Tag: aph
Brighter Daze – Day 7 Spamano One-Shot
Demons and Angels prompt!
Summary: Lovino loses his family in a devastating car accident. He becomes homeless and loses hope until a voice guides him on the right path again. It just so happens that Lovino has an uncanny habit of attracting trouble. (angel Spain! x human Romano!)
When life gets you down, an optimist would tell you to get right back up again and to keep on fighting. But, how could one fight when there was nothing to fight for? – the pessimist in myself asked. And for the longest time, I let that negativity win.
Life is a bitch to me, it always has been. The last straw was five years ago; I had been driving home with my Nonno and little brother, Feliciano. We were enjoying ourselves. Well, at least they were enjoying themselves, as we had just come back from one of Feliciano’s art exhibits. God, he was only sixteen. He was just so full of life and potential. Of course, fate just had to fuck everything up by ruining it all.
At 9:30 PM, on February 12th, 2012, we were struck by a drunk driver.
At 9:31 PM, I had lost everything I’ve ever cared for.
Feliciano and Nonno died on impact – so did the driver who had killed them.
At seventeen, I became an orphan. The foster system wanted nothing to do with me since I turned 18 a month later. I had no money, no home, and nothing to call my own. I lived on the streets, pickpocketing what I could to survive.
I was miserable. I felt useless. I had never been wanted. Feliciano had always been the brighter, livelier, and kinder sibling. I was used to being overlooked by everyone. And could I blame them? I was a sorry excuse for a person; lazy, short-tempered, and entitled. I let my family do everything for me. Whether it was chores or cooking meals, I never helped out with anything – I had taken it all for granted.
Being alone and having no one made me realize just how dependent and pathetic I was. I kept telling myself that I would have never amounted to anything anyway, car accident or not. This rationalization was the only thing that kept me going.
And then, out of nowhere, a voice spoke to me. I don’t know what it was, or where it came from, but somehow, I knew it was a part of me and that it was there to help. It told me that my family would have never wanted me to feel sorry for myself, and that I shouldn’t feel guilty for surviving either.
Instead, it told me to aim higher, to better myself and to reach my full potential. A spark ignited in me, and somehow, I managed to get a job as a waiter. Then I got another job. Then I found an apartment. Then I got a laptop.
Everything just seemed to fit together. For once, I wasn’t falling apart. That voice resonated with me, urging me to put myself together and to make the most out of my life. It believed in me, and after a while, I began to believe in it.
I applied for university, and at nineteen years old, I got into the program of my dreams on a full-scholarship. I’ve never tried in school, always being paralyzed by the fear of being outshined by others.
That voice, which had now become my gut instinct, told me to put my everything into my studies. Three years later, and here I am, in my third year of my Political Science degree, on the motherfucking Dean’s list of all things. I had big dreams now. I refused to let my anxiety prevent me from achieving what I wanted. I was tired of doubt; I just wanted to be happy.
I deserved to be happy.
Too bad the universe didn’t think I deserved it.
…
The crisp October night was freezing to the bone, casting an early darkness over the campus. I despised winter’s saving time like you wouldn’t believe. It just made everything more depressing when you came home from a five PM lecture; it felt more like it was midnight.
Leaves rustled on the cobblestone pathways, and dim lampposts lit up the bus station I was heading to. I had just come back from writing a mid-term, so my only plan was to go home and sleep to make up for the how many hours I had lost cramming last-minute information into my caffeine-logged mind.
Shivering, I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, clenching my gloved fists to spread the warmth to my fingers.
I had almost reached the bus station when something caused me to stop in my tracks. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a wave of uncertainty clouding the air. Something wasn’t right. I don’t know what, but I’ve learned to trust my gut instinct. It was never wrong.
That voice, it always kept me out of trouble. It brought along a warmth similar to the sun’s rays, brightening my day if I was feeling down. It was almost dopey, that’s just how optimistic and silly it was. I’ve speculated the possibility of it being a separate personality, a coping mechanism to distract myself from the misfortune in my life. It just felt so real for it not to be.
But now, the voice wasn’t encouraging or nurturing me; it was telling me to run, to call the cops, and to get the hell out of here.
A sharp clap to the left prompted me to turn my head. I was looking into an alleyway at the side of the main Arts building. It was a place where professors and students came out to smoke, a perfect spot to lurk in the shadows and keep out of view from other people.
Without realizing it, my feet led me towards the alleyway, ignoring the voice in my head that was begging for me to turn away.
When I heard a girl let out a blood-curdling scream, that’s when I started running.
Nonno raised me better than this. I was taught to be kind and respectful to women, to help them out, and to defend them with my life if needed – perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point.
Call the police! Don’t endanger yourself! They can handle this!
It was too late to call the police. Whatever the altercation was now, the police wouldn’t get here in time. My shoes slapped against the ground in uneven stumbles and steps as I sprinted forward, my bloodstream surging with adrenaline.
I entered the alleyway, screaming at the top of my lungs when I saw a masked figure pinning a girl against a brick wall. Both figures were struggling, but the masked one was the larger of the two by a wide margin, easily triumphing over her in strength, weight, and height.
“HEY!” I bellowed, only to be ignored.
The girl moved into view, green eyes widening in the dim light. I immediately recognized her from my Theories class – Bella Maes.
“Lovino!” Bella shrieked, her short blonde hair flailing as she punched her assailant in the face. “Get out of here! Go! Get help!”
“Like hell I’m going to do that!” I growled, balling my fists. “I’m not leaving you here with this psycho. Hey, you disgusting pig! Over here! The fuck do you think you’re doing! Why don’t you pick on someone who can actually fight back?!”
The masked figure wasn’t paying attention to me, probably because he was holding his assaulted nose with one hand.
“Lovino, you don’t understand!” Bella wailed. “This doesn’t concern you. Please, don’t get involved. I don’t want you to get hurt!”
Bella’s words didn’t register with me; I wasn’t leaving this alleyway without her safe and unharmed.
“You dirty fucking bitch!”
Bella screamed again when her assailant slapped her, hard, an ear-deafening sound I absolutely refused to hear again.
I was only a few paces away from them now, infuriated when the man pressed his face close to Bella’s, one hand now wrapped around her throat.
“Where’s the money, sweetheart? Your brother hid it with you, didn’t he? He should have never gotten involved with this business knowing that you could be used as collateral!” the assailant snarled, voice deep and raspy from many years of smoking.
“You’re a pretty little thing, I’ll give ya that. It’s such a shame this might be your last night alive. I’ll repeat myself again, nice and slow because English isn’t your first language: where are you keeping the fucking money?”
“I don’t have it!” Bella choked, gasping for breath. “I already told you! I keep out of what he does. I don’t know anything.”
“You’re lying. Don’t play with me, doll. I’ll get you to talk, even if it takes me all night.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t know! You’re wasting your time!” Bella snarled, revealing a fury I hadn’t ever thought possible from such a normally sweet person.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER, YOU JACKASS!” I shouted, planting my feet firmly on the ground, panting from exertion.
Get out of here! Go! What are you doing?!
