Every night, I lie next to her, pretending to sleep, but in this mockery of life, I no longer sleep. I can hear her heartbeat, smell her flesh. It calls to me. Not in the way it once did, not in passionate love. Something darker. More primal. Predatorial. My mind’s eye shows me tearing into that beloved flesh, promises me how good she’d taste.
I tried to end this miserable existence, but the magic she used to bring me back is too strong. It keeps me trapped in this form, has me cling to this existence.
I no longer need food, but I hunger. The emptiness inside me threatens to engulf what little is left of my conscious mind. I refuse to give in. I cannot leave, for the magic binds me to her as strongly as it binds me to this plane, so I smile, and pretend. I keep going for another day.
One day, she will pass on, and I will be free.
]]>It started earlier today… or no, actually it started last night. I keep forgetting that. Me getting up to piss, hitting my head on the fucking medicine cabinet door. I swore up a blue streak and then went back to bed. Didn’t think much of it at all. Until this afternoon. The museum.
It was time to take the class on their yearly field trip, watching all of the old stuff people used to use. I’d just explained to Jimmy what a phone was, how people used to use those weird contraptions before neural implants became a thing… when the first glitch happened. Fucking scary, I tell you. One minute the museum was as it had always been, all shiny marble and modern glass, the next it was a grey concrete box. I mean, I get it. Why bother making the place look nice when you can just push a theme to everybody’s implants instead? But still, seeing it… it gave me shivers.
I disregarded it, but not 10 minutes later the next one hit me, right as I was taking a piss. Damn near made me soak my shoes. The whole bathroom changed. Goodbye nice white porcelain, hello industrial steel. And the smell… you take for granted how much your implant filters out for you.
Now I was getting freaked out, so that was the moment I decided that I needed to get myself checked out. A glitchy implant can fuck you up pretty good. Luckily, the clinic had a spot for me. But getting here… that was a completely different story.
I’d figured I’d hop on the subway here, no sweat, right? But the moment I went down the escalator I noticed something odd. No ads. Nothing. No jingles in my ears, no women on the posters trying to sell me shaving cream. It was eerie. So quiet… it was unnatural. Then, I get to the turnstile, try to pull up my wallet app to pay and…. nothing. I walked straight into the turnstile, and it hit me in the gut. Damn near had me puking on the ground right there. My wallet app wasn’t responding. No wallet, no payment. No payment meant that turnstile wasn’t budging.
So yeah… I didn’t realise it was even possible, but my implant must have crapped out completely. There I was, in the middle of a crowd in a subway station, and I felt so deeply and desperately alone. Disconnected from the world. They say that in the old days, everybody was disconnected all the time. I have no idea how they survived without going crazy.
So, I decide to hoof it instead. At this point I’m freaking out for real though. Is it even legal to not have a working implant? I remember that there used to be Ludds around in the cities, but I haven’t seen one in years. Didn’t they all move to enclaves? Or was it camps? I don’t remember to be honest.
When I got to the street, that’s when it hit me for real. The sky… it looked… grey. Smog. The streets were filled with garbage, I swear I saw a rat run by. I nearly tripped over a man sitting on the sidewalk. He’d been just staring ahead, but when he saw me looking at him, his face lit up.
“Please sir! I’m a veteran, please can you spare some money? I lost it all in the war.”
That was when I noticed he was missing both legs from the knee down. I was probably the first person to actually see him today. Like most people, I usually had my implant set up to filter out the homeless, but now that it was on the fritz… I was left with the awkwardness of having to pretend I didn’t see him.
I quickly walked on, shaken. That war he’d been going on about. Had there been a new war recently? I’d blocked war reports from my news feed years ago. There wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway, and it just made me feel sad.
My path lead past a little park. The trees looked pretty sad and sparse, but there was a group of people doing gardening work. They didn’t look too great. The grey uniforms they wore looked cheaply made and didn’t fit well. All of them had bulky collars fitted around their necks, and none of them looked like they’d had a decent meal recently.
Two guys in guard uniforms stood by and kept watch. One of them was rolling a cigarette while telling a joke that made the other one groan. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Were those prisoners? No, prisoners wore different uniforms, and none of these people had brands.
Wait, maybe they were peons. I vaguely recalled debt peonage being re-instituted a few years back. It had been touted as a way for people to clear their debts through honest labour. A way to contribute to society. It had sounded like a smart idea, so I think I ended up voting for the guy that proposed it. Looking at the scene now made me feel slightly queasy. This wasn’t what I had imagined to happen.
One of the peons had been pushing a wheelbarrow, but he stumbled and fell. By the looks of it, he was at least 70. Lazily the guard who’d been rolling a cigarette walked over and barked at him to get up. When the old man didn’t immediately respond, he received a sharp kick to the ribs. He collapsed coughing. Now both guards were on him, ordering him to get up right now. The old man tried to get to his knees, but fell back down. The guards exchanged a look, and one of them went glassy-eyed for a second, probably accessing an app through his implant.
The light on the old man’s collar turned red, and shocks ran through his body. He convulsed a few times and then went still. The guards called some of the other peons over, and motioned at the body. They loaded it into the wheelbarrow and carted it off.
I’d been standing there gawking like an idiot, and they almost saw me. I suddenly realised how much trouble I could be in if the guards caught me staring. I wasn’t supposed to be able to see any of that. Law-enforcement was only visible if they wanted to be. Their implants automatically interfaced with the implants of people around them, erasing their image from the viewer’s perception. This meant an officer could be watching you at any time. It had always made me feel safe, knowing that I was being watched over. Now, I felt deeply unsettled.
The world… it had changed so much since I got my implant. A little block on my newsfeed here, some environmental filters there… and I’d created my own happy little world. Right until today that is. I hadn’t realised how much had changed, and I didn’t like it at all. A mixture of feelings that I couldn’t quite describe took hold deep in my gut.
My reverie was interrupted by my the assistant calling my name, saying the doctor would see me now. It only took the doctor a minute to check my implant, find it faulty and to schedule me for immediate replacement surgery. As I went under, I told him:
“While you’re at it, please erase the last 24 hours from my memory. I saw some things I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want those memories keeping me up at night.”
When I woke up, I got a clean bill of health. The doctor told me the routine maintenance on my implant had been a success, and I walked home. The sky was blue, the trees were luscious and green and the streets looked picturesque. Life was good.
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Slowly, I came to, groaning and blinking. Everything hurt, and I couldn’t see anything. Had I gone blind? The memories slowly came back. Sarge.
He’d cut the ladder, and I’d fallen. I was at the bottom of the Hole. By sheer luck, I hadn’t been impaled on any of the garbage lying around. Instead, I’d landed in the clearing John made on the relatively soft sand. My head felt like it could burst at any moment, and when I tried to move my foot, a bolt of pain shot through it. Definitely broken again.
I crawled around on hands and knees, blindly groping for my backpack. Please let the flashlight not be broken. When I finally found the backpack, my hands were shaking so badly that I had trouble finding the flashlight inside it by touch. Every time I thought I felt it, it slipped away from me. Finally, I got a hold of it and switched it on. It still worked. The battery wouldn’t last forever, but at least for now, I could see my surroundings. I shone the light around, expecting to see John, but he wasn’t there. I looked for my phone, and found it on the floor. The screen was cracked into a thousand pieces. I frantically tried to get it to turn on, but it stubbornly stayed dead. In a frustrated rage, I threw it at the wall.
