Chapter 35: deep,

LUCA

Resting on my knees, I glance up to the person standing before me and I find my own eyes staring back at me. They look cold, detached, and heartless. I barely recognize them nor the way they pity me as if I’m less than human.

“Please,” I say, but I’m not entirely sure what I’m pleading for. My life, certainly. I hang my head as a sign of defeat and that’s when my eyes find my hands—which don’t have a single tattoo on them.

What?

Lifting my chin, I take in the full sight of a man who looks exactly like me—tattoos, piercings, eyebrow slit and all—standing authoritatively, dressed in all black from head to toe. “Luca, please—” I can’t seem to finish the sentence.

But did I just call him Luca? My name?

As I twist my neck, I find a reflective surface on the far side of the room and I find that it’s not me staring back, but Adiv. I’m Adiv.

It immediately causes me to panic and this feeling of hopelessness washes over me. “Please help.” Is this what Adiv saw before Cain ended his life?

Luca’s eyes are black. He doesn’t move an inch in my direction, despite my pleas.

I feel a presence behind me and I don’t have to turn to know that it’s Cain. “Nothing can save you now,” he taunts, “Not yourself. Not even her.”

With that final statement, I feel movement, followed by intense pain at my neck. Instantly, I reach a hand up to find the warmth of blood pouring between my fingers. Desperately, I place my hands to the wound, trying my best to create pressure to stop the bleeding, but then Cain yanks on the blade and pulls and a grotesque sensation tears at my throat as he drags the knife across it.

I immediately feel light-headed and I peer at Luca—at me—as I plead for help with my eyes. I try to speak, but no words will come out. As I attempt to beg, I begin to choke on blood.

The coughs I release result in blood spraying across Luca’s expensive, black dress shoes. He takes a glance down at the sight, lifts a leg and shakes the redness off in disgust.

“Pl—” I sink lower, reaching a hand in Luca’s direction. As I pull it away to put it back to my throat, I leave a bloody, smeared handprint on the marble flooring.

I know I’m dying, I can feel it. Something inside me is telling me to let go. To die. To sleep. But I fight against it, reaching out for aid in my desperate moment.

Is this honestly how Adiv felt in his final seconds? Did he feel as betrayed by me as I do now?

I can feel myself gradually losing consciousness, the blood loss becoming too much. I’ve almost entirely lost sense of where I am or what’s happening because my body simply doesn’t have the energy—almost as if I’m floating in some realm between life and death.

The moment before the ocean finally lulls me to sleep is the moment I wake with a startle. I clutch a hand to my chest as I try to catch my breath.

For a minute, I’m too overwhelmed and I feel as though I’m still sleeping. I’ve learned tricks to bring myself back—pinching the skin of my arm, splashing water on my face, or standing outside to breathe some fresh air—but more often than not, it takes me some time to truly accept that it was just a nasty dream.

This nightmare keeps happening ever since the night the world lost Adiv. It’s the same dream every time, and I must’ve had it a half dozen times by now. It haunts me every time I finally manage to fall asleep.

I fucking hate it. It makes me feel as if I’m right there in that room again, watching helplessly as my best mate is murdered before my eyes.

It’s sick that my brain has twisted the memory, putting me in Adiv’s shoes so I’m able to witness my reaction to losing him. The look on my face as Cain stabs the knife in my—Adiv’s—neck disgusts me. Is that really what Adiv saw in his last moments?

Memories of him keep coming back, but I know he never will. It’s a pain I’ll never forget. It’ll always be with me, just as he always will.

What in the universe decided that day would be his last? Why him? Why not me?

This shit is torturously cruel. There’s nothing obvious to concern me, like a bruise or a lump that I can physically see and feel. Instead, I feel as though I’m slowly and insidiously eroding—like cancer is metastasizing within me. It’s fucking eating me alive.

I happen to believe this dream is karmic. It’s happening because I didn’t do everything possible to save my brother.

Did he see in me what I do every time I look up and meet my own eyes in the dream? Did I appear so heartless and cold to him?

I’d like to hope not, but if it isn’t true, why do I keep dreaming it? It seems so bloody fucking real and it terrifies me. The thing I see in my own eyes when I’m viewing everything from Adiv’s eyes is the very thing I see in Cain Brooks. It’s pure, unfettered evil. There’s no mistaking it.

I walk into my kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Carrying it in my hand, I gather a bottle of whiskey on my way to the living room. I sit down on the sofa, pour myself a drink, and knock it back as I flick on the television.

Alcohol is a lot easier to swallow than reminders of what I’ve lost. Of what happened because of my selfish actions.

RAVEN

It hasn’t been long since the night things changed forever.

I’m not talking about Marco’s death, nor am I speaking of Leo’s. The memories of those are basically plankton in the ocean now—they’re long forgotten, passed over by bigger and deadlier fish that are currently on our radar.

The night of Adiv’s death was traumatic in many ways and for far too many people.

However, there are two people who aren’t handling it well whatsoever—Dove and Luca.

Dove has proceeded to cry her eyes out since the day it happened. She refuses to see anyone, which includes me, but I’ve managed to talk to her in tiny sessions. She’s lost the love of her life and the father of her child, so she’s understandably broken.

I feel terrible about it. I want to help her so badly, but it can be difficult to help people in their grieving processes. Everyone grieves things differently and for different people. Dove’s always been the type that prefers to deal with her feelings by herself. She wants to process and journal things about the loved one so that she doesn’t forget.