CHAPTER FOUR
Summer leaves danced freely along the treetops, a barrage of green armour guarding us on our journey deep into the woods behind North Lane. Sunlight poured through the cracks in the armour, painting speckles of gold along the path toward the lake.
Ducks disappeared beneath the calm blue ripples, birds soaring from branch to branch as my mother guided Auden closer to the water's edge.
In nothing but a pair of swim shorts, I followed my father into the water, gliding past lily pads and tangled weeds until my feet no longer touched the bottom.
“Hey,” my father nudged me with a grin. “Race you to the island?”
The 'island' was a green mound in the centre of the lake, with two tall trees and long, untamed grass.
It was about a thirty-metre swim, and when I attempted to race my father the previous summer, he had to carry me back when I swallowed too much water.
But I was older this time. And more determined to prove my strength.
Returning a grin, I launched myself under water, my father granting me a ten second head start before he soared past, his long limbs disappearing in the dark depths.
My arms cut through the water, legs aching as I pushed through the exhaustion threatening to drown me. I gasped for air with every resurface, water splashing into my eyes as I watched my father reach the island with ease.
He was an excellent swimmer. Throughout his secondary schooling, he’d been captain of the swim team, winning gold medals in the one hundred metre freestyle sprint and the longer eight hundred metre butterfly. Olympic level, if he’d taken his training more seriously.
It was quite clear, even from a young age, that I did not inherit my father’s athleticism.
I was not a terrible swimmer, but it was obvious I would never win a medal or compete in any national competitions.
And although he never blamed or criticised me for my swimming failures, I could tell he was disappointed that he would not be able to fulfil his life-long dreams of being a professional swimmer through me.
And I was disappointed too, for not being able to perfect the one thing my father and I could bond over.
By the time I made it to the island, panting and gasping for air, the sun had dried the wet droplets off his shoulders.
“About time, kiddo,” he chuckled, hauling me up onto the slippery, moss-covered rocks beside him. “You okay?”
“No.”
“No?”
I coughed, water dribbling down my chin.
“Ah,” my father clicked his tongue. “Drinking up the whole lake again?”
I shot him an unamused look.
He laughed in return—a deep, pleasant rumble that shot through his entire body, his grey eyes betraying nothing but fondness. It was a rare sound, even rarer that he would playfully tackle me to the grass, pretending to fight like we were a pair of wolves battling for the last bite of food.
My father and I didn’t spend a lot of time together. Not alone, at least. He was always at work, or out drinking with his mates, or watching a game of football that I wasn’t allowed to interrupt.
But in these moments, laughing in a tangle of weeds, feet splashing through puddles of water, my father and I felt closer than ever.
We swam back to shore fifteen minutes later, my father leaving me to sit in the shallows with the ducks and the dragonflies while he helped my mother set out the picnic blanket, water dripping from his brown curls.
“Audie!” I called my little brother who stood alone under a large pine tree, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Come here!”
He shook his head, determined to stay far, far away from the water. The lake, for reasons unknown, was his enemy.
With a sigh, I climbed to my feet and reached for a towel to dry off, my mother handing me a sandwich and a bottle of water to scoff down.
Just as I raised the bottle to my lips, she snatched it off me with a disapproving click of her tongue. “You need to say thank you, Augustus.”
“Thank you, Mumma.”
Once we’d finished eating, Auden and I raced around with sticks for swords, setting off on a quest to find the wicked witch of the forest. We soldiered through endless rows of trees, climbing over rocks and crawling beneath large, fallen logs.
Dirt stained our clothes, but we ventured on, determined to play the heroes.
“Over here!” I called Auden. “The witch went this way!”
Wet leaves clung to our bare feet as we followed along a small brook, our reflections shimmering up at us between moss-covered stone. I avoided my own gaze, afraid of what might glance back.
Spearing my stick through the water, I dragged it along behind me as I listened to the gentle rustle of leaves and the collective humming of crickets.
The brook led us to an open field of blood red hellebores, green stems swaying in the light breeze.
“The witch is on the other side of this field!” I told Auden.