I yelled for Sarge to let me out, but he was long gone. Using an old broom as a makeshift crutch, I limped around the bottom of the Hole, hoping to find some way out. Some kind of tunnel, maybe. A cold, logical voice at the back of my head told me that if there had been one, John would have used it. He was still here, and instead, he had chosen the only way out available to him.
I tried adding more stuff to John’s little tower, but hobbling around on that improvised crutch made it next to impossible to carry anything big. I found a wooden crate that looked promising, and I managed to drag it to the tower by scooting along the floor on my ass, pushing myself forward with my good leg and dragging the crate with me.
It took me 2 hours to get it to the tower. I tried to put it on top as well as I could manage, and I tied it down with pieces of rope from the rope ladder. When I got it as well secured as it was going to get, I tried to climb the pile to see how high it would get me. I got my good leg up, but when I tried to push myself up with the broom, I lost my balance. I landed on my bad foot, and I literally saw stars from the pain.
I collapsed in a panting heap against the wall.
I didn’t quite recall how much time had passed. I remembered shouting until my throat was hoarse and hearing children’s voices at one point. I tried to shout for help, but by then, my throat was so raw that I couldn’t make much sound above a croak. They must have still heard me because I heard high-pitched screams and giggles, retreating rapidly.
For a little while, I held out hope that they would call their parents, that rescue would come. But it didn’t.
At one point, I tried to scrape moisture off the walls because my throat was so parched. It made me violently sick, puking up nothing but bile from my empty stomach.
Through all of this, John didn’t show up. After all his attempts to kill me, he had now apparently concluded that I was doing a fine job on my own.
On the third day, he finally showed up. By then, I had no strength left to move around anymore. I sat on the floor, head leaning against the wall. The wet sand had soaked through my pants, and I didn’t really feel my ass and legs anymore.
Suddenly, he was there. Sitting next to his own corpse. Corpse John and Ghost John, reunited at last. He gave me a tired smile and started speaking. I was dimly aware that this was the first time I’d seen him and heard him speak at the same time.
“The first few days are the worst. When you still have hope. Once you accept that you’re not getting out, it becomes easier. In the end, I found that old switch-blade and well… you’ve seen the rest. You might want to consider doing the same.”
I looked at the knife, lying on the floor where it had fallen out of his hand. Old, rusty, and dull. It had been his way out. His release from the hell I’d put him in.
He let his head hang low and continued.
“Look, man, I’m sorry. I said and did things that I shouldn’t have, and I deeply regret that now. That business with the runes. It hurt so much, both physically and emotionally. It made me want to retaliate, to hurt you like you had hurt me. But… that’s not who I want to be, and I’m deeply sorry about that. I know apologies won’t do you much good at this point, but I still wanted you to know.
You fought so hard to get rid of me, and that hurt. You have no idea how rejected that made me feel. I’m here because I’m part of you, and you tried to get rid of me like so much unwanted trash.
I love you. I always have. Nothing you can do will change that. You and Suzie: you were my people. The whole rest of the world could burn, for all I cared.”
Something inside me broke.
“Stop being so fucking nice! I dumped you down here and left you to rot, and even now you have to be the better man by fucking apologizing? Even now, you have to show me, how much of a piece of shit I am? What the fuck do you want from me? Do you need to hear me say I’m sorry for what happened? That I wished you were still around?
Your apology is bullshit! A bunch of talk about how you felt sorry for hurting me, but at the same time you were trying to kill me. It’s not who you want to be, but here I fucking am! In the same place as you, in the same fucking situation. All of this is your fault, your doing! You made me do all of it! You’re no better than me, so stop pretending that you are!”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he got up and sat down next to me. His ghostly arm rested on my shoulder. I couldn’t really feel it, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“All I wanted was for you to be happy, and all I saw was how you were driving yourself deeper and deeper into misery. So, I tried to give you the same kindness that I ended up giving myself. To end your pain.”
His words made my anger wither away. Maybe what he was saying was true. Maybe he had just been trying to offer me kindness. Mercy. Maybe that was already more than I deserved.
He was right. There was no other way of getting out of here than the one he had chosen. The way he had shown me. There was a certain balance to it, a sense of justice. It was the same as I’d realised for Suzie: I was just expediting the inevitable.
With the last of my strength, I crawled over to John’s remains and picked up the knife. My hand shook as I put the rusty blade to my throat. I pushed, and pain hit me like icy lightning. I pulled it sideways, determined to get the artery. I must have succeeded, judging by the rush of hot blood that flooded over my hand. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was surprised at how easy it was, compared to the rituals.
I let my head rest against the wall.
When you’re fighting for your life, you feel that you’re constantly running out of time. But now, when I was irrevocably dying, time slowed down for me. I felt like I had all the time in the world. Time to think. Time to notice things. Time to remember.
My eyes drifted over to John’s remains. I looked at the skull. Something wasn’t right. The teeth… they were uneven. Not horrible, but a far cry from the pearly white movie star grin that Ghost John showed. Had John really looked like that?
I thought hard, and now it came back to me. How he had wanted braces, but his parents said he didn’t need them. Saying his teeth looked fine.
What else did I remember wrong?
A flood of memories hit me. How, at the bachelor party, he hadn’t intervened at all. He’d looked uncomfortable and tried to laugh it off. I had wished that he would stand up for me. Wished it so hard that it became my reality. Wished it, yet hated him for it.
The visits when I could feel the tension in the air between John and Suzie, because they’d been arguing. The bald spot that had started to form on his head, that he was so self-conscious about.
How much of the John I’d been seeing had never existed? John hadn’t been perfect. He hadn’t been a saint. He was human. A good man, but still just a man. My friend.
I had idolised him and put him on a pedestal. I blinded myself to his very human nature, yet resented the demi-god I had created.
As my vision faded rapidly, I heard John’s voice in my ear.
“You know, death is the end. There is nothing afterwards. There never has been.”
It dawned on me that it didn’t really sound like John’s voice at all. It sounded like mine.
“The dead don’t come back. They hold no grudges. Only the living feel. It’s only the living that feel remorse.”
The weather had been dreadful last night, with heavy rain and storms. Father Perry pulled his coat tighter around him as he went out on his morning walk.
He walked his usual route, through the centre of town, around the lake and back, with a little rest-stop to catch his breath at the old pavilion. His old legs couldn’t carry him as far as they used to, and watching the sun rise over the lake always put him in awe of the beauty of God’s creation.
His thoughts were taken up by the news this morning. Deborah’s girl, taken from the care facility. The last person to have seen her was Michael. The police assumed he’d abducted her for reasons unknown. Such a troubled young man, much like his father had been before him. Father Perry sighed, and for the dozenth time, he wondered if he had done the right thing. If he could have said something to prevent all of this.
When he came up to the pavilion, he noticed something unexpected. A woman, looking around, seemingly dazed. He hurried over as quickly as his legs would allow.
Suzie slowly opened her eyes. The first rays of sunlight shone in her face and made her head hurt. She tried to sit up, shaking her head to dispel the fogginess and shielding her eyes from the brightness.
She felt like she’d been dreaming for a long time. Her memory felt fragmented. This place was familiar. She used to come here often. The lake. She’d always gone here with Michael and John. So many warm summer nights, filled with laughter and love. But how did she get here now?
She tried to remember, but it was still a jumble. Fragments of shouting voices and the image of a bloody fist raised in the air. A deep sense of pain and loss hit her. Her chest ached, tears flooding her eyes. Through the tears, she thought she saw two figures standing at the edge of the lake in the morning sunlight. One had his arm around the other’s shoulder, and their silhouettes seemed achingly familiar. Michael and John? She blinked to clear her vision, but when she looked again, there was nobody there.
