Both versions of Jason sat soaked on the bench, rain pouring down on them. The artificial sun had disappeared completely, replaced by depressing clouds that hung low and heavy and salty rain. They exchanged looks across the weathered wood. One of them knew all the answers. The other had all the questions but was too afraid to ask them. Little Jason's eyes held something adult Jason had forgotten clarity, maybe, or just the kind of honesty that comes before you learn to lie to yourself. Adult Jason looked away first.
"You look like a walking corpse," said little Jason.
"Is that so?" Jason replied, his voice flat.
"Yeah."
A long silence stretched between them. The rain kept falling, steady and cold.
"Where's your umbrella?" little Jason asked eventually.
Jason thought for a moment. He wasn't even sure why he was still talking to the kid. This was most probably another entity, another trick designed to make his redemption harder than it needed to be. Another test he'd inevitably fail.
"I don't need an umbrella," he said finally. "The rain feels nice for a change."
Little Jason tilted his head, studying him. "You're lying."
"What?"
"The rain doesn't feel nice. You're just pretending it does because you think that's what you're supposed to say. Like it's punishment or something and you have to act like you deserve it."
Jason felt his jaw tighten. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"but i do" replied the kid
Another uncomfortable silence settled between them. Jason shifted on the bench, water dripping from his hair.
"I wonder where everyone vanished to," he said, trying to break the tension.
"Their homes, probably," the kid said with a shrug.
"What about our home?"
Little Jason stayed quiet for a moment, kicking his feet slower now. "There is no home for us. For people like us, rain and regret is all we have." He paused, then looked directly at Adult Jason. "People who wear their sins like badges. Who show them off like trophies instead of burying them where they belong."
"I buried mine. That's why I'm here to fix certain things," Jason said, defensive.
"No, you're here to be judged. Maybe to kill the guilt, since that's apparently the only thing that bothers you in life." The kid's tone was mocking. Jason stayed silent. He knew it was true. He was mature enough now or broken enough to finally admit it.
"That scar. Does it hurt?" The kid pointed toward Jason's neck.
"Oh, this?" Jason touched it instinctively, fingers tracing the raised skin. "I don't know where I got it from."
"It's the reason you ended up here."
"Yeah, but how did I get it?"
Little Jason looked away, watching the rain fall in sheets that never seemed to hit the ground quite right. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. For the first time, he sounded uncertain. Almost afraid. "I just know it matters. More than you think it does."
Jason's hand stayed on his neck, feeling the scar pulse with that same burning sensation. Like a brand. Like a signature written in pain.
"What do you mean you're not sure? You're supposed to know everything, right? Isn't that how this works?"
The kid shook his head. "I know what you know. And you don't remember getting it. So neither do I." He kicked at the bench leg. "But it's important. I can feel it which sucks by the way"
Jason asked no further questions. He just sat there, letting the rain soak through him completely. "This place isn't so bad after all," he said, though he couldn't tell if it was the truth or just some sort of coping mechanism his brain had thrown up to keep him from breaking down completely.The kid stayed silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Just sitting there beside him, small and still, like a mirror that refused to show anything Jason wanted to see , the rain kept falling. The park stayed empty. And for a while, neither of them said anything at all.
"Are you staying here forever?" the kid asked.
"I want to leave, but I have no direction. And the horse..." Jason trailed off, frowning. "What do you know about that horse? One moment he's here, the next he's gone. Come to think of it, I didn't even give him a name."The kid stayed quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you think maybe not giving him a name makes him sad?" ,"He's an animal. I don't think a name matters that much to him." Jason waved a hand dismissively.
"You keep dismissing everything." The kid's voice had an edge now. "Every problem, every question. No wonder this place won't let you go. You refuse to learn."Jason turned to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The horse isn't just a horse. Nothing here is just what it looks like. But you keep treating everything like it doesn't matter because it's easier than actually paying attention." This caught Jason off guard.
Jason couldn't quite comprehend the horse's quiet loyalty. By now, he was convinced of his own moral failure,so why did the animal remain so attached ?
"I have to go," the kid said quietly."Vanishing too?" Jason asked, voice strained. "Can you at least tell me where I'm supposed to go?What's going to happen next?"
The kid stood in silence for a moment, eyes distant, before replying with a sharp edge: "I'm not here to guide you. I'm just as lost as you are. Fight for your own answer."He paused, then added more solemnly, "As long as you keep asking questions, it means there's still more to learn. Only when you know it all will this place release you. and with that, he dissolved into dust, and the wind carried him away.
Jason hadn't expected much from him, so the boy's final words didn't leave much of a mark. That kind of cryptic farewell had become routine just another riddle in a place full of them. Since waking up here, every encounter felt like a half-truth wrapped in mystery, and this one was no different.
Then came the sound.
A bell,low, resonant, and distant cut through the stillness like a memory trying to surface. It echoed across the landscape, too far to place but impossible to ignore. A church bell? A school bell? He couldn't tell. It didn't matter. Something about it stirred him, pulled at him with quiet urgency, he turned, scanning the horizon for the horse. Nothing. Jason hesitated for a breath, then started walking toward the sound. He didn't look back. Not once. Whatever waited ahead, he'd face it alone.