Gast: Volume 1: Dead to rights. (Gothic Horror) (Completed)

Chapter 7 - The devil's hour.

He once shared this house with Rose. It used to be a place where Adam felt safe. Whenever he felt stressed and worried about the future, he often envisioned the pitter-patter of tiny feet, heard the giggles of his children in waiting. They didn't have names, yet he knew their faces better than his own. He often dreamed that he was reading to them, trying to lull them to sleep.

Now, as he stood in the lifeless house, he began to see his envisioned future, dead and rotting. This may well become a house for children, but not his. He roamed the house and felt only dread and anxiety.

Everywhere he walked, he was mercilessly assaulted by her possessions, by the shades of yesterday. In one room she was dancing for him, using a scarf to pull him closer to her. In another, she was curled up on the couch, holding her knees and asking.

"Can I look yet?"

Adam watched a shadow of his self-grin with mischief.

"Yes."

Rose opened her eyes and screeched, closing them and shaking her head.

"You bastard." she laughed.

Adam watched all of this with a heavy heart. He saw the micro-nuances of Rose that he once took for granted. The way she would chew her lip whenever she was worried. The way her fingers would drum a beat on the table whenever she was nervous. The way her smile would warm him. He saw it all. Felt it all and it destroyed him.

Adam collapsed on the couch and began to clench his fists. As every memory of her began to ignite his brain, he felt the agony of regret all the more. Why did he delay the engagement? Was something broken inside of him? Or was he merely a coward? Either way, it was too late.

The house was silent, silent for all but Adam. For him and him alone it was loud enough to drive him insane. From every room, a version of Rose spoke to him. And so he did what anyone else would do. He blurred the specters, silenced the ghosts that plagued him with liquor. Unfortunately for him, Guilt knows nothing of alcohol. The Guilt remained until inebriated and emotional Adam remembered the gun.

"Do we really need that?" The ghost of Rose spoke to him as he retrieved the box from under the bed.

"You never know." The Ghost of Adam replied.

Adam's hands trembled from a mixture of intoxication and grief.

The phantom of himself seemed to be taunting him.

"You never know." He spoke, his voice quavering.

The revolver was pristine from dust or dirt, the rounds remained boxed.

"I don't like this," Rose spoke her voice full of concern.

"I'll probably never need it." said the phantom of Adam.

One by one Adam loaded the bullets in the chamber.

"You were wrong." He spoke to his former self and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

It was the devil's hour as he stared in his reflection in the mirror with loathing and contempt and pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple.

For minutes he stood statue-like, all the while his hands trembled and his breathing increased. Sweat dripped down his face in a facet. Yet he continued to glare at his reflected self.

"This is your fault." he hissed and squeezed the trigger.

The devil's hour has a certain reputation to it. People fear it without really knowing why. But in reality, the devil's hour is a special time. A time for rebellion. The one time where people can really have free will.

The sound of gunfire resonated throughout the house and silence followed. The silence persisted for minutes until a scream replaced the silence.

Adam dropped the gun to the floor and walked away. The bathroom mirror was shattered. He walked from the bathroom cursing himself for his cowardice.

"Maybe tomorrow," he said to the phantoms that haunted the house.

The devil's hour is a time of rebellion, a time to rage against the invisible chains of Fate. Was Adam supposed to kill himself? Only the god's know. Either way, Rose was angry. She had whispered to him from afar, talked him into the retrieving the gun. Her influence on him had grown as of late. Yet something had gone awry at the last second. Without reason, he had decided to shoot the mirror that she resided within.

Rose shattered along with the mirror. Slowly but surely she would become whole again but for now, she remained scattered, barely tangible.

She floated in the dark world, her psyche broken, her energy drained. It was here in this shadow land that someone made contact.

"Rose?"

"Are you here?"

Rose felt herself being pulled from the dark world by another's will.

"Rose!" The woman grinned her eyes tearful.

"Hi, mum..." Rose smiled back, feeling stronger with every second.

Emily laughed in the pitch black room and began to speak frantically to the darkness.

Although she looked alone, she was far from it.