This is elseworld, p.11
This is Elseworld, page 11
They probably were.
A heartbreaking number of forgotten hopeless souls were wandering aimlessly throughout the streets. They were like the brown clouds in the sky, always moving but going slowly as if they had nowhere to be. Asher was just one of many, all of them blind, and therefore without judgement. He walked among the beggars, the lepers, the weak, and the myriad abused.
The Deeps was littered with them.
Being alone wasn’t the same as being lonely. Asher was alone, but he was among his people. These blind fish were just like him. They were one and the same. All of them were swimming at the bottom of an ocean, just trying to make it another day without sinking.
He had been raised to understand that The Deeps was a bad place, and this fact had been drilled into his head so soundly it occupied the same space in his head as “take your shoes off when you enter the house” and “don’t put metal in the microwave.” Now, though, he was beginning to learn that much of what he’d been taught just wasn’t true. More than that; much of what he’d been told was emerging to be a filthy lie. The first lie was about the people.
These people weren’t depraved animals. Most of them minded their own business and were just trying to survive another day. They didn’t look down on Asher or pity him. They didn’t treat him badly or single him out. No one seemed to notice his patchy skin or the fact that he looked different. In fact, very few people even looked at him at all; they just went on around him, living their lives, struggling, getting by, hoping to carry on existing, making the best of things.
For the first time in many years, he was able to blend in. Everyone was like him; they were all blind fish. Too blind to care or even notice. If they could survive like this despite the hand they were dealt, then so could he.
Chapter fourteen
Promises
Matthew
As soon as I got home, I wanted to end that man for good, but Abby saw me with the gun and in a tiny voice she asked, “What's that for?” I told her and the look she gave me was one I had never before seen on her sweet little face and one I never wanted to ever see again. I promised to spare her father, but I also made it clear I would do everything in my power to ensure her safety, and if that meant abandoning our family, so be it.
In the middle of the night, I got my sister and we left.
Abby kept asking, “Where we goin’ to, Matt?”
“Just come with me,” I would say. And she came with me without knowing where we was heading ‘cuz she knew I was the only one she could trust.
Not long after Matthew and his sister headed out, they stumbled upon the man whose hair wriggled like a thousand worms and whose face blended seamlessly into the night. Matt had been careful to avoid the forbidden place, yet he encountered the man again anyway. This couldn't be mere coincidence. It brought into doubt whether last night was also not a coincidence. This man was stalking him, but for what purpose, he didn’t know.
The man called them over, and at first, Matt continued walking in the opposite direction, but his sister’s sudden stillness gave him pause. Abby had stiffened like stone at the sound of the man’s voice.
“I see you found your sister. Tell her to come over so that I may know her.” The mystery man’s voice was as smooth as velvet. His lips curved into a smile, but the vacant stare in his eyes betrayed the hollowness within. “You, little girl, are quite pretty. Come, I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Abby went to the man before her brother could stop her. The man's crooked fingers caressed her cheek, and he smiled a smile that wasn't meant for a child. Matthew snatched Abby away and bolted, pulling her with such force she had no choice but to run just to keep up with him. He cast furtive glances over his shoulder, searching for any signs of pursuit, any hint of the man with the writhing hair. But the man was nowhere to be seen, leaving the siblings alone in the dark.
They trudged for miles through the woods, their footsteps heavy with exhaustion, until they found an old, abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Matthew had discovered it a few weeks before; it was hidden deep in the woods and he knew it would be the perfect place, not just for them to hide, but to live.
The house was boarded up and covered in vines; it wasn't pretty, but it would provide shelter and safety, which in the end was all that mattered. Abby hesitated, her foot hovering over the rickety porch, eyes darting nervously over the dilapidated structure. Matthew understood her fear, felt it himself like a heavy weight on his chest, but he couldn't let it show. Not now, not when his little sister was looking to him for strength.
Matthew stepped forward and pushed open the creaky door, the musty smell of decay wafting out to meet them. Cobwebs and dust clung to the walls and furniture, and the floorboards groaned beneath their weight. He turned to Abby, mustering a reassuring smile, and took her hand. “We'll be okay,” he said. “I'll keep you safe, I promise.”
Abby squeezed his hand tightly, her wide eyes scanning the dark corners of the old, boarded-up house. Matthew led her further inside, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. They explored the dusty old rooms together. Every creak and rustle made him tense, but danger never came. Gradually, they settled in, making the neglected house their new home.
Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. They lived off the land and Matthew taught his sister how to hunt and fish just like his dad had taught him. They were happy, but they were also isolated. They didn't have any contact with the outside world and didn't know if anyone was looking for them.
One night, the silence of the old house was shattered by a series of strange, unsettling noises. Abby clung to her big brother, her body shaking with fear. He tried to reassure her it was just the wind, but deep down he knew something was wrong. The sounds were too deliberate, too purposeful to be dismissed as mere creaks and groans. Matthew felt a growing unease in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on calming his sister, but the sensation persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless hunger.
