Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 179
179
"I'm sorry..." Hezzi whispered, staring down in horror at Banno's body. "I'm sorry... I- I'm sorry..." His eyes went glassy and unfocussed. He swayed in place and began to pitch backward. He raised his arm, but it was an unconscious response, as if he weren't actually falling, but rather sinking... sinking into the pale half-light below.
"Hezzi!" Ander gritted his teeth and lunged forward, grabbing his little brother by the hand. For a second everything was thrown into question, Ander up high and Hezzi down low, caught in a shifting, uneven balance, but in the end, Ander's perseverance won out over dead weight. With a grunt of effort, he pulled Hezzi back from the edge and the boy landed right on top of him with an impact that sent a wave of pain racing through his chest, but he didn't care in the slightest. Ander pulled him in close and hugged him, lightly rubbing his back, hardly daring to believe it. "Hezzi! Are you okay?"
"Ander..." he whispered, his voice like that of the child he once was, back when the world was still small. "I didn't... I didn't..."
"Sshh, it's okay, Hezzi."
"I didn't want to!" he screamed into Ander's chest. His tears burned like fire. "I didn't want to! I didn't want to!"
"I know you didn't, Hezzi. It's okay."
"I didn't..."
"You had to, you hear me? You had to." That's what it came down to, didn't it? His hand had been forced.
Ander pressed Hezzi's head against his shoulder, lightly rubbing his back, inviting the tears to come. And at the same time, he looked over the boy's heaving shoulders in absolute loathing at the creature who would force something like this upon a child who, once upon a time, had idolized it as a god.
Banno was nothing more than a bleeding heap of black flesh in the shadows now. The tines of the pitchfork had gone all the way through his body and were propping him up against the stairs, making it look like he was listening to Hezzi's sobs with great interest. Or at least, that's what it would have looked like if his neck wasn't completely limp and his face wasn't hanging straight down, staring into nothing but the pool of blood spreading across the steps and dribbling down the risers in slow, red sheets.
Banno. Flavour of Death. His evil smile was finally gone. For so many, too many, that smile had been the last thing they ever saw. But now it was just a set of teeth growing out of bleeding gums, ringed by a pair of torn lips. Even his eye, though open, was just a lifeless orb now. The bottomless black pit was just a pupil that would soon go pale and white, the red lightning was just veins, and the fire might never have been there in the first place.
"It's okay, Hezzi, it's okay..." Ander whispered. Some part of him was trying to think of something more meaningful to say, that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't do anything wrong, that he only did what he had to, what he was forced to. He tried to think of a way to explain that sometimes you need to do painful things to keep the ones you love from getting hurt, even if it meant hurting someone you once loved, someone you might _still_love, despite everything he had done, because he was family, but even as those thoughts swirled around inside Ander's head they seemed so nonsensical, so contradictory, he couldn't even figure them out for himself, let alone for his little brother, who always strove to break things down into their simplest forms.
For Hezzi, everything was simple, no matter how complicated they appeared to be, and this was no exception. Without even needing to ask, Ander knew exactly what dark and terrible thoughts were racing through his head.
I killed Banno. He's dead because of me. He was my big brother. I loved him. I murdered him.
Ander knew all this because he had gone through the exact same thing. He could still feel the mark that night had left on his soul like a brand of ice, could still see it in perfect detail from inside the depths of his darkest nightmares: a black face disappearing into the muddy waters, blood gushing from his eye like a fountain, mixing with the river water in dirty red clouds.
How did he get through it that time? How did he manage to find his feet when it felt like all he wanted to do was lie in the rain and wait for his heart to tear itself apart?
He didn't. He couldn't. Even now, at the end of so many things, it was something he couldn't face by himself. What had gotten him through that dark, empty night had been Kiana. She never tried to explain it away. She never tried to deny what had happened. She never tried to make him butt heads with the past until one or the other shattered into a thousand pieces.
All she did... All she needed to do... All that Ander needed her to do... was be there.
For Hezzi, everything was simple, no matter how complicated they appeared to be, and this was no exception.
So Ander held his little brother close and he whispered the small things, the tiny things, just to let him know the most important thing: that he was there. "Sshh, Hezzi, it's okay. Everything is okay. You don't need to worry about anything. I'm still here. I've got you."
Little by little, Hezzi's tears began to ebb away. His frantic, clutching fingers loosened and his arms went limp. His breathing slowed, going from harsh, stuttering gasps to soft, warm pulses of air against Ander's neck.
"It's okay... It's finally... finally okay..." Ander whispered, not even sure who he was whispering to anymore, Hezzi, or himself. Tears ran down his cheeks and over his cuts and scratches, burning like salt. He reached up to wipe his face, but his hand froze midway, caught inside a square of pale, steely half-light.
It was covered in blood all the way down to his elbow. This wasn't Ander's blood. His was sticky and already half-dried into his fur. And neither was it Banno's noxious, infected blood that reeked of offal. This was fresh blood. And the scent...
"Hezzi?"
The boy didn't answer.
Ander called his name again, more urgently this time, but still no response. Hezzi had gone completely limp in his arms.
"Hezzi! Come on!" Ander gave him a little shake, but his head simply lolled to the side, revealing a face that might have been sleeping peacefully, or -
"No! No, Hezzi! Come on!" Ander could feel the thorny tendrils of panic begin to twist around his heart. A hundred thoughts flashed through his mind, overlapping and overwriting and cutting each other off before they could even form a complete picture in his head, creating a mishmashed jumble of words and images.
How did he even get
There's no way Bethany would have
He must have snuck out
He shouldn't be out of bed, let alone
Walked, he must have walked
The woods, the snow, the wind, the storm
Red scarf
Black scarf
Scissors.
Ander hooked a shaking finger around Hezzi's sodden scarf. Very gently, he peeled it away, horrified by the wet, mushy sound the wool made as it rubbed against itself. The bandages beneath were still intact, but they were soaked all the way through.
"Dammit, Hezzi!" Ander wept, gingerly replacing the scarf and hugging him tight, wondering what to do.
Well, the answer to that was obvious, wasn't it? He had to get them out of here. All of them. He'd carry them on his shoulders if he had to. He'd walk through the snow with a severed foot if he had to. He'd make five trips to Jon's house and back if he had to. He didn't care how much he had to suffer to make it happen, he didn't care how painful it would be, he didn't care that he could barely keep his eyes open as he was now, he didn't care about any of it, just as long as they all made it out of this alive.
He would never be able to live with himself otherwise.
"Come on, Hezzi..." Ander whispered and give his little brother a gentle kiss on top of his head. "I promise I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hang on and..."
Hezzi squeezed his shoulder. It wasn't a very hard squeeze, but Ander was sure he felt it.
"Hezzi? Are you with me?"
His eyes remained closed, but that was okay. That gentle squeeze was all the assurance Ander needed. He was a tough one. Only...
Both of Hezzi's hands were resting on Ander's chest, completely limp.
It took Ander only a moment to turn his head, but in that moment, many, many things happened. His heart stopped beating. His breath stuck in his throat. His blood turned to ice. All sound and colour drained out of the world. It was, quite possibly, the longest moment of Ander's life.
Banno was clutching his shoulder, staring at him with the unblinking gaze of a corpse. His mouth was wide open, his teeth dripping blood. Every breath came out in a rattle, as though his throat were filled with stones. His eye caught the weak light of the morning as a single white pinpoint at the bottom of the empty black pit that was his pupil, reflected over and over by the slivers of glass still embedded in his face, making it look like he didn't have just one eye, but hundreds, all of them furious beyond belief.
And very, very hungry.
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