The assailant finally turned around to glare at me through the holes of his ski-mask. “Who the fuck is this bozo? Your boyfriend? Or does he deal for your brother? Better get talking, bitch, because I’m already running very low on patience. You don’t want to test me, the last person who did that ended up six-feet under. But as for you? I think I’ll have my fun, take my time, ya know? That is, before I leave you to rot in a dumpster, along with the rest of the whores who poke their pretty noses where they don’t belong.”
“Don’t talk to her like that!” I exploded. If I screamed loud enough, maybe Bella’s attacker would get the message and run. Campus security should have already heard this scuffle; what was taking them so long?!
“Lovino…” Bella pleaded, eyes widening as the hand around her throat tightened.
“I’m not leaving you, Bella. Just shut up!” I panicked. Crap, how was I supposed to fight this guy?! He was fucking colossal. Still, I refused to leave.
“Well, doll? Who is this asshole to you?”
Bella paled. “He’s not my boyfriend…o-or friend! Don’t hurt him, please! He’s not a part of this!”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want if it gets you to talk.” My heart stopped when the assailant reached into his tan trench coat, pulling out a gun with his dominant free hand. He aimed it at my head. “Are you one of Lars’s boys?”
I froze like a deer in the headlights.
“ANSWER ME!”
“N-no,” I stammered. “I don’t even know a Lars. I just know her, she’s in one of my classes.”
What the fuck did I just get myself into?
“He’s telling the truth!” Bella wheezed. “Please, just let him go!”
The assailant laughed, it sent shivers up my spine. “Well, brat, you’ve seen a lot of what you shouldn’t have. I’ll give you one last chance to walk away, squeaky clean. Don’t try to get all heroic on me. This cunt deserves whatever I do to her. Let’s not be stupid, yeah? Walk away. And you best believe that if I even hear one word of you talking to the police, I’ll put a bullet straight through your fat head. I’d rather not have to deal with you, so be grateful and take what I’m offering here.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said through clenched teeth. “The police will be here any minute,” I lied. “I’ve already called them.”
That’s what you should have done! Why didn’t you?!
“You little shit,” the assailant growled. “Didn’t they teach you in pre-school to mind your own business? Well, lemme teach you a new lesson. Open your fat fucking mouth and you pay the price. There’s nothing those useless pricks can do if they’re not here…”
Click!
Bella shrieked.
The next moment went by in a blur. The assailant let go of Bella out of shock; her voice was penetrating, echoing off the cement walls in painful vibrations.
Bella surged forward, shoving the man in the chest. She took full advantage of his stunned state, easily toppling him over.
The gun went off as Bella proceeded to tackle the assailant, knocking him unconscious as he had smacked his head hard against the concrete ground.
Meanwhile, my vision began to fade.
I went numb, reaching up to touch my right ear. Something warm and sticky began to coat my hand, then my wrist, and then my whole arm.
I don’t know how or when, but I fell to the ground. Next thing I knew, warm droplets fell on my face.
“L-L-Lovino! Oh g-god, no!” Bella sobbed, placing pressure against the side of my head. “Hold on, damn it! Hold on! Help is on its way. Oh god! I’m so sorry! This is my fault! No! This is Lars’s fault… Why didn’t you r-run?! Please, please, be okay!”
Hardly able to speak, I smiled weakly. I choked up blood and spoke in a raspy whisper. “You know I couldn’t just leave you like t-that. Smile, Bella. At least you’re safe. I don’t want the last thing I see to be…”
My vision blacked out.
Sirens wailed in the background.
The cold was no longer numbing.
I had lost the feeling of warmth the voice gave me the moment I stepped into the alleyway.
My body went slack.
So this was it, huh?
I can’t say I regretted what I did.
Perhaps Nonno and Feliciano would finally be proud of me.
I was proud of you regardless! How could you just throw away your life like that, like it didn’t matter at all?! You were loved right where you were! I- I…lo-! I failed you…
…
I woke up with a start, immediately gasping in pain. The ground beneath my feet was hot, consisting of coal stones with several cracks in them. It was almost as if I was in a volcano, except the space felt endless. The air was muggy, grey, like a smog cloud full of carbon dioxide. I could hardly breathe.
I sat up, noticing that I wasn’t wearing any clothes but boxers. The skin on my back and thighs felt raw to the touch; it didn’t help that the soles of my feet burned as I walked forward a few steps, occasionally hearing a sizzle and hiss of fire go off in the distance.
I was in a daze, everything was too bright for my vision to settle.
“Am I…in hell?” I wondered out loud.
If so, I wouldn’t be surprised. I had done a lot of regretful things after the accident, all of which I wasn’t proud of.
I suddenly felt claustrophobic. It didn’t help that I was having trouble getting air into my lungs. What made me feel most nervous was the fact that I had no gut instinct about this place. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or what to think and feel.
I was lost.
“Not yet, you’re not,” a smooth voice spoke amongst the spoke, emitting a chuckle that reminded me of the sound of glass cracking. It had a very thick French accent. “This isn’t hell, we still have to judge your soul. Although, seeing how your purgatory manifested, it is very likely that you will end up in hell, you naughty, boy, you,” it teased.
“Who are you?!” I shouted. “Show yourself.”
“But of course.” A man wearing denim jeans and no shirt popped into view. He had shoulder length blond curls, sapphire eyes that sometimes flickered red depending on the angle you were looking at him from, and a thin, pale, and muscularly sculpted body. A red pointed tail poked out of his – or should I say its? – pants, curling so that it didn’t touch the molten ground.
“Bonjour, mon petit, don’t you look delectable?” the demon mused. “Lovino Vargas, you’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you? Handsome, non. More like a vixen; a forbidden fruit tainted with self-doubt and insecurity. I can’t wait to have my chance to devour you, to cherish every inch of your pathetically hopeless soul.”
I backed away in fright, stumbling over my feet. “S-stay the fuck away from me!”
The demon only proceeded to walk closer to me, smirking as if he sensed my fear, feeding from it and licking his thin lips. He grew larger, or perhaps that was just my imagination.
“Hmmm, let’s go over your life, shall we? You were a lazy good for nothing child. Ungrateful!”
“NO!” I screamed.
“Oh yes! You were, weren’t you?! You expected everything to be handed to you! You don’t know what hard work is!”
“That’s not true!”
“You pick-pocketed! You stole from the innocent! You got into relationships, breaking hearts as you dragged and led them on because you were selfish! Greedy! Adulterous! You cheated! You lied your way to the top like a miserable slug! You’re a disgrace! You belong with me! You belong in hell!”
“NO! SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!” I wailed, covering a hand over my ears.
I screamed in agony, feeling the demon pry into my mind, pulling out anything he could use against me.
And then, I felt the warmth return to me.
“He belongs in no such place!” a familiar voice yelled.
The smoke cleared, making it easier for me to breathe. Stunned, I removed my hands from my head, straightening my posture as I turned to look at the person standing beside me.
They were taller by a few inches with tanned skin, a messy mop of brown curls, green eyes, and an equally-matched physique to the demon leering before us.
The angel, I presumed judging by his white shirt and pants, refused to look me in the eye, glaring at the demon instead.
“Be gone, demon,” the angel warned. “Lovino does not belong with you nor does he belong with me. He is his own person. He belongs in heaven, in God’s arms with his family at his side. He has done many bad things in the past, yes, but he has a heart of gold that is worth more than you beings without remorse can ever comprehend. A person who betters himself is a person who deserves forgiveness.”
