“Son of a bitch!”
Johnathan’s car squealed and slowly came to a stop. He shouted and banged at the steering wheel, his curses muffled by the smoke-stained window.
He opened the door and stepped out. He kicked the tire.
Johnathan ran out of cigarettes a day and a half ago. He was in the middle of nowhere, following suspicious roads from one of his maps. Either he got lost, or the maps were drastically outdated. He ran out of gasoline far quicker than he expected. Oddly enough , he did not see a single gas station on his way.
Tall pine trees surrounded him, hiding the little poor light the Moon offered. Johnathan sat on the hood of his ’47 Chevrolet. He patted the peeling paint of the car and offered an apology.
What was he doing?
He left his home in a hurry three days ago. He was sure the police, maybe even some of his ex-colleagues, raided the place, trying to find him. An armed individual on the loose, prone to violence. Maybe the sergeant even called police station in neighbouring towns.
“Fuck you too, Liam!” John shouted and flipped off the night stars.
An owl screeched back at him.
John chuckled. He looked at the passenger seat. Empty beer bottles were everywhere.
He ran out of water on the first day of his trip. Feeling immensely grateful for the foresight, he thanked himself for buying beer.
Maybe he just wanted to be drunk and forget the monstrosities he saw in the house in Quincy before he set it on fire.
A light twinkled somewhere far in the distance.
As it was too early for Sun to break, Johnathan curiously squinted towards it.
There seemed to be a small house less than a couple of miles down the road. Tall trees hid it well, but the light still gave it away.
Thinking it a gas station, Johnathan hurried towards it, leaving his car behind. He was thinking of all the tobacco they might have.
“Hello!” Johnathan shouted as he neared the house. Once, maybe, it could have been a small convenience store, or at least a shelter. It had stone foundations, and wooden walls, which seemed halfway rotten. The window was dirty and covered with rags, yellow paper, and pieces of cloth from the inside. However, the tiny lightbulb that was mounted above the door buzzed, offering poor light. There were no signs or any indications what this place might have been. Having run for a short minute, the confidence alcohol gave him was slowly dissipating. He patted his empty pocket on his trench coat, realising he had left the gun in the glove department in his car.
“Fuck me…” he sighed.
Still, he did not step back. He grabbed the doorknob and turned. The door slowly opened inwards. Surprised, Johnathan entered.
A few candles burned slowly, giving the whole room a heavy scent and little light. Old shelves and tables lined the wall, all covered in murky jars and bottles. Bare planks covered the floor, and besides an old sofa that seemed recently used, and a table with two flimsy chairs, there was no more furniture. Johnathan slowly advanced, instinctively grabbing for the gun in his empty pocket. He was not sure what he stumbled into, but it was definitely not a convenience store or anything similar.
“Stop it, right there!”
A sharp voice bellowed. Startled, Johnathan froze and slowly lifted his arms. “I am unarmed”, he said. His voice trembled a bit.
“What are you looking for here?”
The voice belonged to a woman, he realized. The accent was off, though he could not place it. He started turning towards her.
“I said-“, She cocked the gun, “What are you searching for here!?”
“I… I am looking for some tobacco…” He whispered.
“Huh?”
“Yes, ma’am, just some plain tobacco. And-and water, if possible. You see, I have been driving-“
“Shut the hell up!” She sighed. Johnathan thought she was confused. “What is your name?”
“Johnathan, ma’am. Do you – Can I turn around?” He took her silence as a yes and slowly turned around, making sure he did not move erratically.
He was looking down at the end of a two-barrel shotgun. Its owner was a short woman, no older than forty, but yet her hair had turned completely white, and her face was covered in lines and shallow scars. Johnathan started when he noticed that her left eye, although looking at him intently, was white and blind. Maybe she was even younger than she seemed.
“How did you find this place?” She asked. Her voice was cold and sharp, and again, the accent was there.
“I… Your light, porch light is on, ma’am.”
“My light? This shack doesn’t even have electricity, what are you blabbering about?”
Johnathan took a step back, shortly forgetting the shotgun. He looked around the house, realising that there was not a single electrical machine present – no light bulbs even, he saw only candles and lanterns.
“What is your name?” She persisted.
Still confused, Johnathan found it difficult to utter words. “Detective Johnathan Ernest, ma’am.”
