I opened my eyes. I was in a wooden box, sitting on a little bench. This is when it began, really. I was facing a small latticed window, but it was pitch black on the other side. I pushed around the walls of my confinement. There was no give, as if it were built around me. “Where am I?” I recalled nothing of how I got there. It was like a chunk of my memory was missing.
“Tell us your sins, our child.” I startled, throwing myself to the furthest wall from the where the voice sounded. “Tell us your sins so you may be forgiven.” It sounded as if multiple voices were overlapping each other, speaking at once. Crackly like the roar of a crowd.
“Who are you? Where am I?” I demanded, kicking the wall with the lattice. It’s then I realized my lack of shoes. I felt around my clothing for anything, a phone, a pocket knife maybe. Instead I was greeted with a plain white robe. “What did you do to my clothes?”
“Tell us your sins, our child.” The voices crackled out again, this time louder. “Tell us your sins so you may be forgiven.” I couldn’t breathe in this damn box. The tiny light bulb above me was a heater. I began throwing myself into the walls of the booth again, begging for some give.
“Who locks someone in a fucking confessional?” I griped, shouldering the wall relentlessly. The light above me began flickering. I threw myself back down, pushing myself into the far right corner, glaring at the blackness. I tried catching my breath but claustrophobia set in quickly.
“You are not trapped. Simply waiting. A decision must be made.” As they spoke, something glinted in the dark. The whites of two eyeballs with pitch black iris staring down at me through the lattice. There were no eyelids obscuring them, just very prominent blood vessels creeping at the edges. “Tell us your sins, our child.” My ears could separate a handful of voices from the rest as they were startlingly different. Very girlish, squeaky voices, the same volume as the rest but petulant. Still, the eyes never blinked and no mouth seemed to move.
“I’m not telling you shit.” I spat, pushing further into the corner. The eyes disappeared.
“Your time is very little.” Instead of the clusterfuck of voices, only two sounded. Little boys, no older than six or seven, excitedly exclaimed. Then, all the voices returned. “Tell us your sins, our child.”
“Eat shit.”
“A decision must be made, and your time is very little. Tell us, what do you wish to be forgiven for?” They sounded more desperate, almost, more insistent. Another voice reigned over the rest, wracked with sobs. I inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled slowly. Talking floating eyeballs. Perchance this was a psychotic break. I was almost relieved with this train of thought. If this was something mental, then I could ride it out till it receded.
“If I tell you, will you let me go?” The eyes appeared again, this time smaller as if they were leaning against the furthest wall.
“Tell me your sins, my child, so you may be forgiven. A decision must be made, and your time is very little.” This time, only one voice spoke. A girl’s voice still in puberty.
“Ya, so you’ve said. But will you let me go?” I stressed, hesitantly sliding to the bench. The voices paused, then the eyes moved up and down as if the head containing them was nodding. “Ok then. So, I uh-”
“Kneel. You must kneel as you confess.” The chorus returned. Hesitantly I moved to my knees, kneeling on the bench. This put me face to face with the darkness, only the lattice kept us separated.
“Ok. Ok, so, I-” The eyes moved, halting me. They were perfectly level with my sight. From there I could see the vessels pulsating as they stretched closer to the center.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The voices stated. I leaned back a bit, deeply unsettled by the course of the conversation.
“Is this like…ew, this isn’t like a kink thing is it?” As I said this I will admit, my heart began racing, not in a good way. In an “awe shit they’re a pervert” way. As I spoke other things began coming to mind. The weird voice, it could’ve been a modulator. The eyes were some kind of trick I couldn’t yet understand. All these logical conclusions racing through my mind, none of which comforting.
“A decision must be made. Your time is very little. We cannot entertain questions if we are to decide.” The preteen girl’s voice sounded with a teenage boy’s. All the voices this guy, gal, person, chose were young.
“Decide what though? Decide if I believe in God? Welp, I don’t. Decide if I’m gonna go to heaven or get kicked to hell? Send me down then. What are we deciding?”
The walls around me began shaking. The light above me flickered relentlessly. Then, the wall to my right made a cracking sound, followed by its immediate disappearance. A long red curtain took it’s place. I sprung to my feet, staring at the curtain, my legs shaking. By all means I should had run, but something kept me still. Slowly, instead, I reached forward, the tips of my finger brushing the fabric. I could hear something behind it, something…wet. Something organic. The way raw meat sounded between teeth. Heavy breathing mixed with a snarl mingled in. I looked back to Father Eyeballs and their little box of evil. Still they sat staring at me, encouraging me forward.
