SONG: Hozier - Take Me To Church (slowed)
Warning: suicide reference.
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Derek Matthews
The Manor is uncannily murky as the night arises. The crepuscule cannot compose that agitating seventh sense of a plagued watch. Each night, the crescent moon can be lustrous than the diamonds in the residence, but it will always be doomed as a full moon — the future, tomorrow, a bothersome enigma. Since we discovered the undercroft, the moon is more sinister than it has ever been, as baleful as the memory of Dad's neglect and abuse.
The dogs are in a deep, deep sleep. I informed the Staff I will be heading to the lake house for some peace and quiet. An odd thing to state. Luckily, Simko, Cox, Hamilton and Lin insisted on accompanying me.
My bedroom is on the third floor. The height is not as frightening as the rooftop where there is mere mist snuggling the encasements on the coldest nights. I would usually climb down and meet Theo in a field, get into his car and drive off to a party.
In the back of a Range Rover, scampering fields and vacant roads. Close to the lake house, crickets hum in the thick stems of the meadow, the body of water meek and eerily calm. Brittle leaves crunch and crack, radiant of autumn.
I hate my birthday. Absolutely hate it. The tormenting history is enough to conclude that November 11th does not deserve to be celebrated. It marks my birth, marks the death of my parents.
Florence Lake ... Callous memories. A frenzied, foolish man can only come here. I have hopes of labelling this place differently.
You see, I attempted suicide here. The second attempt.
I was fifteen. Snow and rain on that day, I was moping like Dad. I had an argument with a stupid boy — I can't remember his name — and ended up in a cold-blooded fight. I ran out of Edgewater Independent, sulked on the side aisles of the very roads leading to the lake house, the water pitter-pattered on a few bypassing cars, my vision blurred of lights, rain and salt.
The taste, the sentiment, the life was as bitter as I am. I craved nothing more than to forget the world, to float in the after. The breaths were sobs. I wiped my nose with my sleeves, the depression sniffling and choking, my ears bled from my father's shouts.
You're a fucking mistake! he roared. You destroyed everything! Look at what you did. You ... You ruined these people's lives, bastard! You should've died instead of Alexandra.
I used to believe Dad. I used to think he was right. I brought pain, heartache and melancholy to others around me as I was in pain. I envied blissful strangers who had unconditional, parental and maternal love. They were happy. I wasn't. I couldn't see what was so special in my life, what was so special about myself. I lost everything the moment I entered this damned world. I wanted to leave. I wanted to forget.
My first attempt: cutting that one vein. Jessie stopped me. The second attempt: Fifteen-year-old me hiked the bleak, shady trees: unmoving branches bowed above, cloaked the ominous air, fabricated silhouettes that leapt from the devouring corners. The thin-snowed ground was blemished with muck. I was so disoriented by sentimental pain, that soon enough transformed to a physical ache, I slurred words: I deserved to die. I reiterated that phrase, or anything similar, as I tottered the stretch of the road, the wintriness jabbed my bones.
The downy, velvety grass smoothed my legs, the vastness of green speckled of ivory-veiled flowers, fluctuated in the sinister breeze. The iciness of the immense lake was melting. There were cracks and fissures, exposing the glossy water. The perturbing black loomed over the earth.
This would be the last place I'd go. I came to my ancestors' abode as they give me a sense of importance — acknowledging their history, it is prideworthy. Out of anyone in the entire existence of this world, I wanted to talk to the dead, regardless if Carlyle or Florence never met me. I just ... I just wanted to talk to someone. I was so alone. Aunt Marlene and Lin didn't understand what it felt like to be a burden, didn't understand what it felt like to have uncontrolled thoughts. Pain is different amongst society.
I stopped at the edge, my reflection welcomed. Eyes full of hopelessness and culpability. Bags stretched. Lips bruised. Clothes rumpled and ashened. I collapsed into the glacial, cavernous water.
The frostiness crashed over me, glum waves. Lips wanted to part for sweet air. I refused, breath held, and ignored the urge to plunge through the level. I drifted through the lake, bumped into ice, body as motionless as the flowers. The stars rapidly blinked, imploring me to save myself before it was too late. My tears fused with the water, my mind replayed all the memories of Dad.
I'm sorry, Derek, he said. I'm sorry. I do love you.
You never did.
It's okay, I said. I forgive you.
I shouldn't have.
I don't deserve your forgiveness.
You are right, Dad. First time I heard something true coming out of that poisoned mouth.