Suddenly, the door to their home burst open and a figure stood in the doorway. It was Abby’s father, Aaron, only he was somehow different now. When he saw Matthew, the man’s eyes narrowed to slits and his brows furrowed with rage. His lips twisted into a snarl, and his nostrils flared. Every muscle in his face looked tense, as if a storm of anger had taken over his entire being, and the intensity of the stare felt as if it could pierce through anything in its path. Like a bull seeing red, he charged straight at Matthew, ready to destroy anything in his way.
Matthew had to act fast. Without thinking, he ripped a nearby board from the wall and swung it with all his might. The crack of wood against flesh echoed through the silent house. The intruder stumbled backward, blood spilling from his nose as he wiped it away with a shaking hand.
Recovering quickly, he lunged at Matthew, but the boy darted around an old moldy couch, his stepfather hot on his heels. Matthew wasn’t far from his days of being slow and pudgy, but with his adrenaline surging he felt like he could run forever.
Abby's scream pierced through the chaos. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop it. Please. Both of you. Stop it!”
But her father didn’t stop, so Matt didn't either. As Matthew raced around the furniture, he heard a low growl from his stepfather, and then a loud crash when the man tripped over the edge of a rug and lay sprawled on the floor at Matthew's ankles. Matthew didn't hesitate. He dashed toward the end of the couch and leaped over it, landing on the other side with a thud.
The man got up slowly, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Aaron was disoriented, but it wouldn't last long. Matthew spotted a nearby lamp and grabbed it, wielding it like a weapon. As his stepfather closed in, he swung the lamp, hitting the man in the shoulder. It wasn’t enough; Aaron kept coming and Matthew backed away, grasping the lamp tightly. His stepfather reached out to grab him, but Matthew swung the lamp once again, this time hitting him in the head.
Aaron fell to the ground, moaning and clutching his skull. “You little bastard. You’re not going to get away with this.”
The sound of Abby’s screams filled the room, but instead of seeking out Matthew, she retreated to her father's side. She brought him a towel and tended to his wounds. Aaron looked up at him, and there was an evil glint in his eyes. It was as if the man were taunting him.
Matthew stood there for a moment and watched. He had promised to protect his sister, and that was what he intended to do. He couldn't risk her safety by allowing her abuser back into their lives. He left the room and found the spot where he had stashed his gun. Matthew came back and Aaron was sitting on the couch. When he saw Matthew with the gun, his stepfather laughed.
Abby didn’t laugh though. “Don’t,” she said in a tiny voice. “You promised.”
“I remember my promise.” He did. Matthew remembered his promise, and he intended to keep it. Though perhaps not the particular promise Abby was referring to. “Abby, get away from him. Now.”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her father. The man hugged her and rested his hand on a place where a father should never touch his daughter. Matthew shouted at Abby to move, but she refused to budge. However, when her father instructed her to step aside, she complied immediately.
Aaron had a hold on her that Matthew would never understand. If he had doubts before, they were now gone. With the gun pointed at his stepfather, he knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. As the blast reverberated through the empty house, Matthew's eyes shot open. Before him, a massive red stain spread across the couch. His stepfather, now lifeless, slid down to the floor.
Matthew couldn't believe what he had just done. The weight of the gun in his hand suddenly felt much heavier as the reality of the situation sank in. There were no regrets, but still it felt surreal. He had done it. He had really done it. He’d killed a man. Matthew turned to Abby, who wasn't crying or screaming like he’d expected; instead, she had that look on her face, the one Matthew had hoped to never see again.
He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he couldn't move. All he could do was stare at his stepfather’s corpse. The man who had caused them so much pain was now gone forever, but at what cost?
“You promised me you wouldn't kill my father. You lied to me.” Abby's voice was low and steady, but the accusation hit like a sledgehammer.
At first, he didn't know how to respond to her accusation, so he just stood there in silence, staring at nothing. Then he looked over at her and saw the hurt and disgust in her eyes. He had to explain himself, though he wasn't sure if she would ever forgive him. “Abby, I had to do it. He was going to hurt you again, and I couldn't let that happen. I know what I did was terrible, but I hope you can understand I did what I thought was necessary to protect you. I promised I wouldn’t kill him, but I also promised you I would keep you safe.”
“Your promises don't mean anything. You're a murderer, and I can't trust you. I hate you, Matt, I hate you!” Abby ran out the front door.
Matthew chased after her but couldn’t keep up, and she completely disappeared into the woods. He knew Abby was heading back home, the only place she knew, and without her father it would now be safe. What concerned Matthew was that she had strayed off the path he had shown her and ventured into the forbidden areas once again.
He didn't want her to be discovered by the strange man in the woods, the one whose presence made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. To his surprise, it didn’t take long before he was discovered by the ominous figure. That was a blessing, in a way. Perhaps his sister was too fast, too elusive to be caught by anyone unless she wanted to be. Matthew would certainly prefer the man came across him rather than find his sister.
