Unfortunately, in the aftermath of losing immortal heroes, life demanded that Jus carry on. Although this seemed impossible at times, it was required. In those days, there was still a chemical escape to deal with or not deal with, whatever he chose.
He did not think too far into the future. Shortly up ahead, that road was contained in a thick fog, and seeing beyond that was not permitted. Jus did not care. A tremendous pressure had been lifted, and living the life of a transient was much more like a home than anything else.
Since he had left Ann's Island, nothing felt like home to Jus unless he slept in the place that made him feel like he could be returning at any moment. Not long ago, he met Dexter, who was proficient at tempting him with a rich lifestyle he never thought he could have. He was cunning and convincing. Slowly, Jus changed his image; he dared to dream what that life could be like. Being what the status quo thought was upstanding and respectful felt good. Especially after the tornado that flung everything he owned everywhere in the past few months.
That continued in this new life. Maarja, who let him think he was making the decisions, allowed this to continue, but at any moment, she would cut it off like only she could. As the days got warmer, everything seemed to be getting better. But an unplanned journey came up, and of course, Jus was always up for something like that.
It is still amazing how he could take great journeys with no resources and somehow win. Not that this was not tense and scary at times, but it was still remarkable. This journey became the mold for many to come. His expediency, tenacity, and resourcefulness were all exercised in exquisite ways.
It was a strange journey as well. The people had dynamics that Jus did not understand. Maarja appeared injured and retreated with whatever she had, lying in a fetal position in the back of the room. It looked like one thing, but it was far worse. Jus, alone at the wheel, found the peace he always saw when he was alone.
Upon his return, Jus's tether broke. Here, he began to float. Last year, he had jumped from a burning piece of a shipwreck to another. He tried that again, but he kept falling into the water. He looked for numbness, and everyone turned against him as he did everything. He was used to Maarja allowing precision pain to be administered to him; that was normal. This was different. Behind eyes that seemed neutral, there was an elation in Jus's new pain level. What did he do? He did not know. It should have been obvious, but he could only think as far as Maarja wanted.
The seemingly random assaults increased. Something was missing—an outlet to inflict destruction, and now he was falling into that role. Something had changed, which only allowed him to damage himself even more. He had no purpose, and those who did not amount to anything lifted themselves into lofty dominance over him, coveting anything that was his, leaving him no integrity, wisdom, or self-respect.
In the light of day, gravity pushed hard down upon his head. All he could feel was shame, and there was nothing but disgust around him. He was mocked and ridiculed and treated as though he were a homeless vagabond. Not a word could come out of his mouth correctly. He was nothing.
There is an old saying: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." If not for an ancient, twisted history that Jus would never want to know about, releasing an explosion in the compound, he would not have made it out alive. Because it was the only card Maarja had left, she pulled back on the subliminal torture she was applying and quietly looked to Jus to pull something off.
He did what he did best. He rushed through the house, as if a meteor were entering the atmosphere, and headed straight for them. He grabbed the belongings that seemed essential to them in seconds. The wagon was already moving, and he jumped on board as it escaped. The villagers were raging behind them, shooting flaming arrows at them. They always thought they could bury them beneath their communal meeting place. But today, Jus and Maarja were escaping. The villagers would need to tear someone else apart.
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