The angel turned to look at me, but not in the eyes, placing a warm tanned hand on my shoulder. He looked…sheepish. I was too petrified to question his odd expression. “Lovino, listen to me. You must think of yourself as worthy to enter heaven. Your soul is both good and bad, but if you let the negativity consume you, there is nothing I can do to save you.
"Remember who you are, the boy who volunteers at soup kitchens now, the boy who makes a strong effort to give money to the homeless because he was one, even if he can’t afford it… The boy who works day and night to make something out of himself. The boy who tutors for free in his spare time. The boy who forgives too easily and never wants to hurt others because he knows how it feels to be left behind. The boy who-!”
“My my, I’ve never seen an angel so invested in a human before,” the demon drawly remarked. “Am I sensing some sexual tension in the air? How lovely, you two have history. Too bad he’s mine for the taking.”
“THE FUCK I AM!” I protested, responding to only what I understood.
The demon curled his lip at me, sharp canines bared. “You will learn who your master is soon enough. A sharp-tongue will only attract sharp objects in a place like this.”
The angel placed an arm in front of me as the demon continued to advance.
I panicked when the smoke materialized again, choking for breath. Geysers of fire erupted in the distance.
“Lovino!” the angel commanded. “Do not let your fear paralyze you! That is what the demon wants! I…I must show you then, it’s the only way.”
The angel placed a hand on my forehead. My eyes closed. When I opened them, memories flashed before my mind. I saw myself from an outsider’s perspective, handing food to the homeless, tutoring struggling students, and lastly a memory of where I had helped bandage a six-year-old Feliciano’s knee after he had tripped and fallen on the pavement.
Feliciano. I’m sorry…
NO! DO NOT THINK SO NEGATIVELY! NOT THAT! ANYTHING BUT THAT!
This time, I was in control of my body as I experienced the memory firsthand; it was a memory I had long tried to repress and forget.
I was sitting in the back seat of the car. Blood poured out from my forehead. It was dark, my vision was blurry; the only thing lighting up the area were the street lights at the intersection. We had a green light, but the person hadn’t stopped.
He had crashed right into the side of the driver’s door.
The airbag was out; two bodies were lying in the front seats, lifeless.
I screamed, struggling to get out of the car. I choked from the scent of blood. I couldn’t hear anything; my ears were still ringing.
I nearly tripped, placing both palms against the other driver’s car. I looked through the smashed front window to spot a familiar mop of brown hair lying against the driving wheel, green eyes blank, staring into nothing.
I turned to throw up onto the pavement, collapsing at some point.
You, it was you.
Yes, it was me. I’m so sorry.
Why.
The voice, the warmth, it disappeared again, leaving an unthinkable amount of guilt behind.
I knew now. I knew who he was, and how much he had regretted what he had done. How he had labored about it this whole time, looking after me to make up for his grave mistake. He was the one who had pushed me off the streets. He was the voice in my ear when I had needed him most.
His name was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. He was 21 years old when he had gone out with his friends on the night of his birthday. He hadn’t planned to drink so much, nor had he planned to kill two innocent people and ruin the life of the remaining survivor.
He became my angel when he saw how much I had suffered, still suffered, because of him.
His love, affection, and encouragement was what had ultimately pushed me forward.
And now he had left, too afraid to show himself once he knew that I had found out who he was.
I hated him, and yet… I didn’t.
The next time I opened my eyes, I was back in the endless molten pit, staring right into the smug sapphire eyes of the demon.
“You’re back already?” he leered. “You must have missed me dearly. Come, lapin, it is now obvious where you belong. Let that hatred fuel your revenge. You will have the opportunity to spite those who live the good life, the life you were never given.”
The demon reached out a clawed hand for me to grab, its tail twitching in anticipation.
I bit my lip. “No.”
“Excuse moi?”
“You heard me, no. My Nonno didn’t raise me to hate others just because they were better than me. He taught me to aspire after them, to look up to them as a role model in order to better myself. I don’t belong with scum like you, those who are run by envy and vanity. I will never join you so long as I have a choice.”
The demon took a step back, only to yelp when the rocks beneath his feet splashed into a flowing current of lava. “N-non,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t understand! It can’t be! His family’s murderer is right before his very eyes… How can he forgive something like that? C’est impossible!”
“Get out, you’re the one who doesn’t belong here,” I snarled, feeling a surge of strength envelop in my chest.
The demon shrieked, pinned by an invisible force, claws desperately trying to latch onto the ground that only continued to crumble at the touch.
I clapped both hands over my ears again, refusing to listen to its desperate pleas as it burned into ashes, likely being dragged down to hell, where it damn well belonged.
Suddenly, the air became cooler; warm, but pleasant. The ground tickled my feet. I heard birds chirping.
Disoriented, I looked up into a pure blue sky, quickly glancing down to find myself standing in a field of knee-high green-as-green grass. There was a creek in front of me with one oak tree resting at the edge of the current.
I was wearing clothes again, the same white pants and shirt the angel had on.
Speaking of whom.
I immediately recognized the figure sitting under the shade of the tree, posture slumped as his head rested in the arms that hugged his legs close to his chest.
My gut instinct was back: my purgatory reflected the goodness I saw in my heart now. I was one step closer to heaven.
But first, I had to make amends with the person who had wronged me; the person who had taken away everything I’ve ever cared about.
Silently, I sat next to the angel on the grass, inhaling the rich scent of soil in the air. Everything was so clear, so pure. I was a city boy. I wasn’t used to seeing nature at its very finest.
Still, it felt like I was breathing for the first time, devoid of worries, regret, and most important of all, bitterness.
I was free.
Well, almost.
I sighed. “Antonio, can you at least look at me? I think you owe me that.”
Surprised, Antonio glanced up, meeting my eyes for the first time.
My first thought was that he was gorgeous. His eyes were a rare green, bright and lively despite the burden of guilt they carried in them. His cheekbones were sharp and chiseled. There were laugh lines from when he had still lived. I could tell that he had been a happy, cheerful person.
Brown curls swept in front of his eyes as he sniffled. There were wet tracks on his cheeks, tears still occasionally splatting down against the grass-bed beneath us.
“Why?” Antonio asked with a croak. “How can you sit here and look me in the eye after I killed your entire family? You should be yelling at me. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“I’ve done enough yelling and screaming, don’t you think?” I countered softly. “It got me nowhere in life, and I don’t think it will now.”
Antonio didn’t respond.
“I forgive you,” I blurted out.
Antonio’s eyes widened.
“I know you didn’t mean it. I still hate what you did, don’t get me wrong, but now that I know there’s an afterlife, there’s no point in me hating you.”
I’ll get to see them soon, finally, after five miserable years.
“L-Lovino!” Antonio choked. “I’m so sorry!”
“Shhhh,” I cooed, bringing him into a hug. I was no longer bound by social formalities anymore. I could do what I wanted without having to fear being judged; it was the most wonderful feeling.
“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing circles into Antonio’s back. “It’s done and over with. There’s nothing we can do but move forward.”
My face warmed due to our close proximity.
“You shouldn’t be comforting me,” Antonio said. “You just died. I had one job. I was supposed to take care of you, and I couldn’t even do that!”