With shaking fingers I nudged the curtain just enough to peek through a sliver. What I saw was worse than what the sounds suggested.
I threw myself back, away from the curtain, away from the sight beyond it. Tripping over the bench I found myself once again in the corner, my new favorite spot. My eyes had flickered down. Red splattered inside the ankle high gap between the curtain and the floor, staining the bottom of my gown. From there I could also see where the wooden floor ended and the…meat…floor? Flesh? Began.
“A decision must be made. If you do not wish to join the Cells, you must be forgiven.” It took a moment to force my eyes back to Father Eyeballs.
“Cells? That’s what you call those things?”
“They are not things. They were human.”
“They are eating each other.”
“Their existence is pain. They ingest so they may leave their consciousness until they grow back. A momentary reprieve from the torment of their being. A constant cycle of rebirth and regurgitation. Their consumption of the other is kindness. The only act of empathy they have left is to devour, and hope when their brethren regenerates they will return the favor.”
“Their bodies. What happened to their skin? A-and their organs. Their organs are growing in the wrong spots.” Bile rose in my throat as I said those things. The blood coming from outside was becoming a puddle.
“There is no need for vanity, nor requirement for something their innards can hide behind. They have been stripped completely of their earthly selves. This state is their penance.”
“Penance? I-No. Fuck this, I. I don’t believe in hell.” Hysteria clawed at my chest and acid tore at my stomach lining. “Oh God, Oh God am I dead?” My hands clasped my mouth as I began to gag.
“Another, calling this ‘hell’.” The voices murmured, as if among each other. “One does not have to believe in something for it to exist, Helena. Though, we will say…” The light flickered, the walls shook, bam there was the wall. It was a strange relief to be locked inside again. It was painfully quiet without the white noise of wailing and slurping. The only sign it had happened was the blood still pooled at my feet. “Your preconceptions have done you no favors.” A new voice stated that, the oldest one yet. A late teenage male. He said it as if he were holding in a laugh.
“Then what the fuck am I here for!” I threw myself at the lattice, slamming my hands into it. “What do you want from me, asshole!” My voice was hoarse by the last syllable. Silence followed. I heaved in heavy breaths and stared into the darkness, Father Eyeballs nowhere to be seen. My shoulders slumped and with gritted teeth I began sliding to my knees. Adjusting my robe, I was once again kneeling on the bench, blood soaking through my garment. With a deep sigh, I bowed my head. “Fine…Forgive me…father…for I have sinned.” The eyes resumed their position, staring into my soul.
“Tell us your sins, our child. Tell us your sins so you may be forgiven.” I rolled my head, popping my neck. Stalling. I was stalling. “A decision must be made. Your time is very little.” Suppressing an eyeroll, I began.
“I suppose, by some people’s standards, I’m not the ‘easiest’ person. I…I guess I have some issues.” It was of course the moment I began that I had forgotten everything I had ever done.
“Continue, my child.” A new voice sounded, an older teenage girl’s.
“I. I guess things have just been, well, rough. Lately. Often. For a while now.”
“What things have been difficult?” Father Eyeballs nudged me along. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was a floodgate that wanted to open. A gate that was locked the moment it was constructed, but this bastard had a magic key. My mind felt in pieces.
“Everything.” I huffed a laugh. Chewing the dry skin on my lips I thought about what they might want to hear. “Just. Everything, man.”
“Are most of your conflicts internal?”
“I suppose you could say that. I guess you could say I’ve been dealing with some mental health stuff. The basics. Depression, anxiety, what have you. Sleeping’s been hard. I thought I was confessing?”
“You’re doing good. Keep going.” The little girl voices from earlier had returned, excitement and pure encouragement dripping from their words.
“I guess I’ve been, well. What the therapists say ‘self medicating’. Nothing crazy, just. Nothing great, either. I feel like my brain is decaying from it.” My voice shook as the words started pouring out. “I guess I’ve always had a, uh, what’s the word?” Father Eyeballs patiently waited. “Pre, pre-something. Disposition! A predisposition to alcoholism and substance abuse. I don’t know if I really, like, abuse them, but I have been using them more lately. Often.”
