Atticus #2
And I shatter.
I fight, like the last soldier against an army of men; I fight for his life. For control over my own. Screaming, crying, and bloody.
Then—
“No!” My voice resonates in the room around me, and my hand releases Cameron’s throat, his body falling limp to the floor.
Stumbling away, covered in blood, I fall to my knees.
Everyone around me is gone. It is just me, in a body that is only half mine, and Barfred, who now looms over me.
“Good boy,” he praises, disgustingly calm. “You’ve done well.”
Vomit gushes from between my lips, my body growing weaker by the second. And the last thing I see before it all fades to black is Cameron’s body, crumpled on the floor.
And then it’s all over.
I wake to light sneaking into my own quarters through the open window. Spring air rushes in, cooling my heated skin. I feel as if I’m on fire, as if I’m dying from a deadly cold.
There is only one person in my room with me, and that person is Jeremy Walsh. Guilt and shame overcome me, memories of Julian’s slumped body assaulting my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, throat rubbed raw as tears fall from my stinging eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what, Young Master Atticus?” Jeremy asks, and he sounds so kind, so placating, that it only hurts worse.
“I killed him. I killed your son.”
Jeremy doesn’t react. Instead, he stares at me, observing my reaction in silence.
Finally, he says, “Let me get your father.”
“Y-you can’t,” I choke out. Then, in a whispered confession, I add, “I killed him too.”
Jeremy’s eyes widen slightly.
“I killed them all,” I admit. “Everyone but Barfred—I killed them.”
“Shh, it’s alright,” Jeremy coos as I start to choke on my cries.
“No, you should go,” I plead. “I’m not safe to be around. I-I could hurt you too.”
“You won’t,” he insists. “I made sure of it.”
His eyes dart to my hands, and as I turn to look, I realize that I’ve been handcuffed to my bedpost, one set on each wrist.
But he’s an idiot if he thinks this will work. Such a trusting idiot.
“These won’t work. I’ve broken out of them already.” And it’s true. Atlas handcuffed me to this very bed just last night, and I found a way to rip out of them—the cut and bruising on my wrist prove that.
But Jeremy just nods toward my stomach, where a heavy-duty chain has been wrapped around me, connecting to either side of the bedframe.
“It’ll be alright,” he tells me. “We’re going to fix you.”
If he knows the solution, then great. I can be stopped now. But that doesn’t change… it doesn’t bring them back.
“They’re gone,” I whisper, tears building again. “They’re all gone. I couldn’t control it.”
Jeremy gives me a small, pained smile. “It’ll be alright.”
A knock sounds at the door, and I stare at the chain wrapped around me as it creaks open. I don’t want to see; I’m certain it’s the cops, or Barfred is here to tell me he cleaned up the bodies.
And I can’t. I can’t stomach remembering the look on Atlas’s face as I took his future away; the hot, sticky feel of my father’s blood as I put him in his grave.
Of Cameron… telling me he loves me even as I murdered him.
I… I murdered him. All of them.
“Atticus.” Even now, I can hear his voice. I can smell the sweet scent of him.
It’s torture.
“Look at me.”
My eyes snap up at the ghostly command, and I choke on my own sob as I stare right at Cameron, where he’s approached the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so sorry I did this to you, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”
Jeremy stands silently and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“Don’t apologize,” Cameron tells me, and he looks so much like an angel right now that I can’t breathe.
“How are you here? Am I dead, too? Is this hell?”
Everyone is being far too nice to me for this to be hell, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe my purgatory is drowning in guilt as I relive the kindness of my victims.
“You’re not dead. I’m not dead,” Cameron explains.
“Yes, you are. I killed you. I watched it,” I demand.
“No, baby, you didn’t. You came back; you stopped it.”
Baby. A broken sob escapes me, and Cameron sits on the edge of the bed next to where I’m lying, his hand cupping my cheek just as he did before I choked the life from his body.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“I’ll explain everything later. Once you’re fixed,” he says. “But you have to understand that you didn’t hurt anyone. No one. It was all in your head.”
“My head?” I repeat.
“Yes.” Cameron leans down, brushing his lips over mine briefly. Gently. “Everyone is safe. You included. I… I am so sorry, Atticus. I shouldn’t have listened to it. I shouldn’t have tried to…”
His voice trails off, becoming just as choked up as mine.
And he’s here. Really here. It was… it was all in my head?
“Don’t,” I grit out. “You did nothing wrong. The only mistake you made was loving someone like me.”
“Hey,” Cameron snaps, gripping my face with both hands. “Don’t ever say that again. Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“But—”
Another knock sounds at the door, cutting me off, and I look up in time to see Atlas rushing in.
“Atticus!” he shouts, falling on top of me, forcing Cameron to stand.
A violent sob leaves me at the life in his eyes, the way he’s warm and here and so fucking precious.
“Atty, darling,” I sob. “Oh, god. Atlas, I… I thought I…”
“I know,” he shushes. “Jeremy just told me. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and Momma and Papa called the reverend last night. He’s here to help you.”
“My Atty.” I want to grip his thin shoulders, run a hand through his soft brown curls. “My beautiful boy. Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a heart attack. I need you to hold me; please, Atlas, hold me.’
I sound like a child—a broken little boy begging for comfort. Atlas wraps his arms around my neck, burying his tear-soaked face against my skin.
“I’ve got you,” he cries. “I’ve got you.”
“My babies,” Mother’s voice sounds, and I open my eyes to see that everyone else has come into the room, standing by the door.
Father stands behind her, holding her body close to his chest as his eyes water. Jeremy stands off to the side, with Barfred and, surprisingly, Oscar flanking him.
And in front of them all is Reverend Clark, his face grim.
“We need to get started,” he states plainly.
“Come here, Atty,” Julian coos, and I startle to see him standing to my left, next to Cameron.
“No,” Atlas whimpers, his body being ripped from mine.
I pull at the restraints holding me, glaring up at Julian. “Leave him. Hands off, Julian.”
“We need to get started,” Reverend Clark repeats, appearing at the end of the bed.
“It’s okay, son,” Father tells me. “Just let him help you, and you can hug your brother all you want.”
I settle into the mattress, letting his words coddle me. The reverend looks determined and stern, placing a leather case on the end of the bed and clicking it open. I can’t see the contents; my heart skyrockets.
“Is… is this going to hurt?” I ask, my voice quiet and strained.
“Yes,” Reverend Clark answers simply.
Atlas makes a small whimpering noise, burying his face in Julian’s shoulder.