More and more memories returned to her. Michael. He’d… he had tried to rape her. The betrayal cut so deep. That man… she’d never stopped loving him, but there was a darkness inside him. He’d been her first love, and she’d always seen the good man underneath. She saw the hurt little boy, the man he could be. If only he could have been able to see it himself. He never could and turned to alcohol instead. When he drank… he became a different person.
In the end, she’d made the only sane choice she could make. She had broken things off and married John instead. She deeply loved John. He’d always been good to her. She’d been happy, of sorts. Still, their yearly visits had always been filled with a sense of sadness. A sense of what could have been.
Suzie shivered in the cold morning air, the tears flowing freely as more and more fragments of memories started to surface. Then, she saw a figure approaching, out of breath. Father Perry. He put his coat over her, called an ambulance, and sat with her.
As she sat there, clutching the heavy coat around her, she thought she saw the two figures again, walking away, but when she looked again, they were gone. She must have imagined it.
The End
]]>This is chapter 19 out of 21. - I post a chapter per week.
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My feet kept slipping in the mud, and several times, I nearly lost my footing. On one occasion, I went down hard on one knee, painfully banging it on a rock. Every step hurt. My foot was on fire, and my legs and knee were aching. My back was protesting more and more with every step I took.
Finally, I made it to the lakeside. It looked much the same as I remembered it. The wooden pavilion had acquired some new graffiti, and the paint was more peeled and weathered than I remembered it. Apart from that, nothing had really changed. For a moment, a deep sense of sadness and loss came over me. We’d been so happy here back then, Suzie, John and me. Our little triad now turned into a horrific parody of itself.
Everything had gotten fucked up. I had fucked it all up.
I sighed. This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I’d finally made it to the pavilion, and I gently lowered Suzie down on the bench. I should have brought the blanket from the car to cover her. At least she was out of the rain. I allowed myself to relish the short reprieve for a minute, stretching the aching muscles in my back. I couldn’t stay here long. Now that I’d stopped moving, the chill started to settle into my bones. I needed to get on my way quickly, or I’d be overcome by hypothermia.
Shithole wasn’t huge, but the Hole was on the other side of town. In a straight line, it would take me about 30 minutes to get there, but I wanted to avoid people as much as I could. That meant taking the long way round. The rain let up a little bit and settled into a steady drizzle. It was getting late in the day, and the sky took on the darker colours of night.
I kept my head down and slogged on, the weight of the backpack making my shoulders ache. The rope ladder was heavier than it looked, and the aluminium rungs kept poking my back. I tried to resettle it into a more comfortable position, but all that accomplished was that I was now poked in a different spot by a different strut. I resolved to just ditch the ladder once I’d gotten the bones. It would make the trip back much easier.
I became aware of a second set of footsteps right next to me. I looked up to see John walking alongside me. His hands were in his pockets, his back slightly bent. The rain wasn’t visibly affecting him, but he seemed burdened by a weight nonetheless. I looked over at him but just kept walking. Either he killed me, or I got rid of him. Either way, this was ended tonight.
I was too cold, too exhausted, too damn sick of all this shit to muster any more reaction than that. I remembered blindly running away, overcome by terror, back when I first heard him in those fields. The thought brought a cynical smile to my face. Look at me now.
He kept pace with me, walking in silence. I gave him an annoyed look.
“What the fuck are you looking at? If you’re going to do something, just fucking do it. Else, leave me the fuck alone.”
He didn’t respond. I hadn’t really expected him to, anyway. We kept walking in silence for a while, the only sound was that of the wind in the trees. I wasn’t completely sure when he disappeared. One moment, he’d still been there, quietly slogging along, and then he was gone again.
For a moment, I realised it felt… lonely. John had been the one constant in my life for all these years. First as my friend, and now as… whatever the hell he was. Then, a branch rubbed past the partially healed brand on my shoulder making me wince. I absent-mindedly rubbed the skin on my other arm where John had scalded me. It still itched like all hell on certain days. I looked down at my missing pinky and my mangled foot. Plenty of reminders of why I needed to get rid of John… tonight.
I was drenched, miserable, and exhausted by the time I finally made it to the Hole. By now, I felt like there wasn’t a single muscle in my body that didn’t hurt. I was definitely going to pay for this in the coming days, but right now I needed to push through. I scouted around for a good spot to attach the ladder, and I settled on a sturdy looking tree. I took extra care tying solid knots and making sure they were tight. My life would quite literally depend on them. I found myself going back to check again, looking around, double-checking my backpack… I realised I was procrastinating, putting off the moment when I actually had to start descending the ladder.
I was dreading going down there. Knowing what I’d find. Being confronted with the physical evidence of what I’d done. I shook my head. I was a fucking Wolf, RuneMaster had told me so himself. Some old bones shouldn’t scare me. Before my courage could leave me again, I grabbed the ladder and carefully started the climb down.
The walls of the Hole glistened with moisture from the rain, and it smelled damp and musty. The top part was still rough concrete, but soon, the inside walls were just old brick covered in moss. The musty smell mixed with the scent of decay. Old mould and garbage. John most likely wasn’t the only dead thing down here.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it to the bottom. My feet partially sunk into the wet sand, squelching at every step. It was pitch black. The moon was still mostly hidden behind heavy clouds, and what little light it did cast mostly didn’t make it all the way down here.
I rummaged around in my backpack and grabbed a flashlight. As was to be expected, the bottom of the Hole looked like a garbage dump. Random crap was strewn everywhere. People had been dumping shit down the Hole for ages. I found myself thinking that finding John’s bones might not be as simple as I’d hoped.
I soon found out that I was very, very wrong about that. John’s bones could not have been easier to find if there had been a neon sign pointing to them.
I started walking along the walls, thinking I’d systematically search the refuse littering the floor. Soon, I came to a little area that seemed cleared out. Up against the wall, in the middle of that area, was a pile made of some wooden crates and bricks. An old bicycle frame was propped up against it, tied down with the bike’s inner tubes.
John’s body was sitting against the wall, next to the pile. One of his feet was pointing in an unnatural direction.
The truth hit me like a freight train. John hadn’t been dead.
I thought I’d murdered him, but I hadn’t. At least not at the moment I thought I had. Instead, I had done something way, way worse. I had condemned him to starve to death at the bottom of this well.
Looking closer, the corpse told a terrible story. On the floor, next to his hand, was a rusty old switch-blade. The front of his shirt had been drenched in blood. It was now a dull, rusty colour, but there hadn’t been that much blood when I dumped him here.
He… he had cut his own throat.
I reeled at the enormity of what I had done. The world spun around me for a moment, and I needed to steady myself against a wall. I dropped to my haunches, letting the dizziness pass. Finally, I managed to steady myself. Yes, it was horrific, but it wouldn’t help me to dwell on it. John was dead, and no amount of my feeling bad would bring him back.
Ultimately, the exact way he died didn’t make a difference. The fact of the matter was that he was dead and haunting me. After all that had happened, I seriously doubted that me saying: “Oh, oops. I didn’t realise you died in such a shitty manner, I’m sorry” would make a lot of difference.
I could feel bad later. Right now, I didn’t have time for this. John could show up at any time, and something told me he wouldn’t be so passive as he had been on the walk over here.
I needed one of his bones.
I had expected him to be a skeleton, and I had been mostly right. His hair was still there, and in some places, little patches of skin still clung to him. He was still wearing his clothes, but they were heavily stained with blood and mud.