I rolled my eyes, beginning to become impatient. “We all make mistakes. You said you’re from heaven, right? Well, fucking act like it. Forgiveness is what you angels all preach, isn’t it? I’m throwing it right in front of your face, moron. You should probably take it.”
I pulled away from the hug, giving the angel his space.
Antonio smiled faintly, rubbing at his eyes. “You were always such a funny kid to look after, making snide jokes and being sarcastic to mask how you truly felt. You’ve made me laugh a lot over the years. You’re still living up to that image now, even in death,” he faltered, sadly trailing off.
Silence.
“Antonio, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, anything.”
“Why look after me? You weren’t forced to, were you?”
Antonio shook his head. “No, I wasn’t forced to do anything. I wanted to. God was too kind to me. I thought for sure I would end up in hell for what I did… I killed two good people, and then you in the aftermath by ruining your life. It killed me all over again to watch you live on the streets, barely surviving but always fighting. You’re stronger than I could ever be in that regard. Despite your mood, you never give up. I used to be stubborn like that until I became your age. I guess I mellowed out…”
“Huh,” I hummed. “Mellowing out is boring if you ask me. I like being spunky; it must be the Italian in me.”
Antonio chuckled, sniffing and hiccupping as his sobs subsided.
“Can I ask you another thing?” I whispered.
Antonio nodded.
“Why stick around? Once you knew that I was better, you still stayed. Why is that?”
“I felt responsible for you. I…” Antonio tanned cheeks became a bright pink. “I grew to love you.”
“Oh,” I stammered. “Oh, fuck.”
Real eloquent, Lovino. Christ.
“You shouldn’t swear, Lovino,” Antonio warned. “Especially with where we’re going.”
“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to freak out, you dumb angelic fuck! But… you are attractive, I’ll give you that.”
Now that I was dead, there was no point in beating around the bush.
“Fusososo! You’re lucky we’re in purgatory! If another angel heard you say that, you’d have chores for an entire week, maybe even a month depending on who heard you,” Antonio doubled over, giggling uncontrollably.
The sight of it made me grin, but I had to repress it with a cough.
“Not happening,” I snorted. “I’m doing no such thing just because some melodramatic holier than thou asshole decides they can boss me around! I’m my own boss now! I don’t have to worry about school, or taxes, or grades, or hell, anything! God damn, this feels good!”
“Ay dios mio. I’m almost regretting claiming responsibility for you. You’re going to make me look bad in front of my superiors.”
“You deserve it.”
“Ay, I do.”
“You know, you’re taking your death surprisingly well,” the angel remarked.
I shrugged. “I’ve had brighter days. Heck, I’ve had way darker ones. But here, this is where I finally feel like I can relax and be true to my self. It feels like…home, strange as that might sound. I’m not scared all the time like I used to be.”
“It’s not strange at all. We all feel this when we pass on. It’s completely normal; heaven and any place under its influence is supposed to provide you with comforting emotions.” Antonio grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Heaven,” Antonio replied. “There are people waiting for you, in your new home, that is.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Y-you mean…?”
Antonio nodded, already knowing who I was referring to. “They’re very proud of what you did. I can’t say the same, because I was supposed to make sure you stayed alive… But you know, all is well if it ends well. I can mope about being a failure once I get you back to them…”
There was something about the angel that looked off, like he knew something I didn’t.
Antonio covered a hand over my eyes. “Don’t look, it’s too bright for newcomers to withstand. It takes some time to get used to.”
I followed Antonio’s advice, waiting for him to tell me to open my eyes. There was a whoosh of wind in my ears.
I felt something soft beneath my bare feet.
We were standing before a tall golden gate surrounded by clouds. This was heaven. I had actually fucking made it.
“It’s so…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Beautiful?” Antonio proposed, grinning widely.
“Yes, that,” I stuttered, brilliant as always.
I absently walked forward, not listening to Antonio as he gave me more instructions. I was too busy ogling at the even bluer sky before me.
“What?” Antonio whispered to himself behind me. “There’s still a chance? What do I do? Okay, okay. Yes, I can do that. It’s for the best, even if… even if he’ll hate me for it. A-are you sure you guys want this for him?… All right.”
“Hey, Lovino?” Antonio called out.
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
I walked over to Antonio, blushing deeply as he grabbed my right hand. He brought it up to his lips for a quick kiss before leading me towards the edge of the clouds.
I looked down into the Earth below, seeing the world’s landmasses without any borders or divisions.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you don’t belong here. You can still live on, Lovino. God has granted you with a miracle. We must act quickly, before it’s too late.”
Reality came crashing down. I was no longer in a dream-like stance as I realized what the angel intended to do.
“A-Antonio! Wait! No! I don’t want to leave! Don’t send me back, please, I’m begging you! I need to see my family! Let me see my family! I don’t…I don’t want to be alone again!”
Antonio let go of my hand.
I froze as he bent down to peck my forehead; it didn’t provide the same warmth as it had before. It burned to the touch, sending sharp daggers of hurt across my entire nervous system.
I couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Live well, Lovino. Your heart will always lead you in the right place, trust your instincts. I’ll always be there to watch over you.”
I gasped as Antonio pushed me forward, falling through the air and down to the Earth below.
I screamed, furious at this betrayal as I continued to fall through one cloud mass after the next until Antonio was nothing more than a black speck looming above, out of sight…
But not out of mind.
…
One week later
…
I opened my eyes, finding myself in a hospital room. The whole right side of my face was covered with bandages, making it impossible to move.
Terrified, I tried to move my limbs, grateful when I realized I was able to. Nothing felt wrong other than the sharp pain in my head, where I had been shot.
Still in a daze from the bright lights surrounding me, I began to breathe in sharply, panicking when the rate on my heart monitor picked up speed.
“Lovino, look at me.”
I stopped moving the lower half of my body, raking my eyes to the right-side of the bed. Antonio was sitting there in a chair, eyes downcast.
I wanted to speak, but couldn’t because my mouth was wired shut.
Antonio voiced my concerns.
“You do not have to worry, querido, you will survive this injury. The bullet went clean through your cheek, not damaging any important arteries or organs. You will have some scarring, though, and I’m truly very sorry for that. You must know that I pushed you only because I saw the small chance of you having a future. Your family wanted you to live if possible. I was only respecting their wishes.”
Tears streaked down my face. That fucking bastard. Didn’t I get a say in this?
Antonio sighed, finally looking me in the eyes. “I can tell you wanted to stay with them… But, now there is nothing either you or I can do about it. All I can say is live your life to the fullest, Lovino. Please, for you and for your family. I’m afraid I must go now. There’s a girl out there, waiting for you; praying for you; crying for you.
"You must help her when you can; she lives in a toxic environment, just like you did on the streets before. She’s a good person who has had many bad things happen to her. You don’t need me anymore, but I want you to become her guardian. Look after her when you heal and hold her close, as a friend or as a…lover be it may. Use the light in your heart to help guide her away from the darkness that fast approaches in her life. More than that, let love fill your own life again.”
I whimpered, prompting Antonio to turn around and give me a sad look.
Please, don’t leave! – my mind pleaded. I forgive you! Stay!
“I know you do, and can’t thank you enough for how kind and selfless you are,” Antonio chided. “It’s also why I have to leave. I don’t belong here on Earth anymore. I haven’t for a long time now. I wish I could stay, I really do. I suppose this is all I can offer you, q-querido.”