“Do these substances help you to accept yourself?” Father Eyeballs pondered. I barked out a laugh.
“Accept myself? Hell no. Numb myself?” At this I couldn’t help but glance at the walls, the “Cells” coming to mind. “Its just nice not to feel something for a while.” A quiet chorus of small voices hummed.
“Do you fear where your mind strays when you are not medicated?”
“‘Course I do. I already said I got some issues.” I couldn’t help but snap. “I mean…” I gestured around, showing that we were literally in a possible hallucination.
“What is it your mind lingers on?” I sat back on my haunches, staring into Father Eyeballs’ eyeballs. I reckoned I should had asked their name. They were my captor. They were also possibly God though, or the devil. What the hell did I know?
“Are you the devil?” I blurted out after that train of thought. The eyes didn’t show any reaction to this, though without a face I was unsure how they would.
“Would it be easier for you if we were?” The chorus asked, void of emotion. Not a single voice strayed from the others. “Would it be easier if we were evil?” Their voices flowed together like a freezing river. “Would it alleviate your pain if we were your enemy?”
“I don’t…understand. Is that a no?”
“Tell us your sins, our child, so you may be forgiven.” The confessional shook once again and silently I prayed to whatever could possibly rival Father Eyeballs that we weren’t returning to the flesh pit. The light flickered violently, and I had to close my eyes. A loud pop sounded and when I opened them I was submerged in pitch blackness. I could not see my hand lifted before me. The eyes, thankfully still obscured by criss-cross shadows, bored into me.
“I seem to had hit a nerve.” I could’ve given myself a black eye for that line. Even without a face I could see impatience in those beady, bloodshot eyes.
“What does your mind linger on, Helena?” I swallowed, my throat very dry. I tried to run a hand through my hair but my fingers caught on the matted tangles that had been there for months. My head began aching again, but then it never truly stopped. What have I got to lose?
“Death. How much I always yearned for it. How much it has always scared me.”
“What made you yearn for it?” A chorus of little girls asked, one older girl reigning over the others. I sat on this question for a minute. I was surprised how much time Father Eyeballs allocated considering how pressed we supposedly were for time. I thought of many things whilst I sat there. More things than I could’ve vocalized.
“The oblivion. The silence. I wanted it to be like sleeping.”
“What made you fear it?” That time it was little boys, one older boy sounding above their squeaky voices. Again I needed a moment. Another flood of thoughts overwhelming my system. I felt so cold.
“Like I said I’m not religious. I don’t really buy into the afterlife spiel.” I glanced again at the wall. “I know recent events suggest otherwise, but up till now I didn’t. I’m still not even sure this isn’t a psychotic break.” A small, boyish snort escaped from Father Eyeballs, but was quickly suppressed. “Anyway, I’ve always tried to be a realist. My parents, however. You know the type, southern white Christian. Real all American.”
“Your parents. Did you have respect for them as your elders?” The questions certainly prompted confusion, but my brain couldn’t keep up with all the confusing shit Father Eyeballs spewed. Along with confusion was discomfort. I will admit, my parents were a sore subject.
“Yes and no. I appreciate what they did to raise me, I guess. I just wouldn’t had done it the way they did.”
“When did you begin straying from them?” I felt my heart begin to race as I could foresee the trajectory.
“I guess around the time I hit puberty. You’re hormonal, you start thinking for yourself. Parents hate that.”
“Did your relationship with them become antagonistic?” The echoes of fights, painful words, shattered glass, and slamming doors screeched in my head. I simply nodded. “Did it improve.” I shook my head.
“They were both gone before it could.” I choked out. “I…I quit trying after one ugly fight when I was seventeen. That next day, I got a call. My mom was a grade school teacher. Someone…” I didn’t finish, and Father Eyeballs didn’t need me to. “Lost my dad about a year later to liver failure.”
“Upon facing your parents death, did you feel differently about them? How you perceived death?”
