Time passed, a year, maybe a little more. At that age, seasons matter more than calendars.
I remember above all the changes, the looks, the silences and the strange sensation that something was approaching. Something I didn't understand yet.
Maeva was 14 years old. In our community, it wasn't a birthday like any other. It was adulthood, the age when we stopped being a child, the age when Ella revealed the secret.
Traditionally, no one would learn the truth before that day. Elders could die, men disappear, children ask all the questions of the world, no one answered. We were waiting for the fourteen years.
Then we learned.
I remember the morning of Maeva's birthday. The sky was covered. A cold wind descended from the mountains, even the animals seemed nervous.
Ella came to pick up Maeva after dinner, as she had done before for all the women in the camp. No one followed them, no one tried to listen. It was a tradition, a rule even older than the memories of the ancients.
Maeva left. I've been waiting all day for her to come back. When she finally came back, the sun was almost down. I immediately realized something was wrong. Her face was pale, her eyes red, but she didn't seem to have cried, not recently. It was worse.
It looked like someone who had cried for a lifetime and simply had no strength.
I remember she came to sit next to me without saying a word, without even looking at me. The silence had become so heavy that I had a stomachache.
Then I looked up and saw Rodrigo standing away from the camp. He looked in our direction, motionless, as if he was waiting for something.
I decided to go talk to him. I wanted to understand.
I wanted to know what Ella told Maeva. I wanted to know why my sister suddenly seemed older than all of us.
When I came to his height, I remember Rodrigo speaking one word. Same word as the first time.
— Kamino.
My heart will tighten immediately.
- What does that mean?
He didn't answer. Instead, he asked me to follow him. I did it, probably because I trusted him, maybe because I was curious. Maybe because I was scared. Maybe because part of me's been looking for answers since that famous night.
We left the camp. We crossed the hills, then we arrived at the edge of the Darro.
Always the same place, always the same river, always the same feeling, as if the world changed slightly when we approached its shores.
The night fell, the wind made the trees rustle and Rodrigo seemed nervous. He walked, stopped, left.
Like a man who was no longer really in control of his actions.
Then, suddenly, I remember he started talking. Not to me, to himself or to something that my eyes didn't perceive.
- I don't want to.
"This is not my destiny.
- I'm free.
"Leave us!"
His voice trembled. I've never seen him like this before. I'm approaching.
Worried.
- Rodrigo?
He suddenly turned around. His eyes were filled with tears. I thought it was going to collapse.
In my memory, I remember reaching out to him to calm him down, comfort him, to try to understand, but he pushed me away. A first time, then a second. He kept crying.
I remember, at this very moment, hearing the water behind me, the wind, but also something else. Like a murmuring, then several voices, far away, and others very close.
That's when Rodrigo fell on his knees before raising his head. In a fraction of a second, I saw that his face had changed. Or maybe it was the light, maybe a game of shadows, but I remember mostly seeing a forced smile appear that wasn't his.
The same smile, the one of the silhouette, the one seen years ago on the other bank. I remember having retreated, terrified, and that's where everything turned.
My last clear memory is that I fell to the ground without knowing how. I only remember this horrible impression, as if my body no longer obeyed me, as if I had no will, as if something else were deciding in my place.
Rodrigo was always crying, even as he approached, even when he undressed me, even when he touched me. I felt his tears, even when he did to me what no man had ever done to me, when I couldn't even fight. I remember her apologies all along, her broken voice asking for forgiveness.
I remember my own confusion, because what destroyed me most wasn't just what happened, it was not knowing where my will started and where it stopped. When all was finished, he retreated, as horrified by himself. Then he fled, running, without turning around, while I remained alone, motionless, realizing what had happened to me.
I've been there a long time. The sky had become black. I looked at the stars, the trees, the river, because everywhere around me, I felt like I was dancing dozens of silhouettes, maybe hundreds, shadows that appeared and disappeared into the darkness.
I don't know if they existed. I still don't know. I only know that I saw them and that that night, for the first time, I was really afraid to go crazy.
Even if I had nothing to do with what happened to me, I was ashamed and I didn't dare return to the camp that night or the next day. I remained hidden in the hills, surviving as I could.
I was trying to understand what had just happened, to try to find out if Rodrigo had deliberately harmed me or if something even older had used him to attack me and my innocence.
For three days I lived alone, and hunger eventually prevailed over fear and shame. I went back to the camp, unaware of the fact that, during my absence, everything had already begun to collapse.