I hadn’t really given much thought to which bone I’d get. I’d pictured myself just kind of walking over to a pile of bones and picking one out. That wasn’t going to work. His tendons were not completely gone, and mostly still held him together. Most of him was covered by his clothes, and undressing him somehow felt… wrong. Even after everything I had done to him and everything he had done to me, undressing his corpse to take a bone still felt a step too far. Like I’d be humiliating him. Like it would be an affront.
My gaze fell on his hand. Yes, that would work. His pinky. There was a kind of poetic justice to that. I’d lost my pinky trying to get rid of him, and now he’d lose his to finally seal the deal.
I took the shears from my backpack and grabbed his hand. The back of my neck prickled, like I was being watched. I scanned my surroundings, expecting to see John. Ghost John, not Corpse John. Fuck, this was confusing! There was nothing. He was nowhere to be seen.
I shrugged and got to work. The shears easily snipped through his finger, giving me three finger bones to work with. That should be plenty. Then, I reconsidered and snipped off his other pinky as well. Couldn’t hurt to have a spare.
I put both fingers into a ziplock bag and stuffed everything into my backpack. Again, that feeling. Eyes on me. I looked around, shining my flashlight into every little corner, but I didn’t see anything. The garbage lying around cast eerie shadows, but nothing moved.
I shrugged, put the flashlight away, and started climbing the rope ladder. I gave it a few good tugs to make sure it was still securely attached, and once I was satisfied, I started the slow climb up.
My foot hurt more with every rung I climbed. The concentrated force of my weight pressing down on the rungs put strain on the spot where it had been broken. I gritted my teeth and kept climbing.
I was about halfway up when the sensation came again. I was positive that I was being watched. I looked around, and this time, I also looked up. Far above me was the bright circle of sky, formed by the entrance to the hole. And there, eclipsed in the light, was a face. A grim face, covered in angry red burn marks, his beard singed away in places. Sarge.
I locked eyes with him, and he gave me an angry look that slowly turned into a feral grin. With slow movements, he first flipped me off and then pulled out his big knife.
As he started sawing at the ropes, I had a split second to decide. Should I try to move up or down? Down could spare me a fall, but I’d be stuck at the bottom of the hole with John. Up was my only real option, but the chances of me making it were tiny. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t really a choice at all. Up. I climbed with everything I had, ignoring the pain in my foot, the burning of the muscles in my back, the screaming of my lower arms and hands.
I put on every burst of speed I could. It was no use. With a loud twang, one of the ropes snapped. I swung to the side like a pendulum, holding on to the strut in my hand for dear life.
Sarge’s face appeared again.
“This is how we treat renegades. You’re not even worthy to string up for Wodan. May the ravens feed on your corpse instead.”
After one more stroke of the knife, the second rope snapped as well, and I plummeted towards the bottom of the Hole.
]]>I’ve been feeling insecure lately. My health has been faltering, most likely an after-effect from the Covid infection I had back in September. It meant I got sick 3 times over a short period of time, and it left me feeling a lot weaker than I’m used to.
My exercise regime got completely sidetracked for a while, and as I’m trying to pick it up again, my body is fiercely protesting that I’m too old for this shit. That I should retire and leave this to younger men.
On dates my penis has been decidedly less enthusiastic, taking much longer to spring into action and sometimes blankly refusing at all. It’s been a big blow to my self-esteem. It’s a reminder of how much of my self-image is still tied to my body, and how much detoxing I still have to do there.
But back to the argument. She had a date, and this one was a bit scary. The guy in question was younger than me, more fit than me, you get the idea. Rationally I know she prefers the nerdy guys, but this hit me right in the insecurities.
Originally, I’d indicated that I’d appreciate a check-in afterwards, but if work got in the way, I’d just self-soothe. After some thought, it didn’t sit right with me. I noticed that I’d offered to self-soothe because I felt that’s what I was supposed to offer. I was making myself small, not wanting to be a burden, not wanting to take up space.
When I realised that, I texted her, saying I did actually need a call – and that’s when Lucy pounced. She painted the whole following conversation for me. The cold refusal, the scoffing reply to not be a baby, the eye-roll. Now, for those of you that actually know my kitten, you’ll know this is about as far from how she’d respond as you can get. She’d never react to me like that.
That’s what brain weasels do. They take someone you love, and paint a caricature of them, an evil twin that acts out your fears. It has nothing to do with the actual person, and everything with your own trauma. In fact, I also recognised that I’d been on the receiving end of exactly this pattern in a previous relationship. I’d be trying to defend myself from something I didn’t actually do, but which the version of me in her head did. This whole thing of playing out the conversation in my head is a trauma response. My tendency to take the conclusion of that imaginary argument and act on it is a safety mechanism.
Thanks to therapy, I recognised it. So, I regulated, and we had a lovely call after our date. I shared my fears, I cried a little, and we both had a laugh about the image of Lucy in a kitten wig. It all went much better than the picture in my head. I felt loved, supported and seen. I gave Lucy a mental hug. The poor thing is just trying to keep my safe, but I hope that one day she’ll learn that I already am safe.
]]>This is chapter 18 out of 21. - I post a chapter per week.
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I’d only been driving for a few minutes when the first fat raindrops struck my windshield. I looked at the sky and saw that it had turned a dark, leaden colour. The wind had also picked up, shaking the tree branches. It looked like we were in for some deeply foul weather. In a way, it felt like a fitting background for the ritual.
Doubts kept nagging at the back of my mind. Would I be able to do the ritual at all? And if so, would it work? I tried not to dwell on them. It would just have to work. I was out of options.
In the backseat, Suzie was still mumbling softly. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the effect was deeply unsettling. I seriously doubted that any of it was good. The rain intensified, and I cranked the wipers up to their highest setting. They were dry and cracked and didn’t do a great job of keeping the windshield clean. I should have replaced them ages ago, but well… new wipers cost money.
I looked in the rearview mirror. Nothing. No police or Sons in sight. So far, so good. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. Trying to calm down. I’d been running on straight adrenaline ever since the nursing home, and it was starting to take its toll. My limbs felt heavy, and a deep exhaustion took hold of me.
I was so fucking tired. My brain felt like it was filled with thick molasses. It made it hard to think. I needed my wits about me, but my brain was just a big jumbled mess. I really couldn’t afford anything else going wrong. All my margin for error had been used up, and then some.
The plan had changed so much that large parts of it were just big question marks now. Like what I was going to cook the heart in. How I’d make sure the circle wasn’t going to be washed away in this rain. I shook my head. I really couldn’t afford to let myself be sidetracked by that right now. If I stopped to think, I’d never start moving again. I’d just sit there and let John do his worst. I would need to figure it out on the way, hoping for a stroke of good luck. Surely I was due for something to go my way by now?
For now, my priorities were simple. Retrieve John’s bones from the Hole, get to the beach, and take it from there.
My reverie was broken by a blaring horn. Frantically, I looked around and saw a car right next to me, close enough for our side mirrors to touch. I realised it had been trying to overtake me. As it was pulling past me, I’d drifted into the left lane. I yanked the wheel hard to the right, only just managing to avoid a collision. The driver flipped me off, and I could see him shouting at me. I didn’t need to be able to hear him to get the gist of what he was saying.
I breathed deeply and tried to get my racing heart back under control. My eyes went back to the rear-view mirror, and somehow, I knew what I’d see even before the view confirmed it. There was John, sitting in the backseat. He paid me no attention at all. Instead, he was looking down at Suzie with a mixture of love and deep sadness on his face while gently stroking her hair.