“I wanted to. I want to. I just. There’s just so much. Up until I was a teenager I would stay up late into the night, crying, praying, begging God for forgiveness. I was six years old repenting for whatever fucking sin a six year old can commit the way a convict begs the executioner on death row. I was terrified of God, and angry with my parents for making me terrified. Still, I feel so…so fucking guilty. Like, even though I was a kid, I could’ve tried harder. There were moments with them I certainly knew better.” I tried to will the burning behind my eyes away but the tears were insistent. Shaking, I wiped at my cheeks, extremely aware of the impenetrable gaze that bore into me.
“Do you believe children are capable of being guilty?” They asked, weight behind the words. I stared into the inky black pupils finding nothing.
“Guilty how?”
“If a child had the potential to grow into something evil, would you hold that child accountable?”
“The hell are you on about?”
“If a child were to one day be the harbinger of destruction, the herald of war and genocide, would you hold that child accountable and prevent their sins?” I wasn’t sure how to properly respond. I was beyond confused. I stared at the eyes and shook my head.
“What are you talking about, dude?”
“A decision must be made, and your time is very little.” The eyes rose above me, but still stared down. In that moment I felt terribly small. My skin felt tight. There, in absolute darkness, alone with this, this entity, playing verbal chess, and I was at a loss. The walls began shaking, and to my dread the sound of fabric rustling returned. Though, instead of the squelching, awful sounds of the “Cells” eating each other I could hear voices. Normal, happy voices. Looking at the curtain I saw warm light streaming in from below instead of blood. Then, a weight appeared around my neck. I reached up and felt a beaded necklace, ending in a cross. I looked up at Father Eyeballs. They never broke their gaze at me.
“That rosary will prevent you from being noticed. With that adorned, you can walk right in front of people and they will not register you are there.” Then, in my right hand, a very different weight appeared. I immediately recognized the hilt of a knife. “That dagger is what you must use to assist in preventing the extinction of humanity.” My brain took a moment to catch up to their words. When it finally did, I barked out a laugh, no longer caring about tact in the (nonexistent) face of a psychotic pair of eyeballs.
“I’m sorry, fucking what?! I literally just told you I have mommy, daddy, and substance issues. I cried at self check out the other day because it quit working and the associate was kinda rude about it. I am chemically wired to want to self destruct anytime I’m faced with a somewhat difficult task. Save the friggin’ world? Fuck you.” I ranted, at one point getting to my feet and pacing the small space. Blade waved through the air as my feet slipped around the coagulating puddle of blood.
“Helena. You must listen closely for there is truly little time.” The voices sounded almost apologetic but quickly corrected. “Upstairs in the first bedroom to the left there is a little girl. This little girl has a chance of becoming, what many refer to as, the anti Christ. If you wish to live on another day, to change the fate of your eternity, you must carry out this task.” I stood there, gawking like a fish, words unable to form. The dagger in my hand felt horribly heavy, so much so I dropped it. I stared at Father Eyeballs, waiting for a punch line. None came.
“I. Wait.” My voice started shaking and a cold sweat covered my body. “Wait. I. Hold on.” I wiped my face aggressively with my hands, taking in a shuddered breath. There wasn’t enough air in that confessional booth, not enough oxygen reaching my lungs. Releasing an unsatisfying rush of air, I tried again. “You want me.” Another breath. “To, what. To murder a sleeping kid? To murder a child? Or what, you’ll send me to hell?”
The sound of a woman laughing outside of the curtain shook me from my distress. “Dance with me, baby girl!” A man yelled. I could hear the smile in his tone. It killed me. Upbeat jazz music started and the laughter of two people dancing was the worst thing I had ever heard.
“You will be exterminating the possible cause of the end of the world. As a reward, you will go back to your life. A second chance to change your fate.”
“So my fate is to become a fucking Cell!” I wailed, my legs nearly giving. I tried choking down the sobs but everything was closing in.
“Helena, you can change this fate. With that dagger you can ascend back to your mortal body, cleansed of your previous life. You can prevent everything you know from ending completely, and your immortal soul’s eternal suffering. What do you decide?”
I shook where I stood, my teeth rattling together. My nails dug into the skin on my arm but I only felt cold. I hadn’t quite noticed that. How cold I had been the whole time. That box was scorching, my body sweat, but to the touch I was cold. I closed my eyes and breathed in sharply through my teeth, banging the back of my head against the wall. “Don’t make me do this.” I rasped.
“Its an impossible decision, truly. But it is one that must be made.”
