The third stage has begun. The enchantment had begun to take root inside the very core of his brain. On its way to drain out every ounce of willpower Travis could possibly muster. He still fought against this evil which had been done upon his head; there was little he could do. The fire though, the fire to hold, still wheel control over his life was and will never extinguish. For now till further, his brain rot, the magic stringing it together like a spider does an intricate trap. As the magic continued to spread, his bloodshot eyes becomes more prominent, its brightness could lead an army at night, his teeth turning to molten charcoal.
Travis from his vantage point looks around the house, putting final touches to prepare for his long departure; anything to delay the inevitable. A hand rests on his shoulder, tugging him. It began by itching down on his shoulder as if reminding him that he needed to be at a particular place at this particular time. It was the magic, tugging him to go and locate his "master", where ever she or he may be. He considered this the beginning of everything that was vile.
Even as his life was about to change, uprooted and destroyed, his willpower about to be shredded to splitters, his mind already confused to this new regime— it was him who had to go and find this person, not the other way around.
The very same person who had gone and ruin him, he has to locate; not to strangle in a fit of rage, but to actually pledge servitude for god knows how long. it should the height of it all— the breaking point.
If given any opportunity, he will slit the evil doer's throat that had the guts to put him through this ordeal; with the dullest of knives. Until then though. Now, he needed to do the needful: put his affairs in order.
Put some of his affairs in order before he goes completely nuts. Some of those affairs was to make sure his job was still waiting for him if he ever came back. If he told the right type of lie, it might just be possible. He has won employee of the month numerous times, so, that has to count for something.
With the fortune his father left behind, he could be building sand castle in any beach until he began graying. But, he knew he needed to live out of his father's shadow, escape.
Work was to him just that, a necessary evil, like eating vegetables and all that. It was to keep body and soul intact, to find something to do with his life apart from the partying and other nefarious behaviors.
He will also have to call some of his friends and make a lie of some sort, maybe travelling for unknown amount of time. He could try to save himself the stress of calling people that might not give a damn and just post it on all his social media statues.
His life from now on will never be the same again. How many years will have to pass before he is free or before there is a chance to slit throat and be free. It is likely to be a very long wait, until then, this magic won't have all of him. Won't have all his willpower, all his mind and body. The struggle isn't over yet.
He stood up, dusted imaginary dirt from his clothes and went to grab his phone.
****
The formerly bright sky darkened like Travis mood. Flashes of lightening lit up the sky. This was the least of his worries now as Travis trudged along the streets. He knew he was heading to a particular location. It was all in his head; this detailed map. It opened up paths that he should follow, and stubbornly refused to leave. The image was stuck in his head. He followed the flow.
Walking past street, buildings alit with different people's smiles and excessive laughter. They were different kinds, some beautiful, some ugly. All those smiles and laughs, he balled his fist, they were all oblivious.
All oblivious to his jaded red eyed, to the dead-man walk. To this pain that swept through him in torrents.
All around Bay street, it was all fun and hangouts. All silly dates and shy blushes that will amount to nothing but tears in future.
He can't exactly blame them though, before all this, few day ago, no, until yesterday, he was like this. It was all about the fun and thrill. He never stop ti notice other people's suffering, look to see anyone's pain, he thought his own was enough headache. He shut out on observing anyone— no one exactly cared about his ordeal when he was a child or chose to reach out and help. He faced those problems alone since he was little and it's happening all over again, right before his eyes.
Despite how much he's grown, how much he's changed, and he has, how much time had passed, the world have always been the same— never giving a fuck. He was part of it. All the friends he has made over the past decade, at times like this, he couldn't run to them for help. They wouldn't bulge a muscle, all they will do is push him away; if they didn't run at his horrid sight first. He couldn't hold it against them, their motto was 'enjoyment above all problems'.
He didn't exactly make friends for the moral support they could give.
Travis reason for befriending such clique of friends was simple; to never remember.
It had been great until now.
The rain had started a light drizzle. Girly screams could be heard from different directions as people bumped into each other, going for the nearest shelter. An emaciated woman with hair filled up grey hopped her way toward a coffee stand, a man ran down the road at full speed, his bag clutched tightly against his chest, while a couple sat outside a restaurant stargazing at each others eyes not bothering about the commotion the rain was causing, as if their love could wage war even against nature. Travis tsked at this flamboyant parade of their love.
Shelter would be nice. He thought that the rain would wash away these pent-up feelings that has built a house in him...but as it hit his face, it only served to water his anger, his loss. Reminding him that he had stopped living the moment this curse was placed on him.
The air became colder as rain continued its light shower. The magic which held him pretty stubborn, it refused to allow him any rest stop with its constant angry whispers. Was it like this for the others. Did the thoughts imposed by someone else bang against their head until they felt their head was filled with lead and mushed up. Because right now, his head was too heavy to carry; but no where to put down that burden.
Travis shrugged and walked faster. The enchantment was took him towards the hills: Queen's road. There was only one family who used to live there. Used to. Travis heard they died in a tragic house accident. The superfamous, respected Arcada's.
Everyone in the family died, according to the rumor mills some years ago except their daughter. Arcada Jovic.
It was all over the papers. To have happened fifteen years ago or so. Travis couldn't exactly put his finger on the exact year. According to rumors though, it was caused by a fire. A fire so blue that no amount of water could dispelled it, could quench its hunger for human flesh. It burned so brightly, it could be seen from miles away.
It was said if you listen attentively, you could hear the familyy screams from all the way down the hills. If you look from any place in the city, you could see the flames rising up to the skies as if challenging the heavens. As if mocking the existence of water, of science. Mocking the knowledge every fire fighters were taught or previously believed in.
For a whole day, it razed.
From the rumbles, she was found with little burnt marks. Arcada Jovic. It was a miracle. That was the theme on everyone's mouth that heard the news. 'Miracle'. She was a miracle child until some years ago, her pristine label changed. Now she was feared; greatly.
Travis doesn't indulge in gossip but only a caveman won't have heard that story; that's how famous the Arcadas were.
He walked towards those hills. Climbing as the raindrops repeated their scattered reflection. All the way towards Queen's road; to the new unknown world.
His legs began moving with relish, invigorated by the spell which has possessed them to act without any control. He doesn't know why his body is suddenly feeling this level of happiness, he didn't want to entertain that kind of feeling, but It comes, waves upon waves of superficial happiness like that of a dog returning back to its owners house; that superficial happiness.
Strolling through a beautiful garden, with row of different kinds of flowers arranged neatly according to their species. He strolled around like if he owned the place,he could but he didn't. This estate he was strolling through belongs to none other than the Arcadas— his supposed captors.
He walked through the garden, coming in front of their massive house and suddenly like an involuntary reflex, his eyes was on her.
She was sitting on her windowstill, quiet and with a faraway gaze that reached the skies. She was like a picture. A picture of the essence of this world. The kind that Leonardo da Vinci would have splashed different ink in order to capture. Under a clouded sky marred by this frustrating rain shower, he was seeing a ray of sunlight.
Fuck, she was staring back.