Ruin (The Rhodes 1)

I hit the side of my head with my palm, the knife slips from my hold and falls on the tiled floor with a clank. I sink to my knees, unable to take the assault of hearing and seeing them all at the same time.

“Fuck off!” I shout. “I won’t let you have me anymore!”

“Aaron!” Tristan’s harsh voice echoes in my ears. It takes me a few seconds to realise he’s real.

I cradle my forehead in my palm, refusing to glance up. He must be considering me with the same look Madam Rhodes gave me when she came to the asylum.

“I knew you were insane.”

Instead, Tristan’s features harden, his brows knit together in concern. Right. Tristan also smells like Autumn. So similar to Uncle.

He follows my field of vision, his eyebrows furrowed. “What are you looking at?”

“You don’t see them? Of course you wouldn’t.” I release a humourless chuckle. “You want to know? Behind you are my parents and Aunt. My dead parents and Aunt.” I laugh, but the sound becomes strangled and my voice breaks into a whisper. “I’m falling back into that void, Tristan. It’s like being in the asylum all over again.”

Tristan kneels in front of me, his face a dark shade of grey. I’m well familiar with that expression, he’s nearing the edge himself. He purses his lips and opens his palms. “See these? Everyone I cared about slipped through them. Mother, Father, Thia, little Trevor, and even Madam Rhodes. All I did was watch and scream, helpless to do anything. And now...” He swallows, piercing me with eyes full of fear, terror even. “Now you’re slipping through them as well and I’m still helpless. Not because I’m young and powerless, but because you forbid me from helping you.”

I run a frantic palm over my face. “Your help is the fucking asylum, Tristan!”

“No.” Tristan’s voice is firm. “My help is anything you want it to be. I won’t shove you into the asylum. You will kill your way out of it anyway, a lot more perturbed than you already are.”

At least he didn’t say insane.

“Then what am I supposed to do. How...” I look at Father, Mother, and Aunt watching me, repeating all the madness from the morning. “How can I make them go away?”

“We will figure something out.” Tristan snaps his fingers for me to focus on him. “I’ve done a lot of research about the possible cures.”

I sigh. “Why have you never given up on me, Tristan? I would’ve if I were you.”

“You’re my brother, I would never give up on you.” He smiles, his expression morphs to reminiscence. “Besides, remember what Father told us the day before the massacre?”

“Family is everything,” we say at the same time.

“Right.” A hint of a sad smile curves Tristan’s lips. “How can I maintain our family when I can’t even help you maintain your existence?”

A sigh escapes my lips when I stand to my feet. “I’ll think about it.” I turn to leave, stop near the entrance, and say over my shoulder. “Thank you, big brother.”

. . . . .

Droplets of drizzle blur my vision as I stride across the long grass field. Mother marches by my side, silent. Father and Aunt walk on the other side, reminding me of who I truly am. I’m like them, they say. It’s useless to fight them, they insist.

I storm to my quarters, Uncle’s thoughts echo in my subconscious. This screwed up place won’t be my end. I refuse to let it be that way.

The first rational thought that comes to mind is Mae. I need her.

“You need to kill her.” Father and Aunt speak at the same time.

Screw off!

Did I say that aloud? My frantic eyes study my surroundings, searching for a face to confirm my madness.

Thankfully, the estate is as barren as my logic.

Once I’m inside my quarters, I open the door to my room. The bed is empty. Mae isn’t here. My jaw ticks, my hands twitch to crush everything to bloody shreds.

Wait... did I lose time between the Northern Wing and here? Did I perhaps kill her?

My stomach sinks. My heartbeat chokes the air coming in and out of my lungs. I only breathe again when a quiet humming comes from the bathroom.