The long grass swallowed his sword as he trudged toward the rose-like flowers, hand outstretched as though entranced. He reached to tear off the petals, but I stopped him, a gentle hand on his wrist.
“Poison,” I warned, “the witch may have set this as a trap.”
He paused, lowered his hand, and opted to run his fingers through the long grass instead, lips spreading into a wide, carefree smile.
A smile from Auden was as rare as my father’s laugh.
I savoured it, following him through the flowery field, laughing and stumbling with nothing but the wind in our hair and our wild imaginations.
It was at this moment I was reminded of why I had asked God for a younger sibling.
My adventures were no longer my own. I had Auden.
And he was ready to follow me into the very depths of Hell, all with a bright smile.
Broken twigs lured us back into the woods, small droplets of rain falling into my curls as I pushed them out of my eyes. The sun had disappeared behind dark clouds, cloaking the woods in darkness. I reached for Auden’s hand to keep him close, but I was met with only air.
“Auden?!” My head whipped from side to side, scanning the trees for my brother’s small frame. “Auden!”
Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath my feet as I ran deeper into the woods, my brother’s name on my tongue. Panic spread through me like wildfire, flames licking at my heels, urging me to run faster.
“Auden!” I shouted. “If you can hear me, use your sword to make a sound! Hit it against a tree or… or the ground!”
I waited, but there was no sound. The leaves had stopped rustling. The crickets had stopped humming. Birds were nowhere in sight. It was just me and the soft patter of rain, standing alone in the woods blanketed by shadows.
Augustus.
My name whistled through the air, a soft whisper that would have brought comfort if it had come from my brother. But Auden did not speak.
Goosebumps spread over my arms and legs, breath evading capture as I slowly turned my head.
The Devil wore a face cloaked in shadow, horns protruding from a nest of brown hair, his body blending in with the dark woods looming behind him.
“Where is Auden?” I demanded, voice cracking.
Who?
He drifted closer, but his features remained hidden beneath a veil of darkness. Snakes slithered at his feet, long ribbons of black scales threatening to swallow me whole.
“My brother,” I answered, fighting the instinct to flee. “Auden. Where is he?”
A heavy silence hung in the air as the Devil watched me. No one moved—not a single breath shared between us. The hunter and the prey.
I opened my mouth to repeat my question, but the words died in my throat the second my feet lifted off the ground and my back slammed against a tree.
Pain burst through my spine, vision blurring as the loud crack of bone against bark echoed in my ears.
I anticipated a drop, but the earth below grew farther and farther away as my body lifted high into the treetops.
Tendrils of smoke slithered up my body, curling around my neck in a tight embrace. I gasped. Choking. Withering.
You don’t need Auden, the Devil whispered in my ear, I am right here.
“I… don’t… want… you…”
I couldn’t see the Devil’s face, but I knew he was smiling when he said, You will.
“AUGUSTUS!”
My mother’s voice cut through the darkness, the Devil loosening his hold. Warm sunlight chased away the shadows, air slowly returning to my screaming lungs.
“Augustus, what are you doing up there?!”
I glanced down at my mother, her fingers interlaced with Auden’s as they both peered up at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
That was when I realised I was at least twenty branches high in a pine tree, my hands covered in dirt, leaves and splinters.
Confused, I climbed down carefully, my heart thundering as I replayed the last few minutes in my head.
“I lost Auden,” I explained, “I… had to climb the tree to look for him.”
“Auden was right here when I found you,” my mother said, reaching down to pick a leaf out of my hair.
“What?” I looked at Auden, but his eyes were on the tree. Had he really been there? Had he seen the Devil?
“Come on,” my mother said, “let’s get you cleaned up.”
***
A scream tore me from sleep’s warm embrace.
Disoriented, I sat up, fingers massaging my eyes to prepare them for the waking world.
I thought I imagined the scream. But then I heard it again, the sound crawling up to the second floor, bursting into my bedroom with ferocity.
Wood groaned beneath my feet as I stumbled into the hallway, the faint glow of the moon peering through the windows my only guide. Hand on the railing, I descended the staircase, squaring my shoulders to prepare for the scene below.
