Chapter 9: The Trial of Regret
The moment Quintin's hand made contact with the creature's, an electric shock of cold and dread surged through him. His body tensed as though it had been submerged in ice-cold water. His vision blurred, and he stumbled back, shaking off the disorienting sensation. The world around him shifted once more, the fractured reality warping and bending like a funhouse mirror, twisting his perception of the world.
When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the middle of a familiar scene: a rundown apartment, the dim light filtering through cracked blinds, casting long shadows on the peeling wallpaper. It looked almost exactly like his old place—small, cluttered, and filled with memories he'd long buried. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap coffee clung to the air, and a soft hum of a nearby television flickered in the background. It felt like he was being pulled into a memory, but something about it felt off, like the edges of the scene were starting to fade.
Quintin's heart rate spiked as he looked around, his breath catching in his throat. He knew this place. This was the apartment he'd lived in years ago—before everything fell apart. Before the betrayals, before the violence, before he became who he was now. He saw himself sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, his eyes bloodshot and distant.
The version of him in the corner didn't look like the person he had become—it was the man he had been before everything had shattered. The person who still believed in things like redemption, who still tried to hold onto a semblance of hope.
He saw a figure in the doorway, a woman with dark hair and piercing eyes. She was wearing a jacket, the same one she had worn the night she left him. The look on her face was distant, cold, and completely unlike the warmth it had once held.
It was her.
Lucia.
His heart twisted in his chest as he took a step toward her. She didn't move. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. Quintin tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. His mouth went dry as memories he had long tried to forget surged to the surface. He remembered the arguments, the accusations, the silence that followed. He remembered the night she'd packed her things and left, the final break in a relationship that had already been broken beyond repair.
"Lucia…" Quintin whispered, his voice barely audible, a tremor in his hands.
The woman in the doorway didn't respond. Instead, she turned her head slightly, as if she could hear him but chose not to acknowledge him.
"You did this, Quintin."
The voice was not hers. It was a darker, more distorted version of it.
He turned sharply, his breath catching in his throat, as the creature that had been his doppelgänger earlier emerged from the shadows, its hollow eyes locking onto him. The twisted version of himself stepped forward, its long, crooked fingers pointing toward Lucia.
"This is your doing," it said, its voice an unnerving blend of the creature's rasp and his own.
Quintin's chest tightened. "What do you mean? What's going on?"
The creature didn't answer. Instead, it pointed toward Lucia again, its form flickering like a malfunctioning image. She remained motionless, staring at him with an unreadable expression. The creature's voice grew louder, echoing inside his mind.
"You chose this path. You turned away from her. You abandoned everything you once loved. This is the price of your choices. The consequences of your selfishness."
Each word felt like a slap to the face, each syllable digging deeper into his soul. The memory of Lucia, her tear-streaked face as she walked out the door, burned into his mind. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her that he hadn't meant for things to end like this. He wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but the words wouldn't come.
The distorted version of him laughed—low, menacing, and cruel.
"It's too late for apologies. This is your punishment. The one you've earned."
The room began to shift again, the walls warping and stretching. Time itself seemed to slow down as Quintin found himself back at the moment he had tried to forget—the night she left. It played out before him in vivid detail, like he was watching a film of his life.
He saw himself standing in the doorway, helpless, as Lucia walked away from him for good. He could see the tears in her eyes, but also the anger. The frustration. The hopelessness. And he knew, deep down, that he had been the one to cause it all.
"You were supposed to protect her," the creature's voice echoed in his mind. "But you didn't. You couldn't. And now you'll live with that. Forever."
The apartment began to crumble, the walls disintegrating into nothingness. But even as everything fell apart, Quintin couldn't tear his eyes away from the memory of Lucia's face.
And then, just as the room began to dissolve, a voice rang out, cutting through the noise and the destruction.
"Quintin."
It was Seraphine.
Quintin snapped his head to the side, his heart pounding in his chest. She was standing at the edge of the fading apartment, watching him with a gaze that was both stern and compassionate.
"This is your past. It's not who you are anymore."
The world around him began to slow, the destruction halting in its tracks. The creature was gone, replaced by the shattered remnants of his own regret.
Quintin looked at Seraphine, his breath heavy and uneven. He knew she was right, but it didn't make the weight of his guilt any lighter. The trial wasn't over—it had only just begun.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the fading image of Lucia. It was only a memory, nothing more. But it was enough to remind him of the man he had been, the choices he had made, and the consequences he had to live with.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, though he knew the apology could never reach her.
The world around him began to shift once more, pulling him away from the memory and back into the strange, liminal space. But for a brief moment, he felt a flicker of something—maybe not redemption, but the chance to make things right.
The creature had shown him his regret. But now, it was time to move past it.
Seraphine nodded as Quintin rejoined her, her voice soft but firm.
"Let's continue."
End of Chapter 9.