Antonio bent over, pushing away the bangs from my pallid face. He brushed his lips against my forehead, cupping my cheek with one soft hand as he pulled away, a great amount of reluctance resting on his facial expression.
“Goodbye, Lovi. God speed.”
And then he was gone.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to stop the tears from pouring down my face, wetting my collarbone and the front of my nightgown.
My quiet sobs must have alerted Bella, because next thing I knew she was hovering over my bed, crying out in relief.
Her eyes had dark bags under them, but the sight of me waking up from my coma must have allowed some hope to shine through. She both smiled and sobbed as she gripped onto the railing of my bed, apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault.
At least I had brightened her day.
That was a start.
–The end
My whole life basically.
Ouija Board Mishaps (Day 6 Week of Hetalia, One-shot
A/N: I wrote this when I was sick and took too much NyQuil xD
Stay tuned for tomorrow. I’ll have a more romantic fic planned.
Arthur’s
POV:
It was a late Friday night, and against my will, my
friends had invited themselves over, as per usual. Correction, I invited my
younger neighbors Matthew and Alfred over, otherwise known as the twins, while
the frog (Francis) came on his own free will, but certainly not mine. Francis
was a senior in high school like myself, whereas the twins were both juniors.
Since October was the peak of anything paranormal, I
decided to put an end to the mystery surrounding the hauntings occurring in my
home. My family has a history of having the Sight, which means we’re able to
communicate with spirits. However, the spirit haunting my family refused to
show itself, – or should I say herself? – so we were forced to put up with its
shenanigans. I grew up with these hauntings, whether it being misplaced socks,
random knocks on the walls, or footsteps in rooms where no one alive was in.
But not anymore. I wouldn’t put up with it for any
longer.
Impulsive, young, and stubborn as I’ve always been, I
bought a Ouija board from Toys’ R US the other day, thinking I would finally be
able to make contact with this spirit and get rid of it. Alistair, my older
brother and guardian, was gone for the weekend, so this would have been the
perfect opportunity for me to prove my worth as a spiritual communicator.
My god, words cannot explain how badly I fucked up.
Regardless, I didn’t know that at the time. My pride
often got in the way of me thinking rationally.
Anyway, the four of us were sitting in the basement’s
lounge, decked in comfortable sweatshirts and sweatpants.
Even Francis was wearing a white hoodie that obnoxiously
read “I love Paris” on the front of it. He was wearing silk pajama pants
though, so I suppose his fashion sense still carried with him wherever he went.
Unfortunately, fashion sense didn’t necessarily equate to class.
Francis, seemingly out of nowhere, had procured an entire
bottle of wine, taking swigs of it as he draped his hairy arms over the loveseat
like he owned it. Alfred and Matthew were sharing the two-person couch, each
fiddling with a 3DS in their hands.
Meanwhile, I was sitting cross-legged on the ground,
setting up the Ouija board and lighting several candles.
“You still plan to go through with this?” Francis asked
me, slurring slightly.
I reached out to confiscate the bottle of wine from him. “All
right, you’ve had enough of that,” I grunted, ignoring Francis’s protests.
“It’s my house, you cold-blooded tart. I can’t have the cops coming over to
arrest you.”
“Ah, oui,” Francis mumbled and then proceeded to lower
his voice to snidely insult me in French.
I padded over to the mini-kitchen in my basement, placing
the half-empty wine bottle in the fridge.
Alfred looked up from his 3DS, his face paling despite
the determined expression he held. “M-man, I thought you were just kidding
about using that thing!” he exclaimed.
“No, you ninny,” I rolled my eyes. “Have I ever joked
about something like this? I’m tired of this spirit messing with me. It’s not
exactly a friendly one either,” I trailed off ominously.
Matthew closed his 3DS, only to yelp when Alfred clutched
his right arm for dear life. The latter had always been unreasonably terrified
of the supernatural. “What do you mean by, ‘not friendly’”? he asked softly,
violet eyes blinking not in fear but rather, curiosity.
I patted the ground, inviting my friends +1 to sit in a
circle in front of the Ouija board resting on the carpet. I needed them close
so that I could explain everything properly.
Once the lights were dimmed slightly and I had my mobile’s
flash pressed under my chin, I began my performance. I spoke slowly, knowing
that Alfred was slow to pick up on things, but also in the spookiest voice I
could muster. Francis and Matthew were both unfazed, taking more amusement in
how much Alfred was trembling.
I chuckled lowly, allowing a satisfied smirk to creep
onto my face. “Rumour has it that 70 years ago, three siblings moved into this
house after migrating here from Russia. There was a brother and two sisters.
The youngest sister was mentally ill, but refused to get help. Her siblings
agreed with this, probably because they knew she would be institutionalized for
the rest of her life if she was turned in to the authorities. The mentally ill
sibling’s name was Natalia. Weirdly enough, the records only show her name if
you google the murders.”
“MURDERS?!” Alfred spluttered.
“Muahahaha! Yes, murders! Your ignorant two-celled brain
heard me right!” I snickered. Perhaps I was getting a bit too immersed in the
story. I had always been quite the shit-disturber.
“Natalia was obsessed with her older brother; you could
even say it was a fixation. When she heard that her brother had found a spouse,
she completely lost her marbles. Things took a turn for the worse when the
brother admitted to Natalia that he was engaged, and that she wasn’t invited to
the wedding…”
Matthew elbowed Francis. “This sounds like a soap opera
you would watch,” he commented.
Francis absently nodded his head, waiting for me to
continue with wide sapphire eyes.
Alfred was full-out whimpering at this point.
“Now, you see, for you guys to understand why things
happened the way they did, you need to know that Natalia suffered from
religious delusions. She saw her brother as some sort of God, an icon if you
will. And for him to be marrying someone unworthy was utterly preposterous to
her. Enraged, Natalia began to break things in a fit of uncontrollable anger –
there’s a dent over there by that wall where she supposedly threw a knife!”
I paused, pointing towards the dent I had actually made
myself when I was younger. I had thrown an overcooked scone at my brother’s
head, angry at him for insulting my culinary skills – not that he was any
better mind you.
“When her sister tried to stop her, Natalia stabbed her
to death. Soon, Natalia had lost all sense of reality. Her brother couldn’t
hold her back, as she didn’t realize what she was doing – she was just that
furious. She ended up killing her brother too before slitting her own throat,
horrified when she realized what she had done.
“And that my friends, is the haunting tale of Natalia A.
To this day, she still resides in this house. If you listen closely at night,
you can even hear the sounds of her scraping a knife against the walls,
taunting those brave enough to confront her.”
“Really?” Matthew whispered to me.
“Of course not,” I mouthed back, smirking. I was enjoying
Alfred’s reaction far too much to back out now.
Francis cooed at Alfred, rubbing circles into his back
before looking up to glare at me. “Nice going, you imbecile. You scared le poor
diabetic fils. If his blood pressure spikes, his death will be on your hands!”
“He’ll be fine,” I shrugged, indifferent.
Alfred had already cupped both hands over his ears.
“Nope, nope to the infinity. I’m not doing this right now. I betcha anything it
was Communism that killed them, stupid Ruskies. This is just a made-up folktale,”
he rambled to himself.
