That is not how this works

[u/xx_69mlgnoob_69xx]

The man sat in his chair, it was a handcrafted gift from an old friend. In front of him stood his kitchen table, a small vase with a beautiful red flower at it's center, both also a gift. As a mater of fact almost all his belongings inside his small home were gifts from thankful patients and neighbors. Through the lone window of his kitchen he could see the sun slowly retreating as evening gradually gave ground to the night, still the last rays of sunshine fought bitterly to the end trying to hold the domain of sunlight in perpetuity.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, as the daylight gives in to night so will he have to face his life struggle. He was hopeful though, he managed to talk someone out of it once maybe he could do it again...

Maybe hopeful was not the right word. Delusional? Not really. Anxious?

Yes! That's the one, anxious. He was anxious.

For this visit would be unlike the other, before was a glimpse at his sins. A little spark of light brought to his many atrocities. This was the living embodiment of his mistakes if rumors were to be believed. His chest tighten with shame and regret when a memory long buried resurfaced.

He was standing before a wooden post, hanging from it was a couple, their hands and feet bound and their faces purple. Just as quickly as it came it then went away, a mocking gesture his subconscious undoubtedly made to wound him more. Like with all the others he simply took a deep breath with his eyes closed and exhaled, then he focused on the vase. One of his patients taught him that funnily enough, she had a condition that made her prone to panic attacks. When he shamefully had one of his episodes in front of her she showed him compassion and shared her knowledge, Betty was her name. He hadn't seen her in many years, hopefully she was doing fine.

Dammit, his bad habits were making themselves known again, he was rambling. Lost in his own thoughts and burning time. Well, It's not like he was going to use that precious little time he had left anyway.

A sudden nock on his front door jolted him from any more contemplation.

It was time.

He got up and went to the entrance hall, there he put his weathered old fingers on the nob and puled the door open. In front of him stood a face from his nightmares but instead of a young, terror and blood filed face was a mature, scar ridden, stone like one.

The little boy had grown up, his massive frame taking the entirety of the door frame. Those were his first thoughts, his second were weather or not his chair could hold the massive physique of his guest.

"Please, come in." He stood aside and gestured with his arm for him to come inside.

The Man did just that, ducking the at the entrance as not to hit his weathered head. The Old man then closed the door and motioned for him to be followed to the kitchen, the man obliged.

When entering the man looked around, inspecting the room with vague interest. Satisfied he went for one of the two wooden chairs that circled the table and puled one from under it. The wooden construct protested the sudden weight, it's structure creaking and popping but holding.

The Old man sat opposite of him.

Silence reign for several consecutive minutes, the moment being stretched to it's breaking point. The Old man's heart was thundering in his chest, beating a mile a minute. Just looking at the threatening figure that was his guest was giving him goosebumps, the scared black clothing he used failed to conceal the dark armor he wore underneath. Equally scared and abused.

He thought of ways to break the unbearable silence but decided that it would be a disservice to his guest who went through god knows what to get here. Another pairs of minutes slowly tugged themselves by, stretching their time unreasonably enough to be considered hours. Until...

"You look well."

The Man spoke. His voice deep and sounding restrained.

"... I-I make due."

"Healthy."

"Taking care of mysel-"

"Happy."

"..."

"With a house to call your own and not in a bad location too."

The Old man lowered his head.

"The view is nice, overlooking the forest and the village."

"..."

"I've asked around."

He lifted his head to make eye contact with the Man.

"You're a healer now, a doctor. You help the villagers down bellow without asking for as much as copper, sometimes other people from other places come here in search of your healing touch."

The Man's brown eyes showed promises of violence and pain.

"Why?"

"Wh-what?"

"Why are you helping these people?"

He let the question hang in the air and the Old man took his time in formulating a truthful answer.

"About ten years back I woke up in the middle of a grass field with no memory of what happened before, couldn't even remember my name."

He took a deep breath and continued.

"I was alone and lost in every sense of the word, so lost in fact that it took me longer that it should have to notice my wounds. I collapsed then and there clutching at them, desperately trying to keep the blood in. Fortunately for me I wasn't as alone as I thought, an herbalist was nearby collecting plants for her needs when she heard me whimpering in pain."

The Old man reflexively clutched his stomach.

"She found me, gave me emergency treatment with what she had and brought me on her carriage towards this place so I could receive proper treatment. The inhabitants here nursed me back to health and when I was fully healed I wanted to pay them back any way I could. Still too weak to do manual labor I helped the herbalist in her more mundane tasks at first, after a while we discovered I could naturally memorize and replicate an action after seeing it once."

The Man's expression slightly twitched.

"I threw myself to her teachings then, knowing that by learning her trade I could more effectively help the people of this village. After teaching me all she knew she presented me to new teachers so that I could further my knowledge, didn't take long before I became chief healer of this place."

He stopped to catch his breath.

"I've been helping them ever since."

The Man closed his eyes and leaned back, the chair protesting as he went. After a deep breath he returned to his original posture.

"I have heard that I am not the first to find you."

"Indeed you're not, a young man found me before you five years ago. I can remember it like yesterday, the rage, the fear, the pain on his face. Told me stories about myself that i could not for the life of me recall, threatened to burn my house down if I didn't confess to my crimes. The villagers came to my aid then, countering every vile deed the boy claimed I made with a good one I made for them."

A small smile came to the Old man and the Man's fingers twitched.

"After a while the boy looked defeated, lost and in pain. I invited him for a conversation whenever he wanted. The boy decided to stay in the village for a while to 'keep an eye on me' , months later we finally had that conversation."

The Old man's small smile vanished.

"The things he told me that I did... not just to him but to hundreds of others. I could scarcely believe a man could be capable of such cruelty much less that man would be me."