My lungs burned. Heart clobbered in a sharp, relentless, warning pace, beseeched for heaven's air. Locks of drenched hair floated around me. A black halo, as I, too, were a villain in a manner, the halo of sin. Vile blemishes impeded my vision as I, as slow as a snail, turned in the water. My back welcomed the sky, the saturated clothes fluttered in the water. My mouth opened. The water entered, stole the last breath. Everything around me spitefully darkened before a vivid light flared. The light of the end.
Theo found me at Florence Lake. He dived into the water, teeth chattered at the wintriness. Jackson jumped in, assisted Theo to cart me on the cold grass, both shouted and cried. I wasn't breathing, said Theo. The world stopped living as soon as I did, the stars twinkled no more. Jackson's interlocked hands pressed my chest, thumped the ribcage and Theo called Marlene. Water spluttered through my lips, my frame convulsed, eyes opened and life was breathed back to me.
The cars parked on the stone-cramped pathway. The sky is clouded, no sign of a glimmer of the moon. Simko opens his door, his breath fogging in the coldness.
"Sir, how's your girl?"
I presumed they was talking to Lin, referring to Aunt Marlene. (Lin proposed to Aunt Marlene last night. He took her out for dinner). No, it was to me. I frown at Simko. Simko is non-binary. "Pardon?"
Cox closes his door, chuckling. "April, eh?"
Dismally, "She's not my girl."
Hamilton smiles at Lin. "Your boy got a crush on her, Boss."
Lin raises a brow at me. "Is that so, Derek?"
"I do not."
"You do," deadpans Hamilton. "Don't try to deny it. We saw the way you looked at her. Even Griffiths said it's the same way your father stared at your mother."
Cox whispers, "Same as Takada with Madame Everston."
Gareth is in this, too?
Simko winks at me. "It's okay, Sir. Your secret is safe with us."
"I don't like her," I snap.
"Uh-huh." Cox's smirk widens. "You're red, lass."
"I am not."
"You are," sides Lin.
"It's cold."
"You look funny when you're blushing," comments Hamilton. Quickly, "With all due respect, Boss."
"Look like you're constipating and shit," teases Cox.
Lin frowns at Cox. "What?"
Simko kisses their teeth. "I don't think Miss Levesque likes you in that way."
Cox dramatically pats his chest. "Ooof. I just know that gotta hurt for you."
I roll my eyes. "Think however you want. Just know these are delusions in your head. On that note, I'm seeing her tomorrow at the rooftop. I want us to be alone."
"Alone," ponders Lin. "What for?"
"Does there have to be a reason?"
His eyes twinkled. "Is this a date, musuko?"
"Mr Little White Matthews being romantic." Cox shakes his head. "Never thought I'd see the day." He smacks my back. "Get it, lass."
I glare harder. "It's not a date."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm betting a hundred quid he likes her and he's too closed-in to admit it."
Simko lets out a hand. "Make that two hundred."
They smack hands with Cox. These are the men who have been assigned to protect me, and here they are making a bet. Where is Ersoy when you need her?
Hamilton advises, "Takada could give you some notes to be less of a wall if you want things to be more serious with April."
I turn, muttering, "I'm not even dating her, Hamilton."
"Ask her out."
"Hamilton."
"I'll be quiet."
Good.
Lin rubs his hands. "Why are we here, Derek?"
"I'm looking for something."
I approach the lake house. Closed-in? Ha, closed-in my ass. What, do they think I am not emotionally mature? Calm down, I tell myself. They're just messing with me.
I skim through the engraved names on the ancient stone, where the rescued slaves wrote their names. There. On the fifteenth brick up. Negasi Hailu carved in irregular lines. My fingers brush the name.
I unlock the main door, scuttling to the kitchen. Knife out, I dash back to the wall, plunging the tip into the sided cement. This wall was endangered to timbering. I helped Thomas repair this wall. It didn't take long, as a few bricks needed mending. This one, Negasi Hailu, didn't. It was strongly and confusingly glued.
The blade is unyielding. I shove it up through the mortar. The sand cracks and flakes off. Hilt-deep, I angle the knife sideways to the right, my teeth clenched in effort, face muscles hardening, reddening, breaths restricted and tightened. Cox's brows vaults as the brick plops off, smashing to my foot. Searing pain surges throughout my nerves. "Fuck."
The knife clatters to the soil. Flashlight on again, focused on the massive, my fingers rummage inside. What—What is that? I take it out, fingertips glissading over the palm-sized, rectangular, indented, metal facet.
"What is it?" asks Simko.
"A cassette."
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