chains

Thomas Teach

Edgar "Nevermore" Adcock

Eddie Teach

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this is part of book of revelation!

It was a rare day when Thomas would walk the streets of Salem alone.

It hadn't been rare before. Once upon a time, the elder Teach could look into the emerald eyes of his little cousin and see a sweet smile returned to him. A glint of excitement, a wistful gaze in some other direction, maybe a bit of mischief behind a poorly veiled smirk. Anything but wild panic. Once upon a time, Thomas could leave Eddie's side without regrets.

Those days were over now. Thomas tried to hide it, tried to seem strong so he could protect Eddie from the terror that had consumed their lives. Thomas told himself that they stayed indoors and stopped talking to their friends for Eddie's sake. That between the wrath of a god and the prowling of a serial killer, keeping to themselves was the safest thing to do.

The truth of it was, Thomas could hardly bear to show his face anymore.

The past five months hurt like a dagger in his soul.

Every night, when Eddie burst awake from another nightmare, Thomas gave the same reassurance. "It's going to be okay. I'll protect you."

Every night, Eddie had the same response. "You can't."

Every night, the dagger in Thomas's soul plunged deeper.

The latter half of winter had been a blur, marked only by the hundred daggers that Thomas's soul had endured. The snow was long gone by now, replaced by rain as winter morphed into spring. The entire time, Thomas and Eddie had been showered with strange, suspect gifts. Any time the duo left the house, they would return to packages on the front porch, the kitchen stocked with fresh food. Any time Thomas lamented not being able to save for a repair, money would simply appear. On Thomas's birthday, a present wrapped with bright red paper sat among the gifts from Sabrina, Tabitha, and Clef.

The acolyte that had cured Thomas visited often; once a week to ensure Thomas was healing properly. By the time winter's end came, and Thomas was fully recovered, she took her leave. Within that same night, the eyes that once loomed over the family in their own yard had vanished.

Thomas found it patronizing. Eddie found it terrifying. For weeks the poor kid would refuse to eat anything but what he could steal for himself, fearing poison in the kitchen and curses in the gifted gold. He hid from sight whenever War's acolyte drew near, and wouldn't come out until long after she was gone. The invading present turned Thomas's birthday into a nightmare. Seeing the eyes had gone from outside the house gave Eddie some relief, but it didn't last. The rest of the eyes in Salem still watched their every move.

Now, in the brisk rain, on a pitch black night bordering Easter, Thomas stood at the edge of an endless courtyard, so large it defied exaggeration. Perfectly kept grass, flowers that seemed to wave at Thomas in the moonlight, small decorations and stepping stones that led to various gardens and sanctuaries within the yard, some leading to smaller buildings peeking out from behind the monolith in the center of it all. A massive manor loomed over the entire property, a veritable fortress of wood and stone and stained glass windows.

On any other night, Thomas would've stayed home, or kept Eddie by his side to protect his little cousin. This was different. Thomas wanted answers. War was scheming again. War had been scheming, the entire time, and the Pirate was not leaving until he could make it stop.

One foot followed the other as Thomas trudged against the perfectly-kept grass, beelining for the center of the courtyard. Marching towards the monolith that split the property in two. Rage simmered in Thomas's soul, oozing from the metaphorical wounds in his heart. This god had been tormenting them. Looming, lurking, hovering far too close to Thomas-- to Eddie. Venomous thoughts filled Thomas's mind. What an honorable, noble officer, to stalk a preteen for months on end, over some scraps of paper. To only remove his all-seeing eyes when his bribe was fully placed.

Rage boiled in Thomas's soul. The Pirate was nothing more than collateral, he realized. A pawn in the deadly game War forced Eddie to play. The constant, burning feeling of being watched suddenly disappeared on this rare night, the moment he wasn't by Eddie's side. A chilling thought ran down Thomas's spine. One that he refused to put into words, one that made his heart race faster and faster, and his pace accelerated with it.

Thomas bolted down the courtyard, rage igniting deep in his soul. The journal that had started this nightmare was tucked in his clothes, burning a hole in his chest. He had planned to give it back and free them both from the curse that had consumed their lives. Now Thomas wasn't sure he should rest his hopes on that.

The rain's soft pitter-patter against the windows turned into a harsh, pounding drum. Distant, but loud enough to yank War from his slumber and back into the waking world.

A visitor at this hour...? War scowled. Perhaps he should be glad that this time, the intruder had elected to simply knock rather than inviting themself in. The god lumbered out of bed, through the halls, down the grand staircase of his enormous manor.

War took his time. The banging at his door grew louder and more furious with each passing step. War didn't speed up to meet its call. When he reached the chandelier at the main corridor, the god stole a moment to gaze at the painting that immortalized his first dance with Mayor Robert. A warm smile formed on War's face, before it was quickly wiped off by another wave of that incessant knocking. With it came a voice War had only heard through the listening bugs planted all over town.

"Open up, you stupid god, or I'm gonna pick your damn lock!"

War's wrath flared. He turned, trudging towards the door. Upon yanking it open, War was greeted by a damp, scowling younger man. The visitor's blonde hair clung to his face, his single blue eye burning with fury to match War's own.

"In what world do you have the right to announce to the heavens that I am a god!?" War hissed, glaring down at the man's soul. "And do you have any concept of time? Any reason to suspect I wouldn't be asleep at this hour?" He growled, turning slightly to begrudgingly invite the man inside. "The door is open. We will make this quick."