The rain intensified to a heavy downpour, hammering down on the roof of the car in a dull roar. I could hardly hear myself think from the noise. Visibility was down to almost nothing now. Still, I recognized where I was. The fields where John had stalked me. Before the Sons, before the rituals, before everything had gone to shit. Back when I still thought it was all just in my head. It felt like ages ago.
The drainage canals were struggling to keep up with the torrent of water coming down, and they’d probably be overflowing soon. Trees were planted at regular intervals at the side of the road, but my headlights were able to illuminate maybe two trees ahead before the rain obscured the view. I eased up on the accelerator, keeping an eye on John. He was still completely focused on Suzie.
I tried to stay as still as I could. I didn’t want to draw his attention. I figured I’d slowly, slowly, ease off on the speed and let the car coast. Then, I’d wait out the rain.
Suddenly, John looked up, and his eyes met mine in the mirror. His face was no longer inscrutable. Now, it was filled with anger. The next moment, he was gone from the mirror. Confused, I looked around, only to find him right next to me in the passenger seat. I startled, and somehow, I found my foot stomping down on the accelerator.
John’s hand shot out and went right into mine. I felt myself pull the steering wheel hard to the right. The last thing I saw was a tree brightly illuminated in my headlights, coming towards me at high speed.
I woke up, feeling like I was suffocating. All I saw was white, and for a second, I wondered if someone was pushing a pillow into my face. My feet were freezing, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. Then, fragments of memory started to come back. The tree. John. Somehow, I’d managed to avoid hitting the tree head on, but I’d still grazed it. Slowly, the details started to become clear. My feet were in freezing water, and the car was tilted forward. I must have landed in one of the canals. It wasn’t deep enough to fill the car with water to more than knee-height, or else I would probably have drowned.
I freed myself from the airbag and looked dazed into the back seat. The shock had thrown Suzie from the seat itself, and she was now lying in the space behind the front seats. For a second, I thought she was dead. I saw all my chances of getting rid of John dashed for good. Then, I heard her mumble, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I managed to untangle myself from my seat belt. Shakily, I got out of the car. Suzie looked mostly unharmed except for some bruises. The water didn’t reach up to where she was, so she hadn’t even gotten wet. She had gotten lucky, for the same reason drunk drivers are often unharmed. Being completely relaxed and limber had allowed her to just absorb the impact without getting too badly hurt.
The hood of the car was completely submerged and still making clicking noises. This car wasn’t going anywhere without a tow truck. Even then, it was most likely destined for the junkyard.
What now? I couldn’t leave Suzie here while I went to get the bones. If a car came by, they’d almost certainly stop to investigate. They’d find her, and everything would be over. My only option was to take her with me and put her somewhere safe.
Slowly, a plan formed in my head. I needed her at the beach, and in this weather, nobody in their right mind would go there. I thought back to when John and I would hang out there, how we’d take shelter in the old wooden pavilion. It would be the perfect spot to leave her for a little while.
I was certain that it would be completely deserted right now. It was a little out of the way, but it could work. She’d be safe and dry there, and I’d have a chance to collect the bones.
Yes, that would work. I’d stash her there, get the bones, and then return to wait out the rain. Once it had stopped, the wet sand would be perfect to draw the circle in. OK, that settled it.
I grabbed my backpack from the trunk, along with a roll of ziplock bags. I filled the ziplock bags with the ingredients I’d need, eyeballing the amounts. I just hoped Wodan wasn’t a stickler for exact measurements. I also grabbed the rope ladder and stuffed it into the backpack. Then, finally, I hoisted Suzie onto my shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
The rain soaked us in seconds, and I immediately started to shiver again. I could feel Suzie starting to tremble as well, so I wrapped her in my jacket, best I could. The rain plastered my hair to my scalp, and it made my T-shirt stick to my skin. Already, I could feel the first few icy streams of water starting to run into my underwear.
I started walking, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Soon, this would all be over. Very soon.
]]>This time of year used to be really hard on those around me because I’d be apt to bite people’s heads off at the slightest provocation. Luckily, the combination of ADHD medication and a sun lamp took the worst edge off it.
Still, I feel like a gas flame that’s been turned way down. I’m here, but I’m running basic life support functions only.
On top of that, I still feel the after-effects of Covid, which also make my ADHD worse. The net effect of both is that my memory is terrible, and motivating myself is a lot harder than usual.
Ironically, me feeling this way often leads me to abandon exactly the things that would help me. I stopped doing my half hour offline for a while, because the thought of just sitting and reflecting for half an hour felt like an insurmountable chore. It makes no sense, since the whole point is not having to do anything for that period. It’s a little gift to myself, not another job to accomplish.
What also didn’t help, was me getting knocked on my ass by the flu at New Year’s Eve, so my exercise regime has also been a mess.
I’ve been writing a fair amount, but there I also struggle. I have plenty of good ideas, and I’m managing to get words down, but none of it flows well. All my prose feels stilted and awkward, and needs several revisions before I even dare show it to anyone.
Still, as I realised today: it’s much better to write crappy prose than to not write. Crappy prose is the soil that good words grow in. None of my stories are set in stone, I’m free to go back later and fix them. I’ve done that before, and it made them much better. You need something to work with though, so that’s how I’m seeing it now.
For my memory issues I’ve tried to just accept that right now, I’m not as capable as I’m used to. I try to see it as the mental equivalent of having sprained my ankle and needing a crutch to walk for now. It will get better, but trying to make the problem disappear by sheer force of will simply won’t work. So, I’m writing everything down. It feels slow, but it really isn’t. The time I lose writing stuff down is recouped by not having to go back to see what I was doing every 10 seconds. I’m trying very hard not to see it as failure, but as the right accommodation for this moment. The crutch I need to go outside.
Right now there is sun outside, and I went out to walk in it. The long dark will end, it always will. My brain will get less foggy, but in the meantime I’ll be gentle with both my brain and myself.
]]>This is chapter 17 out of 21. - I post a chapter per week.
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I pulled up to the warehouse but left the engine running while I thoroughly checked my surroundings. It looked as abandoned as always. Still, I didn’t want to run the risk of someone happening upon Suzie while I was inside, so I drove around the back of the warehouse and parked there, well out of sight. I killed the engine and got out.
Before going in, I checked on Suzie. Her condition seemed unchanged. She was still unconscious. She mumbled and made small movements, but she showed no signs of waking up further. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was just taking a nap.
I walked around the building and up to the main door. The new lock I had put into place looked untouched. I unhooked the lock, undid the chain, and slid the heavy door open. It resisted a little, groaning and creaking with age.
Last week, I had spent a gruelling day here. First, I’d cleared out a big space in the middle of the floor, moving crates and boxes out of the way. Then, I spent hours crawling around on my knees, drawing a big rune-filled circle on the ground in red paint.
I’d posted snapshots of the circle itself in the chatroom to make sure I got it right, but I’d made sure to keep any distinguishable landmarks out of the picture. I’d set up candles all around the circle, and all the required ingredients were in neatly labelled jars in the middle. Right next to it was the old cast iron pot I was supposed to burn them in.
Everything was still where I left it. All that was missing were the final two ingredients. One of them was now in my car, but it didn’t feel right to simply dump Suzie here on the hard concrete floor while I went to collect the bones. She probably wouldn’t feel it, but still. I looked around for something I could use to make her a bit more comfortable. Maybe, if I folded some of the boxes flat, I could improvise something like a bed for her.
There was a huge stack of boxes near a back wall, and they didn’t look to be in too bad a shape. They were a little musty, but beggars can’t be choosers. I walked over and started looking for the least mouldy ones. Suddenly, a sound startled me. The door.
