45. Hand-in-Hand
Chapter forty-five
Hand-in-Hand
Kazimir
Together, Pavel and I headed up those stairs with Lunita’s sobs loudly sounding behind us. Eventually, the oppressive darkness of the stairwell began to relent, giving way to a dim, eerie light.
We stepped onto the floor and entered the hallway.
This is very different from the hallway down below.
There was no warmth or feeling of anyone living on this level.
Moonlight filtered through a cracked window at the far end of the hallway. The wind howled as it forced its way through the breach in the glass, carrying with it a bone-chilling cold and a sound that was almost like a mournful wail.
A screech.
The hallway stretched before us, more a passage through purgatory than any earthly domain. Shattered glass littered the floor, crunching under our feet with each step.
Dear God.
I damn sure wanted to turn around, but Pavel moved forward, so I did too. His presence—unwavering and familiar—was the only constant in this terrifying moment.
It struck me then, how sometimes, the mere act of someone walking hand-in-hand with you into the darkness could lend an unexpected strength. A shared courage that might not fully get rid of the terror but could make it more. . .bearable.
It was in that horrifying reality that I realized I truly needed Pavel’s presence with me the entire time. Like Maxwell was afraid to walk down the steps to the witch’s basement, I was terrified to be in the hallway by myself.
Did my brain know this. . .and send him along with me because of it?
A part of me wanted to flee, to turn back and escape this nightmare.
Stop it. Pavel is with you. All will be fine.
Amidst the swirling winds and the ominous creaks of this forsaken hallway, I found myself reaching out to Pavel, almost without thought. “Give me your hand.”
Pavel turned to me. “Why?”
“I am. . .” My tongue felt heavy and thick. “I am scared.”
Those words sliced through my pride with surprising ease. “I want you to hold my hand.”
A curious smirk spread across Pavel’s face. “A lion’s heart is fierce and bold, yet he too can shiver in the shadows of fear.”
I frowned. “Just give me your damned hand.”
“Yet, it is in the acceptance and understanding of his vulnerabilities that the lion finds a deeper, more resilient strength.”
Then, slowly, Pavel extended his hand towards mine. The contact, simple yet profound, was like a lifeline thrown across the chasm of our fears.
His grip was firm.
Grounding.
A silent pledge to share all burdens.
Thank God.
With Pavel’s hand in mine, the darkness seemed less oppressive.
I thought of Maxwell, and hoped that I had been this very comfort to him as we went down those stairs to the witch’s basement.
Wake up, Maxwell. Please. . .I am understanding you better now.
With Pavel’s hand in mine, I moved forward. “Cousin. . .”
“Yes, Kazimir.”
“I should not have killed you.”
Pavel chuckled. “If you had not, then who would be holding your hand right now?”
Pain hit my heart.
“If I was not here, you would be fleeing away from the hallway, probably pissing your pants.” Pavel’s voice cracked at the end. He cleared his throat. “No. Better I be here. Better my death. . .serve a purpose to a happier life for my son.”
“My mouse loves him.”
“And will love him more than you and I could even fathom.” Pavel’s bottom lip shivered. “I see it. He is better because of her .”
“And we are better because of them .”
Pavel squeezed my hand tighter. “Come on.”
Together, we meandered through the decaying hallway.
A little girl wept around us, although we couldn’t see her.
Then, the man’s voice whispered from the darkness, “If you tell anyone, they’ll die. Everyone. Your parents. Daryll. Even Max. It will be your fault.”
I gritted my teeth.
You fucking piece of shit.
Rage burned through my fear.
The wind wailed through the cracks in the window.
I let go of Pavel’s hand and stormed forward. “I hope that bastard is still here. I will fucking kill him better than Lunita did.”
“I doubt that he is here, Kazimir.”
The scent of iron became stronger. Then soon, I spotted a solitary door. It was bright against the blackness.
At first glance, it appeared almost surreal, as if painted a vivid, startling red. But as we drew closer, the grim truth unveiled itself.
It was not paint.
It was blood.
Dark and viscous.
Oozing down the wooden door in a silent, relentless descent.
My stomach churned at the sight.
We stopped in front of the door, right as I saw the number ‘0’ at the center and in this tarnished gold.
My jaw tightened. “This is where the original lives.”
“I believe you are right.”
I reached out to grab the knob.
“Wait, Kazimir.”
I kept my hand in mid-air. “What?”
“Are you sure you should open the door. This is a clue. A major clue. The alters can tell Emily where this is. Lunita could walk her up the stairs, and possibly together. . .they too could walk hand-in-hand to this door.”
I liked the sound of that a lot, but there was a part of me that. . .wanted to do all of this for my mouse. I didn’t want her to have to be in this darkness. I damn sure never wanted her to have to hear the little girl’s weeping and that disgusting man’s whispers.
She was to be my wife.
I was supposed to protect her from as much pain as possible.
“Kazimir. . .”
“But, is this enough?” I frowned. “Or. . .”