“Can’t we shelve this for another, like, twenty years? If she’s goin’ round killing people and committing war crimes, then I’m your guy.” An ugly laugh that immediately turned into a sob left my mouth. I was running out of tears.
“Your time is very little. As we speak, your mortal body decays. If this happens, you will be subjected to infinite pain. Everything you’ve ever feared will come to fruition. You will exist in constant agony, devastation. You will never, ever, escape your hurt. The world may well soon follow. What is your decision?” I stared down where the blade glinted in the sliver of light. It lied, stained in blood already. The blood of those Cells, the blood of people trapped in eternal pain. A constant loop of searching for someone to dull their pain, even for a minute. Could I live like that? No. No that wouldn’t be living. I would be dead, and that would be me existing. All I had ever done was exist. Clenching my eyes closed, I leant down for the blade. “She is upstairs. The first door on the left.” This time the little girls sounded, but instead of their previous excitement, they were subdued. Morose, even. “Move with haste.”
The dagger burned my palm. My fingers stiffened as I tried to grasp it. Everything in me screamed against this. “I…I’ll be back.” I whispered. My feet stuck where I stood and I had the fleeting thought I’d ruin this nice family’s carpet.
With a shaking hand I pinched the curtain between my fingers, yanking it back like a band aid. Before me was a sight more devastating than the fleshy pile of agony.
A small living room adorned in rainbow streamers and unicorn decorations. Balloons littered the floor, and wrapping paper and toys posed hazard all the way to the narrow stairwell. I stepped further in, my filthy feet meeting soft, tan carpet. The walls were a cozy coffee color, and the kitchen splattered with sunflowers. A large, half eaten birthday cake sat in the center of the small, three seated dining table. The countertops were covered in dishes and food. The fridge covered in hand drawn pictured and graded homework. The music overwhelmed me, such a beautiful sound to drown out the wailing.
A handsome man held a beautiful woman as they spun around the table. Both were covered in pink frosting but neither cared. They were completely enraptured with the other, giggling like teenagers. The time on the stove read 11:45. “Shh, you’re gonna wake the baby.” The woman laughed, pressing her finger to her partner’s lips.
“You look too good for me to keep quiet.” He said, peppering her face in kisses.
“She’s had a long day, she needs some sleep!”
“And I need some love!” The two struggled to stifle their laughter. I felt like I could dig that dagger into my own throat. I wanted to, terribly. Swallowing another dry heave, I made my way up the stairs. Far too quickly I found the room. A door adorned with stickers, sparkly letters reading “Amaya’s Room”.
I reached for the door knob, paused, then looked back down at the blade. With a deep breath I grasped the knob, forcing myself to enter. The bedroom was exactly what I had anticipated, colorful, childlike, innocent. No red stringed cork board plotting the end of the world, no satanic summoning circles, nothing crazy. Just a little girl in her little canopy bed, safe and sound with her in love parents down stairs being in love. Everything a child could want and need. I squeezed the handle.
As I approached I could hear her little breaths. Her little voice beneath them. Her small frame was curled beneath Aladdin blankets, clinging onto a cat stuffy. I shouldn’t had looked at her. I should had barged in and done it. I set myself up for failure with hesitation.
Her cheeks were plump and smooth, her long eyelashes brushing the top of them. Her hair was in tight little curls, a small purple bonnet discarded in her little ravioli fist. Her Ariel nightlight flickered the longer I stared. I took it for what it was. Father Eyeball’s telling me to get on with it.
I took the hilt of the dagger in both hands, lifting it above my head. I heaved in breaths like I was drowning. The tears had dried long ago, I had nothing left to give. I had nothing left to do. I had nothing left.
My arms moved at their own volition. I was aiming for her head. I wanted it to be quick, as quick as possible. I couldn’t bear if she felt pain.
The blade came down.
I wasn’t strong enough to carry the weight of damnation. I couldn’t do it, not when I had barely lived.
I had so much to do still.
So much to experience.
So much.
Everything was always so much.
Throwing myself across the room I bolted down the stairs. The couple still danced happily. I stained their carpet but they would not yet notice.
I tore through the curtain, threw the dagger to the side, and collapsed in the confessional. No time was wasted locking me back inside. Stomach acid escaped my mouth, burning my esophagus. I hacked and spat as my hands clawed at my mangled hair.