“It’s real, Alfred,” I countered, reaching for my phone.
“I’ll pull up the records if I have to.”
“Screw this, I’m hungry. Not today, Satan. Not today.”
Shrugging off Francis, Alfred stood up and walked into the mini-kitchen. He
began pawing his way through the freezer, pulling out leftover cheesecake.
The remaining three of us sighed, going back to the
story.
“So…” Francis drawled, looking uneasy for once. “You want
to make contact with this Natalia…why?”
“Yeah,” Matthew chimed in, which was unusual for him. He
only spoke when it was absolutely necessary; often enough it was to stop us
from doing something reckless and stupid. Wait…
“Are you sure this
is a good idea? I mean, you said so yourself, she murdered people… her siblings no less…” Matthew mumbled.
“Relax,” I reassured them. “I’m a spiritual communicator.
I’ve got complete control over this situation. All we’ll be doing is speaking
to her. If things get weird, I can always just end the conversation.”
Francis and Matthew didn’t look very assured, but they
didn’t offer any further protest either. They were more intrigued than anything
else.
Before I could get to explaining the rules of the board,
the microwave beeped.
“What the hell?!” I spluttered, turning. “Alfred, did you
just microwave a cheesecake?”
“Y-yeah! It makes it soft! I’m nervous, okay? I need
something in my stomach if we’re going through with this!”
“It’s cream cheese! It’s already soft, are you daft?!
That’s it, I’m cutting you off from drinking any more Mountain Dew. That sugar
is eroding at any remaining common sense you have!” I stormed into the kitchen.
Alfred wailed as I poured an entire two litres of
Mountain Dew down the sink. It fizzled as I did so; what in the bloody hell did
they put in these soft drinks? Poison? Carcinogens? Radioactive material?
“Angleterre, you have no right to criticize him on what
food he eats,” Francis chided, unwelcomed to interrupt. “Just yesterday you
made scones that were hard enough to be used as a murder weapon.”
“I still have those you know,” I huffed, dragging Alfred
back into the lounge like a mother hen. The American sobbed, placing a lumpy
spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth. “Don’t make me use them,” I warned.
Francis raised his hands in surrender, knowing full-well
that my threat bore some reality to it.
“All right,” I sighed, grabbing a remote from a nearby
coffee table. I dimmed the lights further so that the ring of candles around us
were the only light sources in the room. “Let’s go over the instructions, shall
we?”
Alfred grabbed the remote, flicking on the lights again.
“Dude, no. First, I can’t see my cheesecake, and secondly, no again! You’re
giving the ghost chick an advantage if we can’t see her sneak up on us.”
“Fine,” I sighed. I compromised by turning off half the
lights. “Happy?”
“No, but this cheesecake is hella satisfying.”
“Can I have a bite?” Francis asked.
“Dude, no. Get your own.”
“HELLO! If you morons are done with your squabbling, I’d
like to get on with this.”
Silence.
I cleared my throat. “All right, how this works is
simple. We all place our fingers on the planchette and let the spirit guide our
hands to spell out letters or to answer yes or no questions on the board. If
any of you fools even dare to move your hands as a prank, so help me god. The
most important rule to stand by is to NEVER take your hand off the planchette
unless or until we break off communication. If you do that, you are susceptible
to getting possessed. I’ll repeat myself again: keep your hand on the
planchette at all times if you do decide to participate. Don’t ever pull
away your hand unless communication is officially broken off with the spirit.”
Silence, again. For once, my friends weren’t arguing.
“If at any time things get unsafe, we must move the
planchette to the end of the board where it spells out goodbye; that will break
off communication and prevent us from being possessed if the spirit is
malicious. Are we all clear?”
Everyone nodded their heads.
“Right, then let’s get started.”
“Wait,” Alfred reached out to pull down my hood. “Stop
trying to look like a thug.”
“I’m not trying to look like a thug! I come from a line
of druids, damn you! I’m just trying to honour my heritage!” I blurted out.
“You look like a pasty snowflake at best…”
“SCREW YOU AND YOUR HIGH CHOLESTEROL!”
Francis laughed, snapchatting this entire fiasco.
Alfred furrowed his brows. “What does that even mean?”
“GUYS! FOCUS!” Matthew raised his voice, a very odd
occurrence. “Just apologize, and get over with it. If we’re going to be doing
this, we need to be on each other’s side in the event that something goes
wrong.”
Matthew was right.
Alfred sighed, speaking through puckered lips. “I’m sorry
you’re so sensitive, Artie. It must be because I’m two inches taller than you
and you’re trying to overcompensate for somethin’…”
“What kind of bloody apology is that?!”
WHACK!
Francis whacked the back of my head while Matthew whacked
Alfred’s. I hadn’t even done anything wrong!
After ushering out real apologies, we all moved our hands
onto the planchette. Unfortunately, my hand was stuck between the frog’s and
Alfred’s.
Alfred grabbed my free hand with his. “No homo,” he
muttered to me. “I just want to protect ya.”
Bullshit. The yank was scared.
“We’re both bi-sexual,” I hissed with a whisper. “And
what did I say about using derogatory sayings like that!? Tsk, idiot.”
Cue another pointless argument.
Eventually, we all settled down and began with the
ritual.
I instructed everyone to move the planchette in a few
circles around the board before asking the first question.
“Is anyone there?” I inquired. “I assure you we mean no
harm.”
The planchette began to move towards the top right of the
board, where Yes was spelled out in
bold black letters.
“I swear if one of you twats are faking this!” I growled
in warning.
“Dude, I’m not doing anything!” Alfred panicked.
“Mon dieu, did it just get colder in here?”
Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “Well, it was a nice life
while it lasted. A bit more boring than I would have liked it to be, but I
can’t complain.”
The planchette stopped, hovering over the Yes section of
the board.
I cleared my throat. “Hello, nice to meet you. Can you
spell out your name?”
The planchette began to move.
N
A
T
I stopped the spirit right there. “Natalia, is this
Natalia A.?”
The planchette moved to Yes again.
“Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!” Alfred rambled. “We’re all
going to die! I’m never going to be able to lose my virginity! I’m going to die
a loser, like, like Artie!”
“It’s still not too late,” Francis purred.
“SHUT UP!” I exploded. “Do not break the ritual.”
“Natalia, is it? Tell me. Why do you steal my socks… or
trip people when they’re least expecting it? Is that fun for you?”
The planchette moved into the space between Yes and No. I
took that as a maybe.
“Do you not like my family living here? Is that it?”
Yes.
“What do you want from us?”
The planchette began to spell out something.
D
I
“DUDE IT BETTER NOT BE SPELLING WHAT I THINK IT IS!”
E
Well fuck.
“Hey, chick-ghost-dudette?” Alfred piped in. “Putting
aside you murdering us for a quick second, can you tell me what Artie hides
under his bed? It’s really weird how embarrassed he gets when I poke around
there.”
Y
A
O
I
“It’s lying!” I cried out, blushing profusely.
I didn’t even bother to acknowledge Francis’s smug
all-knowing expression.
“Do ya really want to murder us, though? Like, I get it.
You’ve been dead for a while, probs haven’t seen any action,” Alfred continued.