“Detective? Detective my ass.” She spat on the ground. “You have a badge?”
He did not. He had to give it back. “Back in my car, ma’am. In the glove department.”
“I don’t trust you, Johnathan.” The old woman muttered. Then she sighed. “What am I to do with you now!?”
“Let me go? Please? And maybe give me some water as well, ‘cause… I might die of thirst soon the way things are going.”
“Where- where are you headed?”
“Denwitch, ma’am.”
“The hell you are!” She spat again. “You’ll die there.”
“What-what do you mean?”
She chuckled. “That is a shithole filled to the brim with lunatics, drunks, and things that you would not believe even existed.”
“Sounds like south Boston. You used to live there?”
“Shut up. Don’t be funny with me.” She raised the gun again. “I am the one asking questions. Why do you want to go there?”
Johnathan looked at the old woman. Her eye seemed to pierce him. She wondered if he could lie to her. Yet, on the other hand, did he need to?
“I… One strange woman sent me here. To save a girl. Also, to find some answers. Because… because I think that some of those things that you think I would not believe existed, well… they came to my city.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “They… spread out.” She said it slowly, as if realising the direness of the situation.
“I killed one of them. Burnt the whole house down. Also, I have this.”
He reached slowly to his pocket, pulling out the tarot card. “This is my only clue of the person that I am looking for.”
The old woman lowered the gun. As if mesmerized, she stepped towards Johnathan and took the old tarot card. “The Fool…” she whispered.
Then she laughed.
Feeling relieved that the barrel of the gun was not facing him anymore, Johnathan let his arms down. “What is your name, by the way?” He asked.
The woman looked at him and gave him the card back. “Renna”, she said after a moment. “Here, take it back.”
Johnathan put the card back into his pocket. “Does it mean anything to you? The card?”
Renna’s shoulder slumped and she sat down, putting the shotgun against the wall. She seemed so old and tired. “Yes… and no. Not in a way that I could help you…”
Johnathan sighed confusingly. “You cannot think of some girl that needs saving maybe?”
Renna laughed and looked at him with her blind eye. “I know plenty of girls that need savin’. But rest assured, Johnathan, the girl that you were sent here to find does not need any savin’.”
“Is that so?” Johnathan asked, taking the liberty to sit in the other chair. “Why makes you so sure?”
Renna shrugged. “Some things are just obvious, and some are not. I do not ask you to trust me, but I hope that if I say that the girl you are looking for – Malina is her name by the way – she is in safe hands. As safe as they can be in these parts. Is that enough to make you leave this place? Leave Denwitch and never come back?”
“I still need to find out what is happening with this… cult and whatever those purple stones are. So no, I cannot leave. I need to try at least.”
“You will die there, Johnathan. I do not need the Tarot to see that.”
Johnathan shrugged. “I need more hands to count the number of times people had told me that.”
“Well, add me to the list, then. I hope I am wrong, but I seldom am, especially when it comes to Denwitch.” She stood up.
“So, will you answer me then? Did you use to live there?”
“I cannot help you, Johnathan. The truth is for you to discover, not for me to give. I would not dare do it.”
Johnathan looked at the mysterious woman. “Well besides your cryptic advice, could you at least give me the thing I came here for in the first place?”
Renna looked at him. “Water?”
Johnathan nodded hopefully.
Renna smiled. “I have more than water to give to you, Johnathan. Wait there.”
She left the main room going into what seemed like a shack behind. Johnathan eyed the shotgun leaning against the wall. He hesitated for a moment, but the shuffling sound stopped him. Soon, Renna came back holding a couple of big glass bottles and a small wooden box.
“A small good-luck gift!” she said with a smile. She put the stuff on the table. She gave him the one empty bottle first. “There is an old water pump behind the house. Although it is a bit rusty, the water is not tainted.” She gave him a box of hand-rolled cigarettes, for what he was genuinely grateful. Then she put another bottle, filled with a murky liquid. “This is some old moonshine liquor I have lying around.”
Johnathan laughed. “Seriously?”
Renna looked at him, completely serious. “Trust me, you will need some, if you still wish to go to Denwitch. Sometimes, the only way to swallow the truth, should you manage to find it, is with a slight kick of this. Otherwise, you will go mad.”
“Better drunk than mad,” Johnathan joked, but Renna was dead serious.
