some fatal wounds in the far-ahead future. Though, not getting further blackouts didn't mean I would be safe; rather, I could just die for real next time instead of going back to the past to heal.

I thought a fucking lot of some ways to salvage the whole apocalypse, but holy shit, I am clueless. Would everything just stop if we didn't kill Henrietta, but instead made her powerful as fuck, before forcing her to close each and every portal that shows up?

The vision of myself as a chief and Ethan, my attorney, had shown me that we would visit worlds to crush counterparts—well, at least one.

(By the way, though I have meanwhile a suspicion as to who the Vice Chief was, which Ethan talked about, I chose to ignore it.)

If this vision, years in the future, was true, then does that mean that I had killed Henrietta and the possibility to get her to close portals was lost? Or had she just not played along?

Why am I even thinking about this? Is that my fucking problem? Am I the fucking president, or the admiral of some national security team?

In the end, I opted for a new plan. I will disable Henrietta, on how, I haven't decided yet, but preferably in a way she could never again lift a stone or swing a baseball bat.

Then we'll get my doggy and kill the shadow somehow.

Then, Henry and I go and hunt down the shadows that had come into the trash world. At the end, when we are finished, we'll wait for the second portal to open, and return to our world.

All said and done, my concerns will be solved, and I'll throw Henrietta at the military and tell them about her ability. If they aren't brain-dead, they will find a way to either cut her open, dice her, or just torture her until she submits.

Anyway, the rest isn't my problem and shouldn't be, when I am just FUCKING SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD.

Yeah, did I go crazy for burdening myself with so many difficult decisions?

Why should I do that? Had I really gone mad because of this damn male lead syndrome that was popping up at random?

My new plan sounds like a fucking good plan, if you ask me.

Can't wait to execute it.

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

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After what could have been nearly two weeks—I had no feeling of time in here—I was healed enough to stand up, use the toilet, and eat my fill.

Ready to go back anytime, ready to get my hands on Henrietta.

Not only ready, I am fucking itching.