“You have made your decision.” Father Eyeballs said. They sounded almost pleased. I didn’t dare look up at them. I remained curled in on myself, letting the darkness consume me.
“So this is it?” I rasped to the ground. “Are we done here?”
“What made you choose to do what you did?” The voices, why did they sound so damn pleased? I squeezed my eyes shut again, the image of her little body jolting flashing behind my eyelids.
“She sneezed.” I said simply, a hysterical laugh escaped with a heave. I laughed so hard my belly ached. Coughs wracked my frame. I touched my forehead to the disgusting floor, my body mustering enough moisture for one stray tear. “She fucking sneezed. Isn’t that pathetic?” When silence followed I risked a glance upwards. The eyes looked at me, and searching them I swear I saw fondness. Maybe I had gone mad.
“You saw value in her life, even though she has the potential to end others.” The voices flowed around me. They no longer held an ominous weight despite the knowledge of my destination.
“What person doesn’t?” When I said this, the box shook again, and the rustle of the curtains returned. Behind me streamed in bright, fluorescent light, followed by the sound of numerous rushing voices and beeping machines. I refused to turn around.
“A fair point to make.”
“How much of a chance does she have of killin’ everybody anyway?” I nearly demanded, I simply hadn’t the energy.
“Asking the correct questions, how rare.” The older teenage boy and girl both said. “She has a 0.01 chance of causing Armageddon.” Father Eyeballs stated like it was a fun fact about zebras.
“I…I almost killed a child…a baby, a little girl based on a one percent chance?” I was yelling by the end of that. I wanted nothing more than to go through that lattice and truly earn my spot in hell.
“And yet, you did not. Tomorrow, she will wake up, run into her parents bedroom, and they will still be free of the burdens your own heart carries. They will watch her grow, and they will pass happily, having all lived good lives. You ensured this.” The beeping grew louder, cold air wafting from beneath the curtain.
“And I will be a skinless abomination, forever canonicalizing other skinless abominations.” I stated, the fight and emotion leaving my body. All I wanted was to sleep. I hoped I would get eaten first.
“Nonsense, our child.” There was laughter in some of the voices. The eyes darted towards the curtain then back to me. “You did well. You put a stranger, a child, above your own eternity. All we ask is you remember this. You made the impossible decision and live your life with the knowledge that you have the agency to be good, and make things good.” I sat there, stupefied, waiting for the catch. None came. With weak, aching legs, I forced myself up. The wall supported most of my weight. I would almost miss it.
“Are you…are you for real right now?” I asked, just to be sure. A dark part of me feared opening the curtain would lead to something worse than the previous. A lighter part of me hoped Father Eyeballs was something better than what I had been led to believe.
“Go on. A decision has been made, and your time is very little.” They said. I moved to the curtain, more than ready to bolt. One thing kept me back though.
“One last question. If this is real, and you are, like, death or whatever…how many people have you made make this decision?” I turned back and the eyes were smaller, further in the corner of their side. They seemed hesitant to tell me. I ventured on, “You…you didn’t disagree earlier when I said everyone has the potential to kill. If she only had a one percent chance, then that means basically every kid has a one percent chance…I…” I clutched the curtain tightly, “…how many children have-“
“We implore you, Helena, not to ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Goodbye for now.” In a blink, the eyes were gone. I felt the presence leave, a greater presence than I had initially realized. The box felt immensely lonely, as if a whole party of people had just vanished. With a deep breath, I pulled back the veil.
***
When I had awoken I was in a hospital bed, as I had suspected. I hadn’t expected the handcuffs. Memories from the night before had come flooding back. The bar, the booze, the bridge. I had screwed up.
Eighteen months in jail lessened to ten with community service and court ordered NA meetings. No one was hurt but a couple of mailboxes, a bush, and some traffic cones took some major hits before the bridge. Pissing in cups weekly, begging for interviews, going through withdrawal. Sobriety was a bitch. Living was a bitch.
It was a privilege to do it, though.
I will never fully understand what happened to me, and in my heart I know many will not believe me. Brush it off as a drug induced hallucination or even a tall tale pulled out of my ass. What have you. If nothing else though, take away this. It may feel like it costs everything to care about a stranger’s life in the name of salvation, but with first hand experience I promise you it doesn’t. Things that feel more powerful than us lie too.