“Laugh all you want, but you will understand me soon enough. And finally,” She put the small wooden box. “Should the alcohol not be enough.”
Wary, Johnathan took the box. He opened it. Several large white capsules were on the bottom.
“What is this, Renna?”
“Some sedatives. Just good old laudanum.”
“Why-How old is this?” Johnathan knew his way around drugs, but this was something else. This was ancient.
“Ohh, I couldn’t say. But they are still good, trust me. I have used some the other week. They still have the kick!” She chuckled.
What a crazy lady, Johnathan thought. Not wanting to offend her, he took the box and the two bottles. He would throw the pills later, he figured.
Renna ushered him to the door. “Off you go now, Johnathan. I hope that you reconsider going to that cursed place, for the sake of your life. Although I know you will not.”
He stopped at the door. “If you are so sure that I am going to die there, why all of this?” He lifted the bottles. “Why give useful stuff to a dead man?”
Renna smiled nostalgically. “I wish you to live long enough to discover the truth that you are seeking. And to pass on peacefully.”
“Well that is fucking optimistic to hear. Thank you, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it. And I guess I should thank you, Johnathan Earnest. You have helped me in a way you will never understand. I thought the Fool was me all along, but maybe, maybe the Fool is you.”
Then she slammed the door.
Johnathan stared at the closed door, processing everything that just happened. Then he glanced up.
There were no light bulbs above.
Completely shaken and taken by surprise with the old woman and her story, Johnathan slowly went back to his car. By the time he returned to his car, he forgot the whole reason why he even went to her place. He was still without gas, stranded in the middle of nowhere.
He picked up his gun and other useful items he had lying around his car and stuffed them in an old sports bag he had in his trunk. Johnathan did not believe the old woman had any spare gas lying around, and frankly, he did not want to see her at all. Walking and hitchhiking seemed like a better option.
Remaining beer bottles and the two bottles Renna had given him clanked with every step he took. The road led through a tall forest, gently going up and down around hilly terrain. Despite the road, there were few signs of civilization. No cars passed by, in either direction, and Johnathan did not find any other buildings.
He would glance at the map from time to time, trying to judge how many miles he might have passed, but it was near impossible to perceive. Denwitch, on the map, seemed painfully close to the place where he was, or to the place where he thought he was, but without a good perspective, he could not say if he had a few more minutes to walk, or a full day.
Johnathan’s hungover stomach protested. The only thing he ate was a stack of salted crackers. They reminded him of his time serving in the army. He wished he had asked the old woman for some food as well. Instead, he drank all the beer he had. He was deciding whether to open the suspicious bottle of murky moonshine, when he stumbled on an old plain wooden sign.
“Denwitch. Four miles.”
He thought it looked beautiful.
The forest around him seemed to change. The trees got denser and shorter, as if they were pulling away from the town. Soon, only sickly grey trees remained, few and leafless. Short thorny shrubbery replaced it, and large brownish rocks etched the road. The road mingled in front of Johnathan, but at least he could see some buildings in the distance. Short houses made of wood and stone. One giant church tower shadowed everything else, although Johnathan could not resemble the cross from this far away.
And behind it, a large black still mirror. The ocean.
The sun, despite hiding behind thick grey clouds, made Johnathan remove his trench coat. Several remains of houses appeared next to the road, but he did not see a single living creature.
He realised no birds flew over Denwitch.
When houses, real ones with complete walls and complete roofs, started filling the land, Johnathan felt uneasy. Only wind disturbed the total silence of the place, and he was aware of the eyes looking out at him behind the shutters and old dusty windows. His hand often lingered above the pocket where his gun was.
A row of street lamps edged the pavement, and houses, tightly mashed together, seemed to be ancient and abandoned. Johnathan saw a few strays running around them. One gnarled at him, before running off to join the pack. It was a bony mess of grey-brown hair. Johnathan counted all the ribs on the dog.
When he finally found what seemed like a store or an inn, Johnathan felt grateful. However, the atmosphere changed little, compared to the outside’s gloom.
Planks covered the floor, leading to a bar-table. Behind it, a man sat, listlessly glancing at a newspaper. The paint was peeling off the walls.
“Good afternoon!” John said, forcing a pleasant smile.