“What do you want to do?”
“Go inside. Find the original. Save her. Protect her. Love her.”
“I understand.” Pavel smiled. “You love Emily.”
“I do.”
“But, I think this is where your role ends.” Pavel’s eyes mirrored the turmoil within me. “Kazimir, this is her mind, her battle. Are we sure that you walking into that room is the right course?”
“But. . .”
“Healing. . .it is a personal journey.”
I lowered my hand and clenched it into a fist. “But I cannot just leave Emily to face this alone. If the original is in there, trapped in that memory, in that fear. . .how can I turn away?”
“It is not about turning away, Kazimir.” Sadness washed over his face. “It is about understanding boundaries. Healing. . .it is not something you can do for someone else, no matter how much you want to.”
Desperation crept into my voice. “But what if my presence could offer her strength? What if I could help the original confront her past?”
“And what if your presence, as a man , does more harm than good?”
I tensed.
“Remember, we are in Emily’s mind. For Amber and maybe the original, the presence of any man, even with the best intentions, could be traumatic .”
Those words stung me. “So, what? I just stand here? I leave the original to suffer?”
Pavel placed a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is provide space for Emily to heal. You have the clue. Give it to her.”
“But, is it enough?”
“Support does not always mean diving into the fray. Maybe, just maybe, it is Emily’s battle to fight, her door to open.”
I looked back at the door. “My mouse must reclaim her power. Not me.”
“And she must do so in her own time, and in her own way.”
The realization settled heavy on my heart. Behind that door lay not just the horrors of the past, but the possibility of healing, of a future where Emily could possibly live free from the shadows that had haunted her mind for so long.
The original is there. What does she look like? What would she say? How would it help them all?
Pavel spoke, “Sometimes, the most profound act of love is. . .”
I put my view on him.
“Sometimes it is found not in the battles we fight for others, but in the quiet moments we stand by , ready to support them as they fight their own battles.”
Those damned words wormed their way into my soul, and I felt something shift within me. The familiar urgency to act, to swoop in and save the day—it was still there.
But now, there was also a newfound sense of patience—a quiet understanding that sometimes love meant stepping back rather than charging forward.
Pavel breathed a sigh of relief. “You finally understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Pavel nodded. “Now. . .close your eyes. It is time.”
Without any hesitation, I did as he said and shut away that horrid view of the original’s bloody door.
Now only darkness served as my view.
“Wake up, Kazimir.” Pavel’s words felt like a tether, pulling me back from the abyss of Emily’s subconscious, from the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole. A part of me resisted, wanting to stay, to fight, to protect, but another, deeper part understood the truth in his words.
This was Emily’s journey.
Her battle.
I had to let go.
Mysh, I love you.
The ground vanishing beneath my feet, and the sensation of falling seized me again.
And there was no more Pavel nor the haunting hallway.
Instead, I was enveloped by an abyss, a void where time and space lost all meaning. The darkness was not just around me; it filled me, a cold, suffocating blanket that threatened to erase my sense of self.
Yet, as I fell, a strange serenity began to wash over me too.
The fear, the urgency, the desperate need to heal and protect—it all started to fade, replaced by an eerie calm.
The layers of Emily’s mind peeled away from my senses like layers of an onion.
It was as if by entering the freefall, I had accepted the uncontrollable nature of my deepest fears and my profoundest pains.
But there was a clear separation now.
I was now an observer.
No longer a participant.
I was leaving her mind, and the sensation of falling slowed, as if I were drifting through water.
Slowly, painstakingly, I opened my eyes and the darkness began to ebb, replaced by pinpricks of light, fragments of my own consciousness and blurry faces.
I am back and laying on something hard. But. . .who are all these people around me and in my room?
My eyelids fluttered against the harsh intrusion of reality’s light.
Voices sounded.
Two women were arguing.
I shook my head as if that could give me a better view of the blurry movement in front of me.
Delphine’s voice came through the fog. “You think you’re slick.”
Baba responded. “I do not.”
“I saw that painting in the living room. Did you paint all of her alters yourself?”
“Emily did that all by herself with no coaxing from me.”
“But, I bet you gave her the paint and canvas.”
Baba remained silent.
Shapes and colors blurred into existence, slowly forming into recognizable forms.
I can see now.
I lifted my head.
Baba and Delphine stood over me as I lay on the ground inside of a circle. Baba wore a pink robe with some frilly collar peeking out the top. Meanwhile, Delphine had a purple bonnet over her head and a long black jacket over what appeared to be gray pajamas.
Both women had on slippers.
I gazed down at my body.
Oh no.
Snakes crawled over me.
The snakes slithered over my legs, arms, and chest, their scales glistening in the light with a range of colors from emerald green to deep black, gold to ruby red. Some had intricate patterns, while others were a solid color.
Still, the snakes moved like rippling waves across my body.
I gritted my teeth. “Get me out of here.”
Delphine turned to me and sneered on the other side of the circle. “What did you do lion?”