Across Acheron

Session 15

I’ve always been amazed at the power the human mind possesses over what the eyes actually behold. In the ocean of different possibilities, I knew that only one stood true; the man bleeding in front of me was Cillian. I saw it happen right in front of me but my mind didn’t want to believe it, blocking out the blood, frozen brown eyes, and the body that ceased breathing. Instead, I saw a laughing Cillian, telling me to slow down as I ate my food. I saw a smiling Cillian, looking proud of the work he had done out in the field. But most of all, I saw an innocent Cillian, standing over his little brother as he ordered him not to cry.

At the time where it would’ve been acceptable, I couldn’t cry. I refused to. Crying would make it seem like I missed him and wanted him back or something. It would make that guilty feeling in my chest more real than it should’ve been, eating away the confidence I held until I was shaking in my spot like a fucking Chihuahua.

Cillian managed to make me feel like everything was my fault even in the afterlife. He wasn’t talking, but I still heard him. His voice travelled through the basement, bouncing off the black walls as he said, look at what you’ve done. You’re no better than me.

I had as much blood on my hands as he did, even though I didn’t physically do anything. I didn’t hold the gun, but I knew I triggered it. If I had just been normal like he said, or helped him out rather than fighting him all the time, maybe he would’ve been alright. Who knew; killing that woman was probably his form of freedom.

Keenan was at the body before I could even blink. He quit trying to hold up his glamour, practically drooling as he leaned over Cillian’s frozen face. He swallowed, letting out a sigh full of desire before plunging his fist through a dead man’s chest.

I watched it all, unable to look away. I didn’t even scream when I saw a black shadow seep from the new wound, trailing up Keenan’s arm and disappearing into his skin. Keenan closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure, looking like he could beat off right there even though he knew I was watching.

It was a sight made for nightmares. Keenan glanced over at me for only a second, removing his hand from my brother’s chest and wiping the blood on his jeans. He stood there for a while, staring down at the body before he stepped closer to me, allowing me to bask in the glory of the enchantingly pathetic creature he really was. His eyes were burning bright gold, unable to contain the excitement he felt. His pale skin glowed with a faint hue of thistle, the tattoos on his arms dancing in rhythmic movement.

“I didn’t think you’d live,” he said to me. “I thought you’d die once he did. But I always seem to get you wrong, buachaill.”

My eyes naturally grew narrow by the simple word he used for boy in the Irish language. It didn’t bother me that he spoke anything other than English, but rather because he called me a boy. I was sick of being called a boy, especially with what I had been through. I mean, I was supposed to be celebrating, right? But instead I was sulking, my eyes brimming with damn tears, and then he had to go and piss me off too.

People always manage to ruin things for you.

I would’ve cursed him dry if I had the balls to, but I didn’t. So instead, I asked, “What happened to that lady? Is she okay? Why isn’t she saying anything?”

Keenan peered behind me to the silenced woman. I would’ve turned around too, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. “She passed out as soon as the gun went off. She’ll be fine again once I take her to Niamh.” Keenan cracked a smile. “You did it, Jack. You saved her like you said you would.”

I didn’t feel like much of a saviour, though. Everything started to settle in slowly; my mind was losing against my eyes. The steady pounding of my heart started cranking up in speed, causing my breathing to become hitched and winded. I tried calming down, gripping onto whatever courage I had left. I wanted to leave that house the same way I came in; full of confidence and lacking fear.