The man grunted. He had a straw hat covering most of his head. Below it, a pair of grey eyes looked back at Johnathan. His face was covered in grey bristles, and although Johnathan could not see below the bar-table, the man was dressed in a rough linen shirt.
“What d’ya want?”, the man asked.
“A-“ Johnathan realised he did not really think this through. His stomach growled and answered for him. “Is there a place here where I can find something to eat? And a place to sleep?”
The man did not move. If he were not speaking, Johnathan would not be able to say whether he was alive or not. “A wary traveller? In this part of the country?” Something resembling a chuckle left the man’s mouth. “We ain’t got no fancy diners here, for the folks like you. This is a fishing city, you can eat all the fish you want. Above are some rooms which used to be rented a long time ago, back when people cared to visit here. I can rent one to you.”
Johnathan was thinking whether sleeping outside, with the rabid strays, would be better.
“Well, that would be nice. Does this… establishment offer food?” He asked.
The man nodded to the door behind him. “The kitchen’s there. But my wife ain’t ‘round to cook no more. Go see what you can find to eat. In the evening she can cook you up something solid.”
Thanking the strange man, and paying his share, Johnathan took the keys and ventured into the room behind. As he was passing by the unusual man, Johnathan glanced at the newspaper he was holding. The date said June 1952.
A glass fell, shattering on the ground.
Johnathan gasped. He got up.
He was breathing loudly, looking around himself.
It was a dream.
He stood up, leaving the old uncomfortable bed. It was getting dark outside. The room he got was an attic with nothing but a bed and a creaking window that could not be fully closed. The toilet seemed it had not worked in a couple of decades .
Sweating, he approached the window. He dreamt… he dreamt something. He forgot the sensation of dreams. Ever since his wife had died, Johnathan had not been able to dream.
He tried to remember what it was, but he could only sense the emotions it caused. Confusion, Panic, Anxiety.
Loneliness.
Fear.
He recalled Renna’s words and her bottle of brandy. She must have been talking about this. This place will not let you sleep.
Something creaked outside the door of his room. Then it shuffled.
“Hey!”, Johnathan called out.
Something started running down the hallway.
Johnathan jumped and pursued after. Squinting in the dim hallway, he saw a shape trying to go down the stairs.
Johnathan ran and jumped at the person, making both of them fall down to the floor below.
Ignoring the piercing pain in his left side, Johnathan crouched and turned the person toward him.
It was an old man, thin like a bone. Johnathan winced at the smell.
He was sobbing and squealing in pain. “Curse them. Fools and blinded idiots. And their children, each and every one, and their children too! Cursed them. Oh….” He pushed Johnathan off. Dumbfounded, he could do nothing but watch the rambling old man. He reeked of alcohol. “Sold their wits for a hand of coal. Stupid, naïve, idiots, oh.”
He went limping down the stairs, not even looking back at the person who pushed him down the stairs.
“Wait! Who are you?!” Johnathan called out, but the man ignored him.
“Inviting filth, feeding parasites. Flee, you stupid, stupid man, do not look here. Close your eyes to it all! Curse them all, bloodied hand-“Johnathan could not hear more as the man wandered away.
He stood there for a moment, in the silence of the corridor, before he returned to his room. He sat on his bed, thinking. After some time, he realised that he would not be having any sleep tonight. Might as well do what he does best. He grabbed a cigarette and left for a walk.
He did not know how long he was walking. Or where he was walking to. Everything around him seemed… odd and familiar at the same time. But it was deserted. He saw one old woman, dragging her left leg as she wandered about, mumbling something into her chin. Johnathan did not want to come close to her.
He felt… small. In this town the world had forgotten. The wind rustled the dead leaves on the ground to keep Johnathan always on the edge. The smell of rotting fish covered all. It even overpowered the cigarette that was in his mouth.
He realised how much his wife would hate this place. And yet he would give the world to have her here, beside him, even in this God-forsaken place.
All the houses were old and ruined, barely equipped for living. A few buildings, seemingly once stores or institutions of some kind stood out, but their barred doors and rotten façade offered no clue.
Johnathan took out the tarot card he was carrying in his pocket this whole time. The Fool. Was he one? Or was he looking-
Someone screamed. They seemed scared. Soon, the sounds of a chase reached Johnathan and he took cover behind a small short wall, nervously looking at the source of the noise.