Auden was on the couch, sandwiched between my parents. Tears poured from his red-rimmed eyes, mouth wet with dribble as he released a river of screams, fingernails tearing through the pale flesh of his arms.
My father restrained his wrists behind his back to stop him, but Auden thrashed around like a wild animal caught in a net, a trickle of blood rolling down his arms.
“What's going on?” I asked in alarm.
“Go back to bed,” my mother said, fingers raking through the knots in her hair as tears nestled on the dark patches under her eyes.
“But what’s wrong?” I demanded. The idea that I would simply return to my bedroom while Auden screamed in distress was ludicrous. That was just not going to happen. It was my job to protect him when my parents couldn’t. And clearly…they couldn’t.
“We don’t know,” my father said, voice dripping with exhaustion. With each blink, it seemed harder and harder for his eyes to reopen. “He came into our room and when we sent him back to bed–”
“He became a nightmare,” my mother finished, shaking her head.
“Nothing will calm him down,” my father sighed.
“I think I can help,” I offered, taking a tentative step toward the couch.
“And what could you possibly do?” my mother scoffed, her tone as cold as the breeze that entangled itself around my bare arms and legs.
“He wants his chocolate drink,” I answered.
Chocolate drink, or hot chocolate, as we all call it. Not only was it Auden’s favourite drink, but it was a critical part of his morning routine.
Adults had their coffee, Auden and I had our chocolate drink. We could not start our day without it. But for Auden, this break in routine was a broken limb that would not heal.
“It’s not even four am,” my mother said. “He’s not having his chocolate drink.”
“Yes, but–”
“Chocolate drink is for morning. To have with breakfast. Not at three am after waking up in the middle of the night,” my mother cut me off.
“I don’t think he understands that it’s too early,” I argued. “He’s so used to waking up and getting his drink that he’s probably just confused as to why he isn’t getting it now. Maybe he can just have a little bit?”
My mother looked as though I had just asked her to shave off all her hair. “No, Augustus. No. He cannot just have a little bit. If we give in to his demands, he’ll expect chocolate drink every time he wakes up in the middle of the night and throw a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way!”
“You’re not listening. He’s just confused and–”
“YOU ARE A CHILD!” my mother snapped. “You do NOT get to tell me what to do! You do not get to tell me how I should parent!”
“I know,” I whispered, fighting off the instinct to lower my gaze in submission. My eyes drifted toward Auden. He was rocking back and forth, head shaking from side to side as tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t defend himself, it was my job to do it for him. And I was failing.
I looked to my father, but he averted his gaze, leaving me alone and unarmed on a battlefield where my opponent had the upper ground. But even facing an army of soldiers, I would stand by Auden.
“Please,” I said, “he’s upset. He doesn’t understand. If we could just give him a little bit to calm down and then we can explain–”
“I SAID NO!” my mother shouted. She struck my face, head whipping to the side so fast that my neck cracked, pain shooting down my spine. “I am so SICK of you always talking back!”
My father stood. “Mary–”
Tears rolled freely down my cheeks as I clutched my neck, legs trembling to the point I had to crouch down so as not to fall.
“I can’t do this anymore, Marcus!” my mother said. “I can’t do this! I can’t do it! I can’t–”
My father pulled her into his arms, comforting her the way I wanted him to comfort me, to comfort Auden. But he barely spared us a glance as my mother sobbed into his chest.
Punish them, the Devil’s voice whispered, strike them back.
I reached for Auden, securing him in my arms without sparing my parents a second glance. They might have had each other, but I had Auden. And that was all that mattered.
I carried him upstairs, away from the chaos, and carefully settled him into bed.
Once his cries shifted to gentle snores, I walked toward the small window overlooking the driveway, compelled by an untamed rage that flooded through my veins. It was overpowering. All-consuming.
My fist slammed through the window, puncturing a hole as glass shattered, blood seeping from my sliced knuckles. I expected pain, but the only thing I felt was relief.
Good, little monster, the Devil said, let it out.