Anom Inem in the Land of The Goddess

A Wound Under a Touch

Night under the toll bridge wasn't truly dark or quiet. The light from the mercury lamps on the road above slipped through the gaps in the concrete, creating long shadows that danced on the dusty ground. The roar of car tires hitting the asphalt joints sounded like constant drumbeats, vibrating the giant pillar structure that was Anom's lifeline.

Inside his shack, made only from stacked pallet wood and a plastic tarp roof, Anom sat cross-legged. A small oil lamp burned on top of an old biscuit tin, giving off a dim light that flickered every time the night wind blew through the cracks in the walls.

In front of him, three Plecostomus fish from his extra catch earlier that afternoon lay on a piece of plastic. Anom was getting ready to clean those fish. The kitchen knife he used was very old, its handle wrapped in rubber from an old tire, and its blade had been sharpened so many times on concrete edges that it had become very thin.

For him, these Plecostomus fish were savings. If he could clean and dry the meat properly, he could sell it as quality bait or mix it into animal feed on the outskirts of town.

Anom's hands moved very mechanically. He had done this thousands of times.

But tonight, his concentration was a little disturbed. His mind kept drifting to the change in quality of the fish he had caught since meeting Inem. He wondered if something was wrong with his brain, or if he was just experiencing a lucky streak that was too short.

While he was trying to skin the very hard back of the fish, the knife in his hand suddenly slipped. The Plecostomus scales were much more slippery and powerful than usual. The sharp knife blade stabbed into his left palm faster than he could react.

Anom flinched. He dropped the knife onto the plastic. At first, there was no pain, just a sharp, cold sensation in the middle of his palm. But a second later, a red line appeared and immediately widened. Thick, fresh blood started seeping out, flowing between his rough fingers.

"Damn it," Anom cursed softly.

He grabbed a dull piece of cloth he usually used to wipe sweat. He pressed hard on the wound, trying to stop the blood that was starting to drip onto the dirt floor. The cut felt deep...maybe down to the muscle layer.

A stinging, stabbing pain started spreading to his wrist. Anom gritted his teeth, trying to hold back a groan that was almost coming out of his mouth.

He kept pressing the cloth, but the blood didn't seem to want to stop. The dull cloth quickly turned dark red and soaked through. Anom started to feel a little dizzy. Maybe because he hadn't eaten enough, or maybe this wound was worse than he thought. Under the dim candlelight, the blood looked black, like the river water outside.

Suddenly, a shadow appeared at the doorway of his shack. Anom didn't need to look up to know who it was. The cold, silent smell of swamp mud immediately filled the small room.

Inem stood there, staring at Anom without any expression. Her clumped hair covered part of her face, but her clear eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

Inem stepped inside without asking permission.

She knelt in front of Anom and took his left hand. Inem's thin fingers touched Anom's wrist. Not just a touch...there was pressure, something spreading from her fingertips into Anom's skin.

The blood stopped.

Anom stared at his own palm. The cut was still open, but not a single drop of blood came out. The skin around it felt cold, like it had been frozen.

"It's starting to stop," Inem said. Her voice was thin. "Soon it will dry on its own."

She didn't let go of Anom's hand.

Her fingers were still wrapped around Anom's wrist. Her thumb was still pressed against the wound. Anom could feel his own heartbeat getting a little faster than usual.

"Inem..."

The woman looked up slightly.

Her eyes were clear, Anom thought. Too clear for a place this ugly. Anom saw the reflection of light in her pupils. No fear there. No disgust either. Just something strange about her. Like someone who hadn't seen light in a long time, and had just found it in a place they never expected.

Inem didn't speak. She just moved closer. Now, Anom could smell her. Mud. Sewer water. But there was something else,e too. Like the smell of wet soil...like the first rain after a dry season. Strange. It made his head feel a little dizzy.

"Inem, you..."

"Don't talk too much."

Her voice was still thin, but a different tone than before. A tone that made Anom's stomach contract.

Inem let go of his hand.

For a moment, Anom felt a loss. That cold sensation disappeared, replaced by the damp night air. But before Anom could take a breath, Inem moved even closer. Her face was only a hand's width from Anom's face.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Inem asked.

Anom shook his head. "Why would I be afraid?"

Inem stared at him a little longer. Then she smiled. A small smile that made her dirty face look different. Something that made Anom unable to look away.

"Because other people are always afraid."

Anom didn't know what she meant. But he didn't care.

Suddenly, his hand moved on its own. His rough fingers touched Inem's cheek. Her skin was cold. Smooth. A contrast to the dirt stuck there. Inem didn't pull away. She even closed her eyes, like she was enjoying the touch.

"Why is your face so cold?" Anom whispered.

"Always cold."

"Since when?"

"Since..." Inem opened her eyes. There was something bitter there. "A long time."

Anom didn't ask further. He pulled Inem closer. Her body felt light to him...too light. Like there was nothing inside. He could even feel her ribs under the ragged cloth stuck to her body.

"Inem."

"Hmm?"

"I've... never."

Inem opened her eyes. She looked at Anom. No mockery there. No fake surprise either. She just stared, then slowly nodded.

"Me neither," she whispered.

Anom blinked. "Never?"

Inem shook her head slowly. "Not like that. I mean... I haven't felt anything in a long time."

Anom didn't understand. But he didn't want to ask. He just wanted to keep feeling Inem's fingertips on his cheek. Cold. Soft.

Suddenly.

Inem kissed him.

Her first kiss was cold. Her lips were like ice slowly melting on Anom's lips. Anom didn't know what to do. He really had never had an experience like this. He just stayed still, letting Inem's lips move on his. Slowly.

Then, slowly, he kissed back.

He didn't know how. His lips felt stiff, his movements awkward. But Inem didn't pull away. She let Anom learn. Little by little.

Anom's tongue touched Inem's tongue. A soft coldness. Anom shivered. But he didn't pull away. He pulled Inem even closer. His hand...the one he thought was still bleeding...reached for Inem's waist. Her waist was thin, her bones felt under the ragged cloth.

Inem sighed. The breath from her nose became warmer, a contrast to her cold lips.

Anom broke the kiss. His chest was rising and falling. His face felt hot.

"I don't know how to do this," he whispered. Honestly.

Inem looked at him. Her eyes were clear. "It's okay. Just take it slow, Anom."

Inem held his hand. Guided it to the cloth covering her body. Anom pulled it slowly. His hands were shaking.

The cloth came off.