A man ran past. He was missing a shoe and one of the sleeves was torn away. Johnathan sensed his fear.
A part of him, the criminal detective part, wanted to jump, to run after him.
The other part, the tired part, made him stay put.
Then they arrived.
A dozen of them, or what once were men and women, dashed after the poor man. Twisting tendrils gripping their flailing arms and legs, their heads bulging with large shiny purple stones.
They moved fast.
It was true – Johnathan realised, amidst all the panic and fear. Adrenaline locked his muscles, but his mind finally admitted it. What he saw, the things back in Quincy – it was all real. They were real.
“Merciful God” he whispered.
One of the figures stopped. Its legs primed to jump and continue running. Its head snapped left.
Johnathan sank behind his cover.
shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit
Silently, he took his gun out.
A small puddle next to him offered reflection. The thing was still looking at him, although seemingly frozen in place. The round stone erupting from its forehead shined silvery. The eyes of the person that it was before were pushed aside, the nose torn apart right in the middle. It made Johnathan sick just to look at it.
It was a woman before.
Something twirled on the surface of the puddle. The darkness that was supposed to be the night sky, shone silvery as well. Little purple specks popped on it, like plump stars.
Johnathan glanced up, scared. The night was normal. It was a trick of the eye-
The thing roared behind him. Johnathan almost dropped the gun.
Then it started running.
Johnathan jumped into a sprint, shooting two times behind him at the thing.
First time he missed.
The second he hit it in the chest. It did little to make it stop.
He cut a corner, jumping into a different street.
The thing slid as it tried to turn quickly, almost falling. It continued chasing immediately.
Johnathan’s body ached through the adrenaline, but he did not dare stop. He heard the steps of the thing behind him getting louder.
The street ended up in an open darkness. It was the ocean.
Johnathan jumped.
The water was cold. The gun disappeared from his limp hand.
Underwater, everything stopped. His eyes fascinated by the bubbles of oxygen leaving his lips. The light of sparse lamps and stars glittered above.
He heard a large splash of water behind him.
Instinctively he pushed away from it. Something brushed against him.
It pulled on his right leg.
He felt himself going down, icy water streaming into his lungs.
Johnathan kicked and jerked, struggling against the thing pulling him down.
Finally, the lead fingers let go of his leg.
The murky icy water gave no respite, and he only saw air bubbles escaping his mouth.
A faint light shone above him.
He tried to swim up, but his arms and legs were lead. Johnathan’s body gave up on him. The light was so close. He reached up, his fingers barely scratching the foamy surface.
Then he sank.
Someone above sees all.
“Breathe, you moron!”
Johnathan coughed. Salty water erupted from him. Streams and streams of it came out of his mouth and nose. His eyes burned and it felt someone had scraped off the inside of his nose.
“Don’t you know how to swim!?” A stern voice rocked him. He lifted his blurry gaze. Renna stood above him.
She grabbed something from his chest, a piece of paper of some kind, and stashed it into her pocket.
“What-“ Johnathan muttered, but his dry mouth could not speak well.
“How did you know they cannot swim?”
He pulled himself up into a sitting position. He was on a pier. His legs were dangling above the ocean. His right shoe was missing.
“I saw you shot at it, so I took you for dead, but then I heard the splash. You are lucky. You are lucky the Mindless forget who they were before.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When it takes control over their bodies, the mindless need to relearn some of the normal body functions. It is somewhat fascinating, when you think about it! The Pearl knows how to control your limbs, but skills, skills like dancing and, well swimming, that is completely lost to them! They have to relearn it! In a way, the Mindless are like little babies. Little babies in the bodies of adults!”
Johnathan was staring at the old woman rumbling about. “What the hell are you on about?”
She waved her hand dismissively, disappointed. She offered her hand to help him get up. Johnathan checked the ocean below them. It was a solid few feet below.
How did she manage to hoist him up?
Then, as a bolt of fear rushed through his body, he looked back at the city, next to the place where he jumped. And where the thing jumped after him.
“Don’t worry,” The old woman said. “They are not coming after us. Not tonight. They have other plans.”
The woman boldly stepped in one direction, as if knowing the city.
So she did use to live here!
“How did you find me? Did you follow me? All the way from your shack back in the woods?”
The old woman offered a sly chuckle. “I know my way around here. And you were as loud as a dying horse. Wasn’t even a challenge.”
