Post by THEO DAMASCA on Feb 26, 2021 19:26:27 GMT
8th February 2021, evening, Whitmore Campus.
It had been like a punch to the chest. The power of it driving him back into the snow. A thud, thud, thud. Dull against his chest but without any of the pain he had expected from the glittering edge of the blade. Heels had caught at the ground, trying to buck the man off of him but the first hit had landed and for a couple of long moments Theo had found his world going black.
They’d lied of course. Every one of those who’d told their stories of what it was meant to be like after they died. There’d been no white light, no tunnel, no happy faces of those who he’d loved and had been lost before him. No panel of judgment or his life and all of his regrets playing like a movie reel behind his eyes.
Just the black. Just the man with the knife scurrying away from the body in the snow as the world had snapped back into existence.
Theo dropped to his knees in the snow, the cold bite of it no longer sinking through his jeans to leave the muscles of his thighs quivering as a moan of misery was torn out of him. The stain hot and red spread out of the body sprawled inches from him, the snow that was falling still melting into it, everything disappearing into the bloody mirror image of himself. It had always been strange in a way, looking at himself in a mirror, when he knew exactly what it was like to see that reflection of yourself without needing it. Watching your own emotions played out in eyes that were just like your own, seeing laughter on your own face, watching the shock fly over it when you admitted that you’d met someone, that you were in love with them. Knowing the grief that would cut deep and shatter both of them.
Freyja. Oh God. Freyja.
That roar of pain came again. Not echoing among the trees as it should’ve done. Muted by the press of his palms instead. She’d been on his mind as the guy had come at him that final time. A desperate thought of her held up like a shield as if it would’ve stopped that knife jabbing into him. Theo’s hands shook as he peeled them away, fingers trembling over the bloody wounds cut through his flannel shirt.
”You can’t do anything about them.”
The voice sounded at his shoulder, sending him scurrying back in the snow that was no longer bitingly cold. Theo scrambled up, a hand stretched out as he tried to ward the hunter off. It wasn’t the dark haired guy with the false accusations dripping from his lips though. A taller guy, pale of eye and nervous looking. He extended a hand too like the two of them were warding each other off.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering as he looked down at the body. His body. ”I’m … I’m sorry … it’s too late. You’re dead.”
The word obviously pained him. Theo could see it on the man’s lean face as his legs gave out on him again and he was back on his knees. Tear filled hazel eyes rose to him, shaking his head. ”I sh-shouldn’t be. He wouldn’t listen. I don’t know why he thought I’d helped her but it was a lie. I didn’t help do that to the boy. I couldn’t… He wouldn’t listen though. He had a gun, a knife.” Shaking his head, Theo curled a hand around his chest. It was heaving, like he couldn’t get enough air but there was no plume of it in the air like there had been before.
Not in front of the other man’s face either.
The man stooped, long legs folding as he knelt with his back to the body. There was something apologetic on his face as he licked his lips. A nervous gesture. ”He believed what he was told. That’s what they’re all doing now and leaving you …” He trailed off like he could say the word.
God, it felt like you in the plural form. How many had…? ”He left me dead. I can’t. I have a girlfriend, I need to get back to her, I can’t let her go through this again. Her brother…” Freyja had already lost Bo and Frank. Oh God Frank. Theo felt the tears streaming down his face, no longer scalding though. He couldn’t feel any of this, couldn’t feel anything. ”I couldn’t have helped the kid if I’d tried. I’m always there too late … I can’t ….”
He reached out, spindly fingers gripping Theo’s upper arm tight in a way that stopped the flinch that was coming. ”You weren’t meant to get there in time. There’s … there’s a reason to things. An order.” There was a pain on his face as he said it though. ”His death was a part of it but this … it wasn’t meant to be. I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do about it but you’re … stuck. Until you make a choice or find peace, you’re stuck here.”
Theo stared at him, mutely shaking his head as he reached out to clutch at the guy’s heavy jacket. No, he couldn’t be. He couldn’t stay here and watch as the cold turned his skin white and waxy in a way he knew all too well. He couldn’t watch as someone found him and carried him away to a morgue. They would be called, Freyja, Frank, asked to make an identification that would tear a wound wide open in both of them, that had already torn him apart. His own hand clutched at his chest, the sobs coming hard now, his vision blurring with tears. ”I can’t … I can’t do this …” The guy squeezed at his arm gently.
Mutely he rose to his feet, leaving Theo on his knees. Those pale eyes had been fixed on him before they skittered away, the look on the man’s face changing as he stared back towards campus. ”I’m sorry, I wish I could help but … there are rules … I can’t … I’m sorry.” There was apology cut deep in the lines of his face as he started to back away.
No! Theo stumbled to his feet. He went to stumble after him but then there was a crashing through the woods and he was gone. Turning, Theo saw that mirror image again. Grief already tearing at Frank’s face, grief, misery, devastation, echoing all that was tearing through him in a tidal wave. As Frank dropped his knees, those shudders already working their way through him and tried to gather the .. him … in, Theo fell on the other side of himself. Tears trailed his face, that same, strange feel of not feeling them nagging at him as he watched Frank tip his head back and scream.
With a shudder Theo felt his own eyes close and his head bow.
No. No, no, God, no. He had never wanted his brother to know what that felt like. Had never wanted to see himself reflected in a monstrous way in his brother. But now his loss had brought it on and all he could do as voices started to sound around them was collapse down in his misery as Frank held his body to himself and fought with bloody hands and scalding tears to bring back a man who was already gone.
Word Count: 1258