I quickly hid behind the stack of boxes. I forgot to move the lock and chain to the inside. I silently cursed myself for not thinking of that earlier.
Voices sounded.
“Yeah, this is the place, alright. See that circle?”
A familiar voice grunted assent. Geoff.
“Goddamn asshole. The fucker attacked me out of nowhere. One minute he’s standing there the next he goes crazy. What the fuck was RuneMaster thinking, inducting that nutcase?”
“Watch your tongue, or you might lose it. It’s not up to us to question RuneMaster. Just be happy the idiot forgot to turn off the geotags on those pics he posted. Looks like we beat him here.”
I peeked out from behind the boxes, my heart hammering in my throat. There were three of them. Geoff, sporting a T-shirt wrapped around his head as a make-shift bandage, and two guys I hadn’t seen before. One of them looked to be in his 20s, while the other was much older. Grizzled, probably late 50s. He was obviously the one in charge. His bearing had something vaguely military about it, and I caught myself mentally naming him Sarge. I guess that would make the younger guy… Grunt? Yeah, I liked that. It sounded fitting.
Grunt carried in a heavy looking toolbox and a large coil of rope. As he put it on the floor, he spoke up.
“So, is this for real? We’re really doing the whole balls-cut-off and stuffed-in-mouth thing? I always thought that was just a bunch of bullshit to keep everybody in line.”
Sarge scoffed at him.
“Oh, it’s real, alright. We don’t get renegades often, but it does happen. When I was your age, we caught one, and I had the honour of being the one to pull out his tongue. It was my first step towards being where I am today. Prove yourselves well today, and Wodan will smile upon your future.”
“Yeah, but aren’t we supposed to be hanging him from a high tree or something?”
“The tree is metaphorical. It’s the hanging part that’s important. Those ceiling beams will do just fine.”
I tried to be as still as I could, while they tied a noose in the rope and then proceeded to swing it over one of the steel beams that held up the ceiling.
When I looked again, I had to blink my eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving me. A moment ago, there had been three people there, but now there were suddenly four. Then, recognition set in and it all made sense. John.
He was just standing there, watching them work. He looked appreciatively up at the noose and then straight at me in my hiding place. He pointed up at the noose and nodded at me. Then he was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared.
My mouth went bone dry, and fear settled deep in my stomach. John had done way worse to me than just look, but that gesture was still unsettling as fuck. None of the others had seen John, but that was no surprise. They had secured the rope to a hook and were now busy laying out a grisly array of tools, using one of the crates as a makeshift table.
Once they were done with their preparations, they made themselves comfortable, clearly settling in for a long wait. Grunt pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. Before he got a chance to light it, Sarge had walked up and snatched it from his mouth. He slapped him the way you’d slap a disobedient child.
“Are you fucking blind? This place is a tinderbox! If you want to smoke, do it outside. And keep an eye out for our renegade while you’re out there.”
Even from this distance, I could see the anger in Grunt’s eyes. With visible effort, he kept his mouth shut and stomped out. He pulled the door closed behind him, probably not wanting to run the risk of pissing off his boss even more with smoke drifting in.
I was so focused on watching them that I didn’t watch out for John, and he took advantage of that. Suddenly, right next to my ear, I heard him whisper. Just a single word.
“Boo.”
I fucking jumped, all stealth forgotten for a moment. In that uncoordinated movement, I knocked over the pile of boxes I’d been hiding behind. Both the men jumped up and were looking around for the source of the noise.
Sarge silently gestured for Geoff to go investigate. They hadn’t seen me yet, but they were taking no chances. Geoff walked past the tray of tools and picked up a weapon. Cautiously, he started moving in my direction. Meanwhile, Sarge drew a knife from a sheath at his back and started coming my way too. He was hanging back, letting Geoff take point and run the most risk. Definitely military.
With all the noise from the boxes falling over, I expected to hear the door at any second, but it stayed quiet. Somehow, Grunt seemed to have missed all the commotion so far. I’d worry about that later. I looked at my options and realised I had very few. Geoff was approaching me, but since the warehouse was pretty much a maze of crates, he couldn’t move in a straight line.
They were both moving in from the left, so I went to the right. I did my best to stay low and move quietly. I desperately tried to remember a path through these crates, but my mind came up blank. I could hear their footsteps behind me, closing in. I randomly turned left and found myself at the edge of the open space, with the circle between me and the door.
I looked over my shoulder to see how close they were, and that moment my foot hit something round. It rolled away under me, and pain shot up my leg as I felt the bones in my foot grind together, where they’d been broken and healed. My leg gave out under me, and I lost my balance. I fell flat on my face, managing to break the fall somewhat with my hands. The rough concrete floor tore my palms open. I tried to stifle the shout that wanted to escape from my mouth. I mostly kept it in, but I didn’t manage to keep completely quiet.
I heard Geoff shouting behind me.
“It’s him! He’s here!”
I rolled onto my back, terrified and near paralysed. This was it. There was no way I could outrun them. Even if I got away, Grunt was still outside. Seeing that I had nowhere to run, Geoff slowed his steps and let Sarge catch up with him. He stood over me, glaring down at me.
“You dumb fucking cunt. We took you in, and this is how you repay us? I fucking helped you, and you turn on me the first chance you get? You call yourself my Brother?”
With a look of deep disgust, he hawked up a big blob of phlegm and spit it into my face.
Rage filled me. Fucking high and mighty assholes. As if they wouldn’t have dropped me at the first chance they got. They didn’t even give me a chance to explain that it had all been John’s doing. They’d just immediately sent the hounds after me. Vilified me. Made me the bad guy.
I wiped the spit off my face and tried to push myself up to a sitting position. As I put my hand on the floor, it closed on something round. A plastic bottle. Of course! It was the bottle of white spirits I’d used to clean up little mistakes while painting the circle! I’d left it at the edge of the circle after I finished, and it must have fallen over and rolled into my path.
When Geoff turned his head for a second to check where Sarge was, I acted mostly on instinct. I grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off. When he looked back in my direction, I threw the contents in his face.
He screamed as the spirits burned his eyes, temporarily blinded. His hands shot up to cover his face, dropping the hammer he’d been holding.
Meanwhile, Sarge had closed the distance, and the look in his eyes spelled cold murder. Dispassionate. He wouldn’t make mistakes or get emotional. He’d just kill me. Strictly business.
He was closing in rapidly. A few more steps, and he’d be on me. Geoff was still furiously rubbing his eyes and cursing at me. Yelling how badly he’d fuck me up. Then I remembered Grunt, wanting to light a cigarette. The cigarette. Tinderbox.
I wasn’t a smoker, but my Dad had been. When he died, one of the few things I had kept was his old zippo lighter. Since the rite required candles, I’d filled it and put it in my pocket, thinking the old man could finally contribute something positive to my life for once.
I got to my feet and fished the lighter of my pocket. With desperate strength, I shoved Geoff. He couldn’t see me coming, so it took him by surprise. He stumbled back a few steps, crashing right into Sarge. That gave me a few seconds to act. I prayed that the lighter would catch. I struck it, and after two heart-stopping attempts, it did. I threw it right into Geoff’s face, and he lit up like a Roman candle. The stink of burning hair mixed with the chemical smell of the white spirits filled the air, making me gag.
Geoff’s screams went from an angry roar to a high-pitched shriek that set my teeth on edge. He thrashed wildly, taking Sarge down to the floor with him. Sarge kicked at him, trying to get Geoff off him.