“Are you insane?!” I snapped. “You’re only provoking it,
don’t you realize-!”
BANG!
The ceiling above us thudded, prompting everyone to
scream and jump a little.
Everyone but Alfred knew not to take their hands off the
planchette.
I realized this when it was already too late. “Alfred,
don’t!”
Alfred yelped, only to fall onto his back, twitching.
“What do we do?!” Francis screeched.
“Don’t let go, we still have to say goodbye!” I
instructed.
Matthew grabbed the remote with his free hand, turning
the lights back on. I really wish he hadn’t. Alfred was frothing at the mouth,
a single tear of blood streaking down his right cheek as he continued to
convulse uncontrollably.
“Big…brother…”
Alfred gasped in a voice several higher octaves than his own.
“Where…are…youuuuuuuu…?”
How could things go this wrong, this fast?
“It was a pleasure, Natalia. But I really ought to let
you go now,” I pressed, struggling along with Francis and Matthew to move the
planchette towards the bottom of the board, where the word Goodbye was spelt out.
But, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t move the
planchette. It was like something was pushing against us – much stronger in
strength no less.
“It’s not working!” I screamed.
Francis and Matthew joined my screaming when the Ouija
board was thrust into the air. We all let go, paralyzed in fear as we watched
it slam into the wall opposite of us.
Matthew was the first to crouch by Alfred. “Alfred,
Alfred! Wake up! Fight back, damn it!” he sobbed, slapping at Alfred’s cheeks.
“This is your fault!” Francis accused, jabbing an index
finger at me. “You should have tutored him better in English. Maybe then he’d
actually know how to follow instructions!”
“As if arguing is going to help with anything! Crap! I
think I have a Bible upstairs! We’ll have to perform an exorcism!” I shouted.
Matthew leapt back when Alfred began to laugh
hysterically, sitting up abruptly. A cryptic smirk was on his face as he licked
his lips, tasting his own blood.
I reluctantly present to you, Natfred.
“A-Alfred,” I asked. “You in there, lad?”
“Alfred is gone,”
Natfred laughed in a cold, feminine voice. The lights flickered.
“And soon you will all be too. I must find a
suitable body for my brother. Then we can live happily ever after! But first,
I’m going to need to spill a lot of blood. My, my, you’re all so young. It’ll
make killing you a lot harder. Especially that one,” (she? He? It?) pointed
to Francis. “I don’t usually like
killing one of my own.”
“What do you mean by that?” Francis quivered as we all
began to back away from Natfred, intending to run up the staircase at a
moment’s opportunity.
“Are you not a
woman?” Natfred asked.
“Oui, oui I am!” Francis pleaded. “Si vous plait, have
mercy!”
“He’s lying,” Matthew and I both retorted.
“Some friends you are!”
“You had no problem throwing us under the bus!”
“What is this then,
a gathering of homosexuals?” Natfred remarked. “It would make a lot of sense. This one– Natfred pointed at me
– really
likes shipping his fictional characters. It’s insufferable. For years, I’ve had
to watch him lament about this ‘doctor’. And here I thought I was crazy.”
“DOCTOR WHO IS GREAT, YOU DEMONIC SHE-HEATHEN!” I raged.
“Arthur, not the best time,” Matthew snapped, being the
closest one to the staircase.
Francis, however, gave us both a look, communicating the
universal sign for ‘I’ll act as a distraction and then we run for our fucking
lives’.
Matthew and I nodded our heads in assent.
“Tell me, ah, Natalia, who is it do you think is the
gayest of us all?” Francis asked.
Natfred narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”
“Since you’ve passed, it’s been medically proven that
gays are amongs the strongest of humans. You want a strong body for your
brother, oui?” Francis lied through his teeth. I was beginning to question just
how drunk he was. What was he on about now?
“Oh, how
interesting. If that’s the case, it’s definitely him,” Natfred pointed at
me, again.
“WHAT, WHY ME?” I whined.
Natfred glared, as if what she had just concluded was
obvious. “I just do.”
“That’s not an answer!”
“Enough, this is such
a bore,” Natfred drawled. “You’ll
all be far more interesting once I hang the losing bodies as trophies. I’ve
been wanting to re-decorate this place.”
Natfred then held out its (I decided on the pronoun,
don’t get cheeky with me) right hand, snapping its fingers. A ghostly butcher
knife, one that had seen better days and still had blood on it, popped into
view.
“Who wants to die
first?” Natfred waggled the butcher knife.
“RETREAT!” Francis bellowed, prompting all three of us to
turn on our heels and run up the basement’s staircase – the literal devil was
on our heels.
Natfred hissed, sprinting forward only to have the
basement’s door slammed in its face. Francis and I held the door shut while Matthew
grabbed several chairs for us to block the entrance with. Unfortunately,
Natfred possessed Alfred’s near inhuman strength as well.
“Why run if you’re
just going to die anyway? Face death like a man, you scoundrels!” It
hissed, throwing an immense amount of weight against the other side of the
door.
“NOW!” Matthew barked as Francis and I leapt out of the
way and began piling chairs and tables against the basement door.
Not a second later, Natfred headbutted the door,
splinters and dust flying everywhere as it poked its head into view. Its eyes
were no longer cerulean under the spectacles it wore, but rather a strange
gray-blue. We were losing Alfred more and more by the minute.
“Hide!” I shrieked.
“We can’t just leave him there!” Matthew begged. “How do
we get this demon out of him? You said you have a Bible, where the heck is
it?!”
“Can’t we just sacrifice Arthur? Let’s do a group vote,
non?”
“Ugh! We don’t have time for this!”
I grabbed Matthew by the arm and began tugging him along
with Francis towards our storage room. Meanwhile, Natfred was continuing to
break through the door. We needed to find a good hiding spot where I could
think and come up with a proper plan of attack.
“Over here!” I whispered, opening the door of the
cupboard that lay underneath the staircase leading to the third floor. Yes, it
was a real life Harry Potter room, moving on.
I closed the door and slid down on the floor. Matthew was
the only one not out of breath to pull out his phone, illuminating the small space.
“Well, Monsieur spiritual communicator,” Francis spoke
using air quotes, nervously pacing back and forth. His sanity was clearly not
all there. “What now? How are we going to escape this alive after this massive
fuck-up of yours? Mon dieu, never mind. I’ve already given up. Maybe if I
surrender, she’ll let me drink some wine first.”
“NO!” Matthew and I cried out, grabbing both of Francis’s
wrists before he could leave the room and give our location away.
“Get your priorities straight, will you?” I snapped. “And
stop thinking so negatively. I’ll get us out of this.”
“How?!”
“I don’t know, just give me a minute to think!”
“We may not have a minute!” Matthew warned, wincing at
the sound of a chair being thrown against a wall.
Natfred was free.
“Come out, come
out, wherever you are,” Natfred taunted.
“Okay!!” I clasped my forehead with one hand. “I think I
got it…”
I had to pause again as the sound of knives scraping
against each other echoed across the house.
Natfred had found Alistair’s knife collection.
“I’ll be the one to distract Natalia this time. While I
do that, Matthew, I need you grab the Ouija board and planchette. Francis, you grab
the Bible on the table by the front door; if I somehow fail at distracting
Natalia, it’s your job to make sure she doesn’t notice what Matthew’s doing.”