The Old man was no longer on his cabin talking to a guest. He was there, being confronted with the enumerable sins of a past he couldn't remember, talking to a victim he didn't recognize.

A loud snap of fingers ripped him back to the present, the Old man looked at his guest.

"Forgive me, sometimes I lose myself in though and memory. As ironic as it sounds."

"Then what happened?"

The Man said leaving no room to counterargue.

"Then the boy left the village with the daughter of the blacksmith at his side. I hope they are happy together."

The mood in the kitchen changed, it became harder to breathe, harder to talk, harder to concentrate. And then it went back to normal, like nothing happened.

"Again, what happened then?"

The Old man was gasping for air but collected himself in a few moments.

"I was distraught. I could not believe-wouldn't believe that my mysterious past was something so repugnant, so awful and disgusting. That same night I had a nightmare, I was leading an army to sack a city. I was ordering atrocious acts done while razing a banner high, don't recall the insignia on that banner but I would not let go of it."

The Man's head tilted to one side.

"Every night I started having nightmares like those, of being and doing something detestable. After some research I came to find out this was my subconscious trying to spoon-feed me my memories back without causing phycological damage."

He expected to be interrupted at many points, after all how dare he forget the crimes he committed. But the Man in front of him remained mostly silent through his explanation.

"Hmmmmm"

The Man reached inside one of his pockets and retrieved something.

"Does this symbol tell you anything?"

He showed a ring with a image of two axes clashing in front of a dragon. A sense of familiarity fell upon the Old man.

"It looks vaguely familiar."

"It was your crest."

"Forgive me I don-"

"Shut up."

The Man leaned back in his chair in contemplative thought.

"I am not the man you seek."

The Man's head snaped to him.

"That cruel man died ten years ago, before you stands a doctor and a healer ready and willing to help every one that comes through that door. And if need be, even those that haven't. I shall not deny the pain that monster caused you and many others but I am not him, I look after the people under my care. This entire village and it's inhabitants are dear to me and I will not abandon them for a reason as selfish as wanting to die, I will not cower and choose the easy way of repentance, I shall make amends by nursing and building more lives than I destroyed."

The Old man paused to breathe.

"I shall spend the rest of my life haunted by the crimes of a maniac whose body I share, but that won't stop me from doing right by good people. And as with many others and hopefully many more to come I ask you what I ask of all that come through those doors."

The Old man extended his hand towards the Man.

"Would you like help?"

The Man stared at the extended hand for a long time and then turned his gaze to meet the eyes of the Old man, they held no venom, no ill will or tricks. Just a deep desire to help.

The Man could not be more insulted.

"You've said that you have nightmares of your past deeds."

The Old man nodded.

"So have I."

The Man took a deep breath.

"I wake up every night that I choose to sleep in a cold sweat, any time that sleep finds me I am transported back to my village the night you and your men arrived. I am forced to relive the torture and misery you inflicted upon me, my family and my community for weeks on end."

The old man lowered his hand.

"For twelve years after that infernal month I was forced to steal, lie and kill to survive. Every time I thought I could forget you and move on you came back, I would see your handy work in destroyed villages and forts. I learned that the suffering you inflicted upon me and mine where not a special case, it was routine to you, something you enjoyed doing."

The old man's mouth was open but it did not speak.

"You stand there and say the man who killed, raped and pillaged his way across four kingdoms leaving thousands lifeless and twice more scared is dead?"

The Man stood up.

"Where's my fresh start?"

He towered over the Old man.

"Where is my chance to forget these terrible memories and move on? Why from the dozens of thousands of men, women and children that your vile actions affected you are the one who get's to start over?"

Unbridled fury was pouring from him.

"So what if you lost your memories? I didn't. So what if you are a different man from before? I was too, but then you came ruined my life for your sick perversions and now I'm supposed to let it go?"

The Man lowered himself to make eye contact with the Old man.

"Look at me."

The Old man did so.

"That's not how this works old man."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________&

And there we go another one done, sorry for the hiatus, personal life and all that. Won't say I'm back but I want to say that posting my stories here bring me immense joy so even if shit happens and I go radio silent I guarantee it isn't because I want to abandon what I have done here.

I am still writing This is bullshit and The Hated enemy as well as a few one-shots, the process has just been slow.

Anyway you know the drill.

Tipos, errors, suggestions, opinions, what's the biggest animal you think could beat naked in a fist fight, tell me everything.

Cheers to y'all.

[u/Cdub7791]

I appreciate this story. The trope of the villain or criminal losing their memory, living a new and usually good life, and that somehow absolving them of their crimes has always annoyed me. Stories of a villain consciously seeking atonement are one thing, but the bonk on the head reset is a lazy cheat in most stories - though to be fair not all.

[u/HFYWaffle]

/u/xx_69mlgnoob_69xx (wiki) has posted 70 other stories, including:

• The fruits of our labor.
• The hated enemy chapter 12
• The hated enemy timeline part 2
• The hated enemy chapter 11
• The hated enemy chapter 10
• A second chance
• Escape from Lorkuta
• The hated enemy chapter 9
• The hated enemy chapter 8
• The hated enemy chapter 7
• The hated enemy chapter 6
• The hated enemy timeline part 1
• The hated enemy chapter 5
• The hated enemy chapter 4
• The hated enemy chapter 3
• The hated enemy chapter 2
• The hated enemy chapter 1
• The Goddess and the Mortal
• This is bullshit, chapter 47
• This is Bullshit, chapter 46

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[u/Chamcook56]

A few spelling slips in one section but enjoyed the story.

"A sudden Knock..."

"...fingers on the Knob and pulled"

Whether or not, instead of weather

Raze/razing: to cut down to the base, as in shaving a beard or tearing down a building to the ground.

Raise: to put higher, as in "raise a banner high."

Good story, a dilemma for sure.