For a few seconds, I just stood there. Frozen in place. Watching Geoff thrash and scream as the fire burned his skin. Turning it from red to black, consuming his clothes, the fabric burning itself into his skin. His screams were horrific. There was nothing recognizably human left in them, just pure animalistic agony.
Sarge was cursing at him, trying to free himself, but Geoff’s wild thrashing made it near impossible to get a grip on him. He clung to Sarge, as if just holding on tight enough would make the suffering stop.
I shook myself out of my morbid fascination. I needed to get the fuck out of here, now. Grunt could be back any second. There was no way he could have missed that screaming.
I made for the door, only pausing to pick up the hammer that Geoff dropped. Behind me, Sarge had managed to untangle himself. He looked much worse for wear. His clothes were singed, and he had angry red marks all over his face where Geoff’s flaming skin had touched him. Now, there was anger in his eyes, a deep rage that promised a level of violence and torture far beyond strictly business.
Meanwhile, Geoff had rolled into a crate that had caught fire. Smoke started to fill the room. Still, no sign of Grunt.
I reached the door. I pulled it hard, and with a squeal of protest, it opened just far enough for me to slip through. Sarge was closing in fast, and I pulled it closed with all my strength. I managed to slam it shut just before he reached me.
I heard him slam into the door, trying to pull it open. Quickly, I put on the chain and lock. Flames became more and more visible through the windows. I could still hear Geoff’s agonising screams, mixed with Sarge’s angry threats and curses. Violent fits of coughing started to break up the string of oaths as smoke filled the warehouse.
I turned my back on the door, and finally, I understood why Grunt had not shown up. He was standing near the bushes, wearing a pair of Bluetooth headphones, shaking the last drops of urine from his dick before zipping up. His posture was relaxed and bored. He was clearly still unaware of what was going on.
As quietly as I could, I snuck up on him and raised the hammer. I meant to silently knock him out, but I must have made too much noise. At the last second, he turned around. I tried to correct my aim, but I was already mid-swing. I ended up hitting the side of his eye-socket. The hammer connected with a sickening crunch, and his eyeball was forced from the socket amidst a gush of blood.
He dropped to his knees, and I kicked him in the chin. He went down, out cold. The sight of his eye dangling from the optic nerve turned my stomach. I had to turn around to puke on the ground.
Shaking, I got up and wiped my mouth. Then, I limped to my car. The plan was even more fucked than before. Luckily, most of the ingredients were the kind of things you can only buy in bulk. The jars in the warehouse contained the exact amounts needed for the ritual, precisely measured, but the original bags were still in the back of my car. I could still make it work.
I’d find a new spot and redraw the circle. The beach. Yes, that’s where I would do it. End it at the same place where it all started.
Dark clouds gathered as I got behind the wheel. Time to go get John’s bones.
]]>This is chapter 16 out of 21. - I post a chapter per week.
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A million thoughts were racing through my brain all at once. This changed the whole plan. The moment she’d become fully awake, it was just a matter of time before I found myself locked in a cell. With John back, it wouldn’t be long before I’d be hanging from the bars by a sheet tied around my neck.
I felt sick. I swallowed hard a few times to prevent myself from puking. Geoff was giving me a look that held equal parts concern and annoyance. Finally, he broke the silence.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s waking up, and she’s been saying my name. We need to get over there right now.”
Before he could get a chance to protest, I put the car into gear and gunned the engine. My old car was hardly built for speed, but I pushed it for everything it had. Geoff was swearing angrily next to me, clutching his seat.
As we came up to an intersection, the light changed to orange, and I hit the accelerator. The light turned red right as we shot through. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car swerve from getting spooked by us, and horn blared angrily behind us.
“Slow the fuck down, you’re going to get us both killed.”, Geoff growled at me.
I gritted my teeth, but did as he said. If we crashed now I’d be in even more trouble. I still pushed it, but I didn’t run any more red lights. I’m pretty sure my fingernails left visible impressions in the steering wheel from how hard I was clenching it, anxious to get there.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally got to the care facility. I parked and killed the engine. I needed to calm the fuck down. Slow, deep breaths. I leaned my head against the steering wheel for a minute, trying to get myself under control. I was so deeply caught up in my own head that when Geoff spoke up, I nearly jumped.
“So, what the fuck happened to the plan? We were going to go and collect the bones. What are we doing here now? We’re in goddamn civies, no uniforms, no stretcher, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“Look, just wait in the car. I need to see what’s going on here. I need to know how much of the plan is still salvageable.”
“Like fuck I am. RuneMaster would have my balls if I don’t help you, and that’s not a figure of speech. I’m coming with you.”
I really didn’t have time to sit there and argue with him, so I undid my seat belt and gestured for him to follow me.
The care facility looked bland and nondescript. A slightly faded sign said “Golden Hours”, with a logo depicting a stylised setting sun. Very subtle. The whole place was painted in pastel colours. Whoever had designed it had probably gone for soothing, but the effect was thoroughly depressing. Everything exuded the feeling that once you went in, you probably wouldn’t come out again. Not alive, at least.
I asked for Suzie’s room number at the reception, and the woman at the desk didn’t even bother to look up from her phone. She just gave me a room number and vaguely pointed down the hall.
When I got to the room, I almost ran into a short, plump woman who had just stepped through the doorway. It took me a second to recognize Deborah. It had been a long time since I’d seen her, and her dark hair had gone almost completely grey. Worry had etched deep lines into her face, but the wrinkles at her eyes still showed her nature. Caring, sweet, and quick to laugh.
I could see the confusion in her face for a beat, and then she recognized me. Completely unexpectedly, she pulled me into a big hug.
“Oh, I didn’t expect you to immediately come here! Thank you, that means so much to me. You always were a good kid.”
Taken aback, I just made some nondescript mumbling sounds. Meanwhile, she went on, obviously happy just to have someone to talk to.
“I debated for a while if I should call you, but I know how close you still were. And after what that monster John did to her… my poor girl.”
She choked up for a moment, and I awkwardly patted her back. Then, she regained her composure and led me into the room. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. I hadn’t seen Suzie since that night, and she looked so small, so frail. Her muscle tone was gone from lack of movement. Her hair looked clean but lacked its old lustre. Her eyes were closed, but I could see her eyeballs moving under the lids.
Deborah stepped closer.
“It’s a hard thing to see, isn’t it? I always thought John was a good man, but it just shows how wrong you can be. How could I have missed it for all these years?”
She let out a deep sigh and went on.
“You know, it keeps me up at night. How I didn’t see it. If only I had spotted his true nature earlier, my baby wouldn’t be like this.”
She deflated a bit, letting her shoulders slump.
“I’m sorry to unload on you like this. Hey, I was on my way out to run some errands. Since you’re here now, would you do me a huge favour? If you can, and you have the time, would you mind sitting with her for a bit? Talk to her for a while about old times? Maybe it will spark something.”
She gave me a tired smile and then seemed to notice Geoff for the first time. He’d been watching this whole interaction from a small distance, with a blank expression on his face.
“Who’s your friend? Never mind, where are my manners? Hi, I’m Deborah.”
She shook Geoff’s hand, and he just let out a gruff “Geoff”.
“We… we work together.” I supplied.
“Ah, I see. I’m sorry to impose on your time, Geoff, but this is my first spark of hope in a long time. I hope it’s OK to stay here for a little while? Even 30 minutes would already help so much.”
Geoff nodded assent, and I told her it was OK. I’d stay and talk to Suzie for a while. She gave me a warm smile that took 20 years off her face.
“Thank you so much. I’ll be back in about 2 hours. Text me if anything changes.”
