Chapter Three: The Darkened Cloud of Misfortune Hanging Over My head
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Grief wells within me like an ever growing parasite, consuming the little energy left inside of me. My legs weaken, unable to support my weight, and I have to lean against the wall to keep myself from falling.
While I cannot say that Ben has treated me right over the years, the thought of him dying hadn't come to my mind. Moreover, he didn't look like one to commit suicide.
Why would someone who had everything kill himself?
Aunt Natasha glares at me from her position at the door to Ben's room and she doesn't have to say anything, I know she is silently blaming me for yet another misfortune of hers.
Sure, it seems rather odd that from the moment she let me into her life, bad things started happening to her. However, I cannot be held responsible for them as I possess no supernatural ability. Even if I did, there are much better things to do with them than to toy with her.
I have tried to reason with her again and again, but she is convinced I have a perpetual cloud of destruction looming over my head, taking over the life of anyone who tries to socialize with me. It's rather saddening.
Regardless of the ill feelings I know she is currently harbouring towards me, I walk up to her and place a palm on her shoulder, trying to provide her comfort in this time of grief and let her know she isn't alone, but rather than pretend to be even a tad bit appreciative, she shrugs my hand off, her lips curling downwards as a snarl escapes her throat.
Taking the hint, I walk out of the room, hovering beside the staircase and watching as Ben's lifeless body is being dragged away from the scene.
Beside me, my invisible companion suddenly hums, startling me as I had forgotten about his presence all together. How I managed that feat is beyond me as he is quite obvious in his glaring white outfit.
"He was murdered," he says and I conspicuously stare at him with a perplexed expression, eyes darting around every so often to make sure I am not being stared at like a complete psycho. I raise a brow at him, wondering what made him to make such a proclamation.
Sure, I initially found it... no, I still find it unbelievable that Ben killed himself, however, the prospect of murder is just so farfetched. Northview is the most peaceful town in North America with the most dangerous crimes being vandalism by juveniles.
"I mentioned that I have had my eye on you for a while now. For this reason, I am certain your cousin had no desire whatsoever to kill himself. He kept gloating about how remarkable his life was and he had aspirations to conquer the world," he explains and I furrow my brows in thoughts.
I step aside for some cops to walk out of the room. Completely oblivious to my Invisible friend, they walk right through him on their way out. An officer stops by my aunt and whispers inaudibly to her, then clamps his palm on her shoulder reassuringly before departing, taking the remaining officers with him.
I watch everything happening, but I feel more like a spectator rather than someone smack in the middle in what appears to be a murder case.
I have experienced the death of a handful of people; my mother, uncle, Ben's grandparents, but never have I been in a situation where someone was supposedly murdered and it is being concluded as suicide. Shouldn't the police department be equipped to tell the difference?
Then again, this town hasn't seen a real crime in ages. It is one of the reasons I enjoyed the move to this town, knowing that what happened to my parent has no way of repeating itself.
Now that my cousin is dead and nothing seems to be happening to bring the killer to justice, how can my safety be guaranteed?
When the ringing of the police sirens and the flashing lights draw away from the house, aunt Natasha pulls me by the ear, dragging me down the stairs and into the living room, her breathing erratic. I struggle to break free, but she refuses to let go, her rage seeping into the air and choking me.
"Let go!" I protest, but she doesn't, not until we arrive in the living room where she unceremoniously tosses me unto the couch. I raise a brow to massage my aching ear, my eyes brimming with tears which I refuse to shed.
My invincible companion follows silently after, amusement and indifference in his eyes, a combination that baffles me every time. He watches us, his head inclined to the side, but he makes no attempt of coming to my aid.
I return my gaze to my aunt, her robust face is puffy, her eyes are swollen, blue eyes dull from all the tears and sadness. I repeat to myself over and over to not hate her as she is only grieving and looking for who to allocate blame to.
Her usually styled hair is scattered all around her face, clumps sticking out in every direction from where she had been pulling at them. Her eyes reflect her misery and while I want to reach out and give her a hug, I refrain from doing so as I know the gesture wouldn't be valued by her.
"It's your fault -"
"I know, I know. It's the darkened cloud of misfortune hanging over my head. You need not state this," I spare her the trouble of telling me the same thing over and over.
She stares at me, her mouth practically foaming with fury and I can imagine puffs of smoke emitting from her ears. She says nothing for a while, just stares at me until tears start streaming down her face again and she sinks to the floor, wailing for her lost son.
"I can go with you to the hospital," I offer, knowing he was taken there for an autopsy to determine the cause of death, though they suspect the cause of death is all the antidepressant pills littered on his study table.
She looks up at me in distaste, disgusted by my offer, and with lightning speed, her beefy palm strikes across my face, resulting in a wince from me.
I bite back a cry, rubbing at my stinging cheek as I stare at her, blinking rapidly so tears don't fall down my face. Anger threatens to rise within me, but I swallow it back, reminding myself yet again that she is currently neck-deep in a sea of melancholy and is only acting out on the nearest person.
She lifts herself off the floor, wiping the tears and snot off her face. Her snarl deepens as she points a finger at me.
"I don't want you anywhere near me. I don't want to see your face or hear your voice. Since you walked into my home, my life has been a series of tragedy. You are bad luck, cursed by the Devil himself and the moment you turn eighteen, I want to out of my life for good."
When she is done with her outburst, she storms out of the house, banging the door behind her.
When she leaves, I let out the sob I have been holding back, raising my knees and resting my chin atop them. I have lost yet another family member and unlike my aunt, I have absolutely no one to console me.
"That was pretty much entertaining to witness. If it makes you feel any better, I have more important things to do than to curse a petty, seemingly insignificant human," the Devil finally speaks up, reminding me of his persisting presence.
He moves towards me, sitting beside me and I flinch, moving further from him, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the Prince of Darkness. His existence only seems to cause me more pain.
"Are you the reason my cousin is dead?