“So, what now? What are we doing?”
“We? You… are getting your ass back to Boston. Me, well, I get to continue looking for a way to stop this madness from spreading.”
Johnathan stopped. “Didn’t you say I would die in this place?” His clothes were dripping. There was a puddle below him. “How the hell did you get me out of the water? Who helped you?”
She stopped and looked back. Then she looked above them. She scanned the sky.
“We should move, someone-“
“Someone above sees all?” Johnathan cut her off. The words were ringing in his mind. They were not his own.
Renna stopped. She squinted her eyes.
“How much do you know?” She asked.
Okay, no we are getting there.
“Not nearly enough. And I want you to be honest with me.” Someone above sees all.
“Okay, but you start first. Give me the tarot card. The one in your pocket.”
Johnathan took it out. It was crumpled and the colours were faded, but strangely enough, it was dry. Someone above sees all. Someone above-
She snatched it from his hand. “Did you dream of this place?”
Someone above sees all someone above sees all someone ab-
Johnathan looked at the card. It depicted a person dressed in red, walking while carrying a large purple stone.
The same stone those things had implanted into their heads.
On the card, above the person, a large purple eye was drawn.
someoneaboveseesallsomeoneaboveseesall
Johnathan looked at the sky above them. He winced in pain. It was cloudy and barely any stars could be seen. And yet what he saw in the reflection in the puddle-
Those weren’t stars.
“Someone above sees all,” he repeated. It was a warning, he realised.
Renna’s face turned to stone. “No, no, no, no, no, no, please-“
His head spun. It hurt to think.
“These things, the men and women, the Mindless as you call them – they all have this thing” Johnathan tapped at the card – “In their head. Is it controlling them? Making them do things? Corrupting them?”
“No, shit, it would be better if you do not know-“
“Do not know what?!” He grunted. His head pulsated now. He felt dizzy, but his stubbornness prevailed. “I am sick of being in the shadow – I, I need-“
ABOVE
He fell on his knees. He did not feel pain. Someone was singing in the background.
“Fuck, here, take this. Swallow.”
She was giving him the old white pills. The sedatives.
“No, I want to hear the music!” Johnathan protested, but he had already swallowed the pill she gave him. It felt rancid.
“I am sorry.” Renna said.
A gun appeared in her hand.
The slightest hint of panic shook Johnathan’s body, but the melody lulled him.
Everything felt… at peace. And Johnathan felt joy. It had been so long since he felt good. Even as his world was falling into darkness, he felt calm. Then the shroud of obliviousness took over and he could not hear the choir anymore.
“The world of dreaming is a horrible place.”
Johnathan let the girl’s words bubble up in his mind. He dug his fingers into the black sand.
“Wait…”, he spoke with trouble. It felt as if a big lead cloud was pressing down on him, invisible to him, but so obvious to everyone else. “Who, who are you again?”
The girl looked at him. Her lush black hair covered the left side of her face. She was sitting next to him, hugging her knees, picking at her torn red dress. Her brown skin seemed bright against the background of black sand.
“My name? I never told you my name.”
“Oh…” Johnathan looked around. Comfortably cool sand was making him drowsy. He heard waves in the distance, although he could not see any water. He felt at peace. “Was someone singing? Just a moment before?” He asked the girl again.
She lifted her head. “Can you hear it now?”
Johnathan focused, but focusing on anything was difficult. His mind was drifting and he had to fight to stay lucid. He heard waves crashing against tall rocks, and the wind whistling and rustling the loose sand. He heard someone banging on the door and calling for help. He heard someone calling his name.
But he did not hear the melody from before. Was it a choir?
“I don’t think so…” He said.
“Ah, good. Okay then. I can give this back to you.” The girl offered her hand to him. As she did so, her hair moved, revealing the other side of her face. Her left eye was white.
Johnathan took what she was offering to him. It was a card of some kind. A tarot card.
His tarot card.
He was starting to remember.
“Wait, what is this? Where am I?” He asked the girl, but she chuckled. The heavy cloud that was on top of him was pushing down. It was difficult to breathe. His limbs got pushed back into the black sand. It felt rough and coarse. “What the – help, help me!” He reached out for her.
“My name is Malina, by the way. And I am so, so, sorry, Johnathan.”
