Fire on fire
The journey back was a silent one, but my mind was anything but quiet. It was filled with the echoes of the past, memories that clawed their way out from the dark recesses of my mind. I could see the flames again, flickering and dancing in my mind's eye, and hear Alex's final, heart-wrenching cries. I often wondered if he had foreseen the ramifications for me, Michael, and our father. Maybe, if he had known what would become of us, he might have stayed. Yet, a deeper part of me felt that he had considered every possibility before making his irrevocable choice.
The ache of longing for someone who is no longer there is a profound torment. It is a pain so raw, so relentless, that it consumes the soul. By the time we reached my father's grand home, night had already draped its dark cloak over the world. It was surreal that this mansion, once a beacon of warmth and love, now felt like a mausoleum of cold, indifferent stone. The emptiness was palpable, a stark contrast to the vibrant life it once held.
"You go on ahead, Michael. I'll join you in a bit," I said, trying to steady my voice.
"I'll see your father first. We both need a break; it's getting late," Michael replied, his voice laced with a weariness that matched my own.
I nodded, turning away from him, and made my way to the one place that still felt like a part of me—the garden. As I walked, each step felt heavier, my breaths growing shallow. The garden was a sanctuary, enveloped in the rich, soothing scent of jasmine. Tall trees stood sentinel around it, their branches filtering the last of the evening light into dappled patterns on the ground. The garden was alive with an explosion of colors from a myriad of flowers—blue, violet, crimson, yellow—each one a testament to the vibrant life it once nurtured. But it was the jasmine that held my heart.
To my astonishment, the garden still sang with the melodious chirps of birds around the central fountain. I inhaled deeply, trying to absorb every ounce of the place's essence. The damp, earthy aroma of the garden was a stark reminder of its former glory. It was once a place where laughter and secrets were shared, but now it felt hollow, missing the sounds of joy that had once filled its space.
"It seems that despite moving out, Dad has kept up with the garden you loved, Mother," I murmured, the words barely escaping my lips.
A wistful smile touched my face as the winter wind brushed gently against my skin, as though the memories of those who had become mere whispers in the wind were wrapping around me in a comforting embrace.
This garden, once a source of solace for Alex, was now bereft of the laughter it once knew. It was here that I had witnessed a horror that left an indelible mark on my soul—an event that stole away my chance to say a final goodbye to Alex.
Alex had always cherished this garden, especially because it was our mother's favorite. He found comfort in its serenity, but eventually, even this refuge could no longer soothe him. From this very garden, I had a clear view of Alex's bedroom. I used to watch him read by his window, waving to him as he looked up and returned the gesture. But now, that room was shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
One fateful day, his room was ablaze. The terror that gripped me was like ice seizing my veins. I could barely move, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. Something inside urged me to run.
"Fire! Alex's room is on fire! Dad, please, someone help!"
My screams ripped through the stillness of the night as I stumbled forward, tears blurring my vision, desperation clawing at my heart. Every beat of it felt like a death knell. Was Alex even in there? If he was, I silently begged him to be safe. This was a terror unlike anything I had ever known, a fear so profound it made my very bones ache. My hands trembled violently as I reached for the doorknob, fingers slipping against the cold metal. When I finally wrenched it open, a fleeting, cruel moment of relief washed over me—before despair crushed it, leaving me gasping.
Thick, choking smoke poured out in waves, curling through the air like a living thing. Each breath I took was agony, the acrid stench burning my throat and lungs. Through the dense haze, my eyes fixed on the sight I wished I could unsee—Alex's room, once grand and full of life, now a blazing inferno, the fire greedily devouring everything in its path.
"Aubrey!"
I spun toward the voice, panic tearing at my chest. "Alex! Please, you have to get out!" My voice cracked, strained with desperation, barely louder than a sob.
By now, others had gathered around, their faces twisted with horror and disbelief, mirroring my own anguish. The air was thick not just with smoke but with the suffocating weight of hopelessness.
"No, Aubrey, it's too late for me," Alex's voice trembled, tears mingling with the soot on his face, his features ghostly pale against the backdrop of the flames.
"What are you saying? No! Someone—please, do something!" My voice broke, raw and ragged, but there was nothing left in me but pleading. My body felt like it might collapse under the weight of my grief.
"Water! Get water! Call the police! Someone inform Mr. Ardel immediately!" The headman's frantic orders cut through the chaos, but the fire moved with a hunger that nothing could quench. It crept further, faster. The window was the only escape, the last, perilous hope—but Alex didn't move.
