Chapter 19: A Shattered Home
Chapter 19: A Shattered Home
Approaching his home, John tried calling out, but received no answer. The front gates were securely locked. He moved to the large driveway gate and delivered a forceful kick, dislodging one side from the wall. "Ooooh wow! Did you somehow awaken super strength from that fight? Or is the adrenaline from the earlier giving you a boost?" Alice exclaimed, clearly impressed and excited by John's display. He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Not exactly. This place has been undergoing renovations since I was twelve. The driveway gate was on our list for changes further down the line, so it was designed to be functional but not exactly resilient. It's easy to pop off its bolts from the wall," John explained as they continued toward the front door.
Finding the security gate unlocked and the door slightly ajar, John's concern deepened. He called out for his parents and brother, his voice echoing through the silent house. Alice followed him inside, her fingers brushing the door frame as she entered. When she pulled her hand away, it was stained with blood. Her expression turned grave. She managed to conceal the scythe somewhere in her dress and drew her knife, showing an unwavering readiness as they moved deeper into the house. The gruesome sight that met their eyes was a tableau of horror – an elderly couple's lifeless forms lay contorted on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Nearby, a macabre arrangement of animals – cats, dogs, and birds – added a surreal touch to the grim scene, as if it was part of some horrifying ritual.
Alice approached John cautiously, standing by his side and lightly resting her hand on his shoulder. He seemed lost in his grief, his sobs punctuating the otherwise silent room. "John? It's going to be okay. I don't know what happened here, but..." Alice began, her words trailing off as he cut her off.
"But what? That things will somehow be fine? That my parents wouldn't want me to fall apart? That they'd want me to carry on? But what, Alice? These were my parents. We may have had our differences, and yes, we used to get on each other's nerves, but they were my parents, my own flesh and blood. They didn't deserve this..." John's voice cracked, his tears mingling with the bloodstains on the floor as he pounded his fists into the ground. Alice stood beside him, a silent presence of support, her hand resting gently on his back.
"What about your brother?" Alice asked gently, breaking the silence. John turned to look at her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He slowly got to his feet, his nod indicating that he understood. A crashing noise outside the house drew his attention, and he practically rushed out, almost colliding with Alice in his haste.
"Max! Is that you, Max? Come on out. Don't tell me you're hiding! It's me, John. Please, show yourself!" he shouted; his voice tinged with desperation. Outside the house, on the corner wall, John froze. His younger brother crouched there; his gaze fixed on him. Max wore a jacket with a furry collar, and a large black sword, stained with blood, dangled by his side. In his hand, he held a porcelain white mask, blood slowly flowing from the eye holes, an image of a black wolf howling on its side It was an object that seemed to symbolize a deep transformation. This was the unsettling scene Alice walked into. She watched, torn between the brothers, as Max narrowed his eyes, shaking his head slowly.
"I did what I had to. I don't expect you to comprehend it. You were always too soft, always have been, and always will be. Incapable of doing what must be done. That's where we diverge. I'll do whatever is necessary, regardless of the blood that must be shed. And don't call me Max anymore," Max's voice was tinged with a mix of defiance and detachment. He clutched the mask in his hand before slowly he raised it to his face, a sickening squelching sound accompanied by a sizzling noise filled the air. He threw his head back and screamed, his voice distorting into an inhuman tone before abruptly ceasing. As he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on John and Alice, his words took on an eerie clarity.
"I am Hunter now. Pray that our paths don't cross, for I'll use you as bait or as prey," the newly christened Hunter declared before he leaped back, vanishing from sight with a faint whistle of wind.
John's fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. He stared at the spot where Max – or rather, Hunter – had stood, his mind grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and questions. Did Max orchestrate the destruction inside the house? Did he snap due to the scene inside? Was the mask somehow intertwined with the chaos? A part of him hoped that Max's true self still lingered beneath the surface.
"That thing is really dangerous," Alice's voice broke the silence, her gaze fixed on the same spot John had been staring at moments ago. He turned to her and noticed that her knife was held in a tight grip, her legs trembling as she fought to remain upright.
"I mean it when I say it's truly, immensely dangerous. My instincts screamed that a single wrong move would be my last, that it could have killed me in a blink of a eye. While it might have been your brother once, I have serious doubts that remains the case. That mask... when he put it on, my blood boiled and seemed to run cold at the same time. I have no shame admitting that I was nearly paralyzed with fear to the point I almost wet myself. It might sound harsh, but I sincerely hope we never cross paths with that thing again. John, as difficult as it may be, it might be best to just consider your brother dead with the rest of your family," she told him. Her words were met with a vacant stare.
Slowly, John turned away from Alice, taking a few steps forward and directing his gaze towards the sky. "We'll overcome this. I promise you that. You're not alone in this, John. I'm right here, and you have your phone friend. Channel this anger and use it as fuel, to keep pushing forward, live on for them." Alice urged, hoping to pull him from the abyss he seemed to be sinking into. He managed a faint nod, an acknowledgment that didn't quite dispel the shadows lurking in his eyes.
"Just give me some time. I'd appreciate being alone for now. Maybe you could explore the area, find something to fight, or explore or something. I don't know," he requested, his voice heavy with weariness. With that, he made his way back inside, and Alice saw him heading towards the back of the house, where he gathered some blocks of firewood before going to what she assumed to be his room. As the electricity was still on John powered up his PC and got some music playing. Alice watched him from the doorway, observing as he settled on the edge of his bed and began carving into one of the wood blocks. Each shaving seemed to bring forth a fresh wave of tears, and he carved with a mixture of grief and focus, seeming to pour his turbulent emotions into the current task and slowly shutting the world around him out.
After a few more moments, Alice quietly left the room, venturing back to where John's parents and pets rested. She carefully lifted them, carrying them out to the backyard and arranging them with a sense of solemnity. searching around inside she managed to find some blankets to cover them, providing a final gesture of respect. Returning to John's room, she stationed herself in the doorway, silently watching over him as he tried to cope with the weight of his sorrow. Her own mind seemingly far away as well in her own thoughts.