“What exactly am I doing?” Matthew asked, lips quivering.
“Move the planchette towards goodbye. You’ll be cutting
off our communication with her,” I explained. “We’re still in session, and will
be until that happens. Does everyone understand the plan?”
I received two “oui’s” in response.
“All right,” I straightened my posture. “Let’s save that
moronic tosser. On my lead, 1…2…3… Go!”
I thrust open the cupboard’s door, sprinting ahead to
give Francis and Matthew some space and time to sneak by while I acted as a
distraction.
I found Natfred sharpening two knives in the kitchen.
When it spotted me walking into view from the hallway, it grinned widely,
murderous in its intent. It wasn’t the aloof, goofy grin I was used to seeing
on Alfred – this image would likely haunt me for the rest of my life, which
could very well only be the next ten minutes if my plan wasn’t successful.
“Succumbed to your
fate, have you?” Natfred mused. “Although,
I was kinda hoping for the other two. You might not be strong enough for my
brother to possess.”
“Oh,” I quirked a brow, my strong tone contradicting how
much my knees were trembling. “And what makes you think your brother would want
to come back and live with you? You murdered him, remember?”
Natfred faltered. “I-It
was an accident! He knows that! I’m sure he’ll forgive me! He always does!”
“Hmmm yeah, I don’t think so,” I responded, stepping to
the side to block Natfred’s view of Matthew and Francis sneaking into the
living room. “I think he’d be pretty pissed off. I mean, he had his whole life
set right out for him. He was going to get married, and you just had to ruin
that, didn’t you? Why? Because you were selfish. You wanted your brother for
yourself, and when you couldn’t have him, you threw a tantrum like a rotten
five-year-old child. If you really cared about your brother, you would let him
rest in peace, wherever he ended up.”
I needed to make Natalia furious; to confuse her just as
much.
Natfred’s eyes glowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” it shrieked. “My brother deserved better than that… than
that bitch! Now I have the chance to give him a better life. I’ll do anything
to make that happen! He was a King! He deserved more!”
Natfred’s eyes briefly flickered to its original cerulean
hue.
Behind me, Matthew stepped out of the basement,
planchette and Ouija board in hand. He ducked, hiding from sight by using the
living room couch to his advantage. Francis sat next to him, holding a Bible
for likely the first time in his life as he prayed.
Both were successful in their part of the plan; it was
time for me to follow through as well. It was my fault we had ended up in a
situation like this. It was time to take some damn responsibility.
“You’re overcompensating,” I hummed without missing a
beat. Alfred was still in there, I just knew it.
“No, you’re a brat. A petty brat who’s trying to
rationalize the impossible. You’re a stone-cold murderer. You don’t deserve
even the body you’re occupying now. You know why? Because Alfred is stronger
than you’ll ever be. He knows what compassion is, what it is to truly love
someone. But you’ll never feel that because you’re a psychopath without any
capacity for emotions. You never loved your brother. You tainted his life with
your filthy greed!”
“SHUT UP!”
Natfred screeched. “I should have killed
you when I had the chance!”
I yelped when Natfred threw a knife at me. Luckily, I
ducked to the side. The knife had crashed into the living room window, sending
glass flying everywhere.
Natfred continued to throw knives at me, but somehow, I
was able to dodge them all. It then proceeded to throw a blender and toaster at
me.
“Jesus Christ!” I swore in the heat of the moment. “Are
you trying to kill me?! Oh…”
Tragically, all good luck must come to an end.
Natfred pinned me against the counter. “It’s time for you to die,” it hissed,
grabbing me by the collar of the shirt.
I hovered over the ground by two feet. “Alfred,” I
wheezed. “I know you’re in there. It’s me, Arthur. Fight back, damn you! I know
you’re stronger than this! Y-you can’t die! You were right. There’s so many
things we never got to do together! I miss you, you dumbass. I want to do
stupid things and grow old together, arguing and whatnot. You’re my best
friend, so you better fucking come back already!”
“Alfred is gone, I
told you that!”
“LET HIM GO!”
CRASH!
Natfred let go of me, falling forward as a Bible smacked
into its back. “YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”
Well, that was one way to repel a demon with a Bible.
“Francis, you tart. What in the bloody hell are you
doing!” I gasped, backing away as Natfred whipped around to glare at Francis.
“Protecting you!” Francis answered, wavering slightly.
“Only I can bully you and get away with it!”
Francis everyone.
“You were supposed to use the Bible to repel her
figuratively, not literally!”
“It wasn’t working!” Francis shrugged as I joined him by
his side. “I had no choice. She was about to kill you.”
I shrugged. “Can’t argue with that logic.”
“GUYS! IT’S READY!” Matthew shrieked.
Francis and I both exchanged wide-eyed looks before
sprinting into the living room, crouching next to Matthew in front of the Ouija
board.
“WHERE ARE YOU
GOING NOW!?” Natfred bellowed, but it was already too late.
We circled the planchette on the board before finally
placing it on Goodbye.
“GOODBYE!” Francis, Matthew and I all shrieked.
Natfred collapsed to the ground, twitching once more.
“Aha!” I cried out in triumph. “I hope you rot in hell,
right where you belong. You will no longer haunt this house. I revoke any invitation
for you to come back. Let this board seal you for eternity!”
Natfred looked up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “Brother, I am sorry,” it wheezed. “Perhaps another day we will be reunited. I
will find you, mark my words…”
Natfred made a cliché ‘bleh’ sound before falling still.
I didn’t have time to let out a breath of relief as I had
received smacks to both cheeks.
“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Matthew and Francis shrieked before
crouching over the remains of Natfred, ahem, Alfred.
“Yes, yes, I know,” I bowed my head. “Let’s see if he’s
okay. You can lecture me later.”
Matthew pressed his ear to Alfred’s chest. “He’s
breathing.”
“Unnngh, burgers,” Alfred muttered to himself.
“Oui, he’s definitely alive,” Francis sighed.
I looked around the living room, petrified by what I saw.
The fridge was hanging on a hinge alone with several cabinets, not to mention
the many broken plates, dents in the walls, and ruined kitchen appliances.
“Bollocks, Alistair is going to kill me.”
I received another two smacks to the head. “At least
Alfred’s okay, though,” I pouted.
Speaking of the previous devil.
Alfred sat up with a groan, eyes widening at the trashed
room before him. “Dudes, did we have a killer party or something? What the heck
happened in here?”
Matthew and Francis facepalmed while I burst out into
tears, bringing Alfred into a hug. “Yeah! Sure! Whatever! We did that! Oh, how
I missed you and your idiocy!”
“Yo, are you drunk? Why are you crying? Man, I’m hungry.”
“Screw it, I’m taking a nap,” Matthew declared, slumping
against the couch.
“I’ll join you,” Francis offered.
Next thing I knew, Alfred shoved me off him and stood up.
He ignored the unhinged fridge door and reached straight up for the freezer,
pulling out an ice-cream sandwich.
“I’m going home to microwave this, peace suckas.”
I deadpanned.
Perhaps we should have left him possessed, after all.
-The end
*sobs*
I’m not mean, I swear!
I have no willpower.
#NOT DEAD YET.



