"Aubrey..." His voice was a fragile whisper beneath the roar of the flames. "I wanted to laugh, to cry, to see the sea and stay by your side. But my nights... my nights were filled with torment. I smiled through it all because I had to because I am Alex, but... tell me, is there no place for me to cry? No one ever saw me falling apart—not even you." His words pierced through me like shards of glass. "My heart is hollow now, filled with thoughts I can't control. I've been losing myself, drowning in sleepless nights."
"No, stop, please! You can't say that!" I cried, but I knew, even then, that it was too late. The flames were already claiming him, and nothing could stop them.
"Live, Aubrey... live for me." His final words, so soft, so full of sorrow, came with a bittersweet smile as if he had already accepted his fate. And then, with terrifying finality, the flames took him. They wrapped around him like an old, cruel friend, drawing him deeper into the fire's embrace.
"Hold the young master back!" Someone shouted, their voice barely registering over the roaring flames.
"No! Let me go! Alex is still in there!" I screamed, fighting against the arms holding me back, my vision blurred with tears. The world was spinning, darkening, as my strength left me. The next thing I knew, the ground rushed up to meet me, and the heavy weight of unconsciousness descended.
Through the fading light, my lips moved with one last, desperate whisper. "Alex... he's waiting for me."
"Young Master."
The voice pulled me back to the present, interrupting the painful memories.
"Uncle Gren," I murmured, my voice thick with nostalgia.
The old man's eyes widened, trembling as he took in the sight of me. "Is that really you, young master?" His voice quivered with emotion, and when he reached out, his hands were still as gentle as I remembered. He brushed a hand against my cheek as if confirming I was real. Tears welled up in his eyes. "How long has it been since I last saw you?"
"Too long," I replied, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry, Uncle Gren, for not visiting more often."
Uncle Gren shook his head, his hand slowly falling away. "It's not your fault, young master. This mansion..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced toward the large, ornate window that once overlooked the life Alex and I shared. "It became so silent after Alex died. After you left... Sometimes, I wondered if it was all just a dream."
I followed his gaze toward the window, haunted by the memories it held. "I should've been here more. I should've—"
"No," Uncle Gren interrupted softly. "The weight you carried was heavier than anyone should bear alone. I always knew you needed to leave. But that doesn't mean it wasn't hard. For any of us."
His words stirred a mixture of guilt and relief in me. The birds sang softly in the background, their melodies weaving through the still air, but the silence between us felt louder.
"I know it was hard for you, Uncle Gren," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though a crack betrayed the sadness beneath. I couldn't help but notice how much older he looked—the once-sharp, dapper figure of my youth was now marked by time. His once-black hair had thinned and gone silver, and the lines of age etched deep into his face told stories of the years that had passed.
"Not harder than for you, master," he said with a small, wistful smile, though his eyes carried the weight of those years, the weight of Alex's death, and everything that had followed.
"How are you now?" I asked, though I could already see the answer in the way he stood, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
"Taking things one day at a time. The occasional trip to the market keeps me going. And you, master?"
I turned my gaze toward the window, my heart tightening. "Still fighting," I said, my voice quieter. "Still trying to reconcile with the past."
His expression softened, as if he understood the endless battle I was waging. He looked toward the window as well, the very window where I'd seen the flames the night of the fire—the night I lost Alex. It was only six feet away, but in my mind, that distance now felt like an eternity. The weight of that night pressed down on me as heavily as it had all those years ago.
"You're still holding on," Uncle Gren said, almost reading my thoughts. His voice was gentle, but there was an unspoken question in it—*when will you let go?*
"I have to," I replied, my voice firm, though inside, I wasn't sure if I was talking to him or myself. "I have to figure out what really happened."
He nodded, but I could see the sadness in his eyes hadn't lifted. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for, young master," he said, though his tone held a note of resignation.
I reached out, clasping his hand for a moment. "Thank you, Uncle Gren," I said, squeezing it gently before letting go. "For everything."
"You've always had my loyalty, master," he replied with a small, sad smile. "You always will."
With that, I turned toward the guest hall, the looming shadow of the mansion feeling more oppressive with every step. The weight of my memories, of Alex, of everything I hadn't confronted still hung over me. As I approached the hall, I noticed two men waiting for me by the doorway. Their presence was a reminder of the life I could never escape—the grip my father still held over me.
I glanced back one last time at Uncle Gren, who stood by the garden, watching me with that same look of sadness. He had spent years carrying the burden of this family, just as I had. But no one could free me from it—not him, not anyone. The haunting memories of this mansion, of Alex, of the truth I sought, were mine to face alone.