The man's form loomed ominously from the shadows of the trees, and he beckoned Matthew with a crooked finger. Despite his better judgement, Matthew felt pulled toward the stranger, his steps slow and cautious. The woods seemed to grow darker and more menacing as he approached, and he couldn't shake the thought he was walking toward his own doom. His heart thudded in his chest, and his palms grew slick with sweat, but still he pressed on. It was only when he stood before the man that he realized he had come of his own free will.
For reasons unknown, he felt compelled to tell the stranger everything that happened since they’d last seen each other. The man didn't say anything while Matthew talked; he just silently nodded.
Only when Matthew finished spilling his guts did the man finally speak. “You're going to have to bury him. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” The man's voice was low and measured. “You’re just waiting for my permission, but you don’t need it. This has all been foretold.”
Matthew tilted his head slightly and his lips formed a small, perplexed frown. “I thought you said that hole was for my father?”
“Is the man you killed not your mother’s husband?”
For some reason, Matthew was surprised. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t realized the mysterious man had been talking about his stepfather when he mentioned knowing his father. Though he had often referred to him as his stepfather, he never truly thought of him that way. “Bring my stepfather back to life? Why would I want to do that? I'm glad he's dead.”
“Your stepfather is dead, but now so is your sister.”
“What are you talking about?” Anger made Matthew’s voice raspy. “My sister isn't dead!”
“Your sister is dead. Dead inside. Dead to you. You’ve lost her, lost her forever, unless you bury her father in the soil I showed you. When he returns, he won't be the man you knew. The earth will purify him, and he'll be reborn, better than before.”
Matthew's doubts lingered like a stubborn stain, refusing to fade away. The man's words had a chilling effect on him, yet a small, twisted part of his mind couldn't help but ponder if there was a flicker of truth in them.
Would it be possible to resurrect a better version of his stepfather? The thought made his skin crawl, but the idea lingered in the back of his mind like a sinister whisper. He knew deep down it was impossible, and these were likely just the ramblings of a madman in the woods. Still, the thought of bringing the dead back to life was an alluring yet sickening prospect.
“You look unconvinced.” The mysterious man spoke in a low, almost conspiratorial tone, as if he were sharing a secret. “You can't just leave a dead body lying around, son. You know that. Someone will find him, and they'll come looking for you. And what then? Your sister will have lost her father and her brother.” His eyes bore into Matthew's. “You must bury him. You must. There is no other option.”
Matthew might have grown in stature to the size of an adult, but his mind was still that of a child and vulnerable to the influence of others. Despite an initial hesitation, he ultimately agreed to bury his stepfather—whether to fulfill the mysterious man's strange request and resurrect his stepfather or to hide his perceived crime, he wasn't sure.
The man in black lent a hand to Matthew, and together they buried Abby’s father deep in the soil at the designated location. Even with assistance, Matthew was bone-tired after carrying a full-grown man across the woods. Once they were finished and had completely covered the body with dirt, he leaned against the same tree as before and closed his eyes for what he thought was just a second.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he was outside his house, but his memory was hazy, like a dream that he couldn't quite grasp. Matthew fumbled through his pockets for his keys, then stumbled through the doorway into the house, where he found his mother waiting for him at the kitchen table.
She had a drink in her hand, and it wasn’t coffee. The pungent scent of hard liquor hit his nostrils from half a room away. She wasted no time grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Where have you been all night? I was so worried.”
“All night? We’ve been away for weeks. Did you not notice we were gone until now?” He squeezed the words out, his breaths coming in short gasps.
His mother's hand came down hard on his cheek. “Boy, you trying to be funny? Now is not the time,” she slurred, the alcohol muddling her words. “Tell me what happened to your sister. Where did you two go last night?”
“We left weeks ago,” Matthew said. “You know why we left. What else was I supposed to do? I did what needed to be done to protect my sister from that monster who was touching her.”
“For the thousandth time, Matthew, Aaron never did anything inappropriate with your sister. You think I would allow anyone to abuse my little girl? I know everything that goes on in my house. He spanked you all those years ago because we felt you needed discipline. I told him to do it. You were a little brat who wouldn’t listen, and you’re still a brat who doesn’t listen. But that doesn’t give you the right to accuse a good man of something so terrible.”
Matthew's stomach sank as his mother spoke. Could Abby have been lying to him this whole time? Why would she do that? No, that didn’t make any sense.
“Look at me when I talk to you, Matthew Russo, or I swear I’ll slap the sense into you! I don’t care how big you get, you’re going to listen to your mother when she’s talking.” Grabbing him by the chin, she forced him to meet her eyes. “Your sister has been in her room sitting in the corner since she got home, shaking like a leaf, and refusing to speak to anyone. Neither her father nor I can get through to her. She was with you, so you must know what happened. Don't you dare tell me you don't know what's going on.”
“What do you mean her father? Is he here?” His voice trembled. Matthew could taste the words stumbling out of his mouth too quickly, as if he couldn't keep up with his own thoughts. As far as he knew, his stepfather was dead and buried. But then again, his memory was hazy, and he couldn't recall the events of the past weeks as clearly as before. He didn’t even recall how he had gotten home. His mind was a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts and incomplete memories.