After Deborah left, I walked to the other side of the bed to get a better look at Suzie. Geoff stayed where he was, but I could see his eyes scan over Suzie’s body.
“So that’s her, huh? I don’t see what the fuss is about.”
Anger flared in my chest, and I looked up, meaning to tell him to shut the fuck up. The words never made it out.
There, standing right next to Geoff, was John. I fucking knew it. I had been right that it had just been a matter of time before he showed up again. Seeing him made my blood run cold. What would he do? Was he going to try and finish what he had started, right here? I was wide awake and stone-cold sober, but with the protections from the runes gone, all bets were off.
He fixed me with that stare of his, then bent down to kiss Suzie’s forehead. There was an immediate reaction. Her eyes started moving more rapidly, and her breathing sped up like she was having a bad dream. Her lips moved, mumbling something over and over again.
Trying to keep an eye on John, I leaned closer to hear what she was saying.
“Please, no! Stop! You’re hurting John! Please, stop!”
My stomach sank. If anybody heard that, I was fucked. Panic gripped me. I needed to do something. Without thinking, my hand dropped to my belt. Ever since the rituals, I’d kept the hunting knife with me. I’d bought a sheath that connected to my belt, and I’d taken to wearing it at the small of my back, hidden beneath my shirt. It made me feel safe. Now, my hand dropped to the hilt almost by its own accord.
The plan was fucked, but I still needed her heart. John was here with me, I needed to strike at him before he had a chance to strike at me. Taking her heart here… it would be messy, and I’d need to get out of here, fast. What a clusterfuck! Goddamnit John, why did you need to show up now? Why do you always fuck everything up for me?
Then, I gave it some more thought and realised that wouldn’t work at all. Her heart was no good to me dead, I needed to smother her heartbeat in Wodan’s name. I couldn’t have her talking, maybe her tongue? Cutting it out completely would be a mess too, but maybe if I only severed the frenulum? That would prevent her from speaking, right?
As I was debating, I drew the knife from its sheath. Then, I saw movement. One second, John was still standing next to Geoff. The next moment, he stepped into him. At the same time, I saw Geoff’s (no, John’s!) eyes go to the knife and go wide. He opened his mouth to say something, and I just knew he was going to call the staff in here. Without thinking, I threw the knife at him. Hunting knives aren’t made for throwing, so it hit the wall harmlessly, hilt first.
That bought me a little time, since he reflexively turned his head to see where the knife had landed. Fuck! I had basically just handed him a weapon. Frantically, I looked around for something, anything, that I could use to stop him.
I spotted a vase of flowers on the night-stand. I grabbed it and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face just as he looked my way again. He doubled over and grabbed his head, blood gushing between his fingers. I rushed at him, rounding the bed as fast as my bum foot would allow. There was a wooden serving tray on the other night-stand, holding an empty coffee cup. Probably Deborah’s. I grabbed the tray with both hands and brought it down hard on his head. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on the floor in a limp heap.
I stood there panting and trying to process what had just happened when I heard footsteps and voices down the hall. I peeked into the hallway and saw two nurses approaching, chatting merrily. One of them was pushing a cart with dirty dishes and cups. I surveyed the scene in the room: Suzie in her bed, unconscious but talking, and Geoff on the floor in a crumpled heap, bleeding heavily from a scalp wound. And there, on the floor, the coffee cup that had been on the tray.
If she came in here to collect that cup, the game was up. I grabbed the cup off the floor and pushed Geoff as far up against the wall as I could get him. I heard the cart stop, and half a second later, the door opened. I stepped in front of it, blocking the doorway with my body. I gave the nurse my best attempt at a smile as I handed her the cup.
“Anything else in here?”
“No, we’re all good. Nothing in here except this cup.”
For a few heartbeats, I thought she was going to try to come in after all, but then she shrugged and turned around. She continued her round, chatting to her coworker.
What now? This was a close call, and I probably wouldn’t get lucky twice. I also had no idea how long Geoff would be out. For all I knew, he could wake up any second.
The plan had been to take Suzie out of here on a stretcher, but that was no longer an option. Then I recalled. Just now, while I was peeking into the hallway, I saw a wheelchair parked not far from Suzie’s door. Maybe I could sneak her out in that. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing I could think of.
Quietly, I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind me. Trying to act nonchalantly, I took the wheelchair and brought it back with me into the room. Geoff was still propped up against the wall where I had left him.
I quickly rolled the wheelchair to the bed, grabbed Suzie under her armpits, and awkwardly hoisted her into it. She didn’t weigh much, but she was all dead weight. I tucked a blanket over her legs and tried to make her look natural. She had just fallen asleep during a walk, that was it. Act naturally.
I wheeled her into the hallway, hoping that nobody would see the sweat running down my forehead. Luckily, the place was all but deserted. When I passed the reception desk, the woman was still deeply engrossed in her phone, smiling at the screen as she typed away.
Just when I thought I was home free, a commotion broke out behind me. Someone from the cleaning staff had gone into the room and found Geoff. People were rushing to the room, and it wouldn’t be long before someone figured out that Suzie was missing.
I pushed her through the sliding doors and got her into the back seat of my car as fast as I could. I gave the wheelchair a shove, got behind the wheel, and sped away.
Maybe the plan wasn’t fucked at all, I just needed to change the order of things. I had Suzie now. Once I got John’s bones, I could still do the ritual. I realised that in my rush to leave I had left the knife behind. That was OK, I’d make do without it.
The plan had been to stash the bones in the warehouse, and then get Suzie, but there was no reason it wouldn’t work the other way around. I’d bring her to the warehouse, put her in the circle with a blanket over her, and then go get the bones. She’d be OK for a few hours, and the chances of anyone finding her there were slim to none. It could work.
The police were probably already at the care facility by now, and the moment Geoff was coherent enough to tell what happened, the Sons would be on my ass as well.
I was surprised at how much that thought stung. I’d really only joined to gain access to the knowledge I needed, but damn, it had felt good to belong to something. To have someone to fall back on. Even being called “brother” had felt good, though I’d never openly admit it. And now it was all gone.
My brand hadn’t even had time to properly heal yet, and I already found myself on the outside looking in again. Even worse: I was now an enemy. Someone to be hunted and destroyed.
I shook my head to dispel the thoughts. Fuck it. Here I go again on my own. Fuck all of them. I had everything I needed.
Grimly determined, I drove to the warehouse. I was going to get rid of John for good.
]]>I wanted to wish you all good and happy last week of 2023, and good fortune for 2024!
Let me start by giving a quick update on Only the Living Feel Remorse. I’ll be releasing a second edition soon, with some corrections and edits that have been recommended by readers. I especially want to thank John Sundman for mailing me an annotated copy of the book.
If you’d been meaning to pick up my novella, this is a great opportunity: it’s currently 50% off in the Smashwords End of Year sale! Check it out if you haven’t done so. And, even if you buy it now, it will still be automatically updated to the second edition once I release it.
I’ll also make the paperback edition more widely available. Right now, it’s only available through Amazon or directly from me. For the second edition, I’ll also add it to B&N, bol.com, and every other place that Draft2Digital supports. This version will be identical to the paperback sold at Amazon.
I have a few things in the works right now. I’ve started on a new book, tentatively named “Footsteps down the Hallway”. It will be a haunted house story, with a big helping of grief horror thrown in. I’m still in the early outlining stages, but it feels like it could be a good, fun project.
I’m also still working on my short story collection, called “Sharp Edges”. I don’t have a release date in mind yet, but I’m hoping somewhere before summer. I’ll keep you updated!
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