Thomas stepped inside. The door slammed behind him as War continued to fume. "Anybody could've heard you shouting out there. You are aware of how dangerous that is, aren't you? I would figure a man so dedicated to shadows and secrecy -"

"I don't want to hear it." Thomas cut War off. "Do you have any idea how massive your own property is? Your courtyard's bigger than my block. Nobody would've heard me 'sides a few owls." Thomas let out a scoff. "You and I, we're going to have a talk. You have answers. I want them, and I'm not leaving 'til I get them."

War raised an eyebrow. This man was bold. "You expect me to allow myself to be interrogated at nearly three in the morning?"

"You invited me in, didn't you?"

"Even then, you couldn't have waited for a more sensible hour to ask your questions?"

"Of course not. You're a god, but you're also one of Salem's ‘finest.' Besides... My cousin would kill me himself if he knew I was here," Thomas snarled. "So we're going to do this now."

War let out a deep, tired sigh. "Very well," he grumbled, turning on his heel and motioning for Thomas to follow. "I'll get us sat down, get some tea made... then you may ask whatever you like." The god's wrath simmered. War moved at the same slow, unconcerned pace he had when answering the door, putting one foot in front of the other just slowly enough that Thomas had to control his own pace to stay behind him. The pair climbed the grand staircase leading up to the second story, the third, the fourth...

The top floor provided an incredible view, at least. War walked with Thomas for what seemed like an eternity, leading the man towards a simple study room, nestled deep in the labyrinthine corridors the god knew by heart. "Wait here for a moment," he said plainly. Once Thomas entered, War turned tail and made his way towards the fourth floor kitchen.

It felt like twice as long of a walk for only a few short meters. This kitchen was a lot smaller than the others; hardly equipped for much more than making tea for guests and small meals for long nights. Exactly what he needed.

The procedure was routine enough that War's mind began to wander. For all of War's frustration, this conversation had to happen sooner or later. Thomas needed answers, War could at least give him most of them. He had planned for ages, had attempted to create the right opportunity for such a conversation.

Every time, those plans fell short, bottlenecked by the boy that War actually needed to speak to. Nothing that War tried had made Eddie feel safe enough not to flee on sight. War had hoped against hope that Eddie would allow him to speak his piece when the god heard the knocking on his door. Despite his frustration, War should have known better. He knew exactly why Eddie was left behind.

At least now War could ask Thomas some questions of his own. Most importantly, how to prove to Eddie that War was not the vicious beast the boy was so convinced he was.

The tea kettle whistled. The reprieve was over. War set two mugs of Thomas's favorite tea and the kettle on a silver tray. Slowly, he lifted the tray, backtracking through the labyrinth to greet Thomas in the study once more.

The facade of calm shattered when Thomas brought the tea to his lips. "Hm." The man glared up at War. "My favorite."

"I thought I'd have a rare blend like that in my kitchen." War's expression feigned nonchalance. "Is there... something wrong?"

"I wonder how you just happened to know about it," Thomas growled.

"Is that truly so important right now, Thomas...?" War tilted his head.

"How many of our conversations did you spy on before you figured it out?" The young man's eye narrowed, his face hidden by the mug.

War's expression flared. "Hardly any -"

"Don't play games with me, Nevermore." The look in Thomas's eye was sharp enough to cut a man down. "You haven't exactly been subtle about your surveillance."

"...I listened to what I needed to."

Thomas's hands shook with rage for a moment. The man looked as though he were about to scream, but before he could do something he would regret, Thomas took a deep breath. Set the tea down on the table in front of him. Forced himself to return to the facade of calm. "Needed to? What the hell do you mean you ‘needed to' spy on us?"

"You have to understand the position I'm in, Thomas." War sighed. "You already know the truth. Look at how it scared the boy. I don't - There's a reason a secret like that stays secret. In times like this, with witches and criminals running amok, the other townsfolk will assume that I, too, am one of those that seek to destroy Salem; that's the last thing I want to do. My interests lie with keeping the town protected. If Eddie could understand that includes him, that I mean you and him no harm, then..."

"You think it was the truth that scared the life out of my cousin?" Thomas took another deep breath, though his knuckles turned white. "You must have forgotten the part where you watched Eddie's every move and made sure he knew it."

"I was trying to prove to him that I wasn't a threat! It may have backfired, sure, but -"

"By watching him sleep until he couldn't anymore?" Thomas's facade of calm cracked, just as soon as it had been reformed. "You could have talked to me, could have given him space when you realized your scheme wasn't working, could have done anything other than stalking a child over a journal!"

"Thomas, you saw what Eddie became!" War pushed memories he shouldn't have seen out of his mind. "If I showed up on your doorstep asking for you, he'd have run off screaming at the sight of me and you'd rather suddenly have much bigger fish to fry."

"Oh, please. You're not concerned about my problems." Thomas let out a laugh that sounded almost like a scoff. "The police force you use to do your dirty work would have turned against you, and that's the only reason you'd have cared."

"It's the rest of Salem that I worry about." The weight of War's secret pressed down on his chest. "The force turning on me would be disastrous; who would be able to help you and your friends if they're all trying to hunt me down?"

"Certainly not your goons." Thomas's expression was torn between emotions. "You've always turned the other cheek when a real threat came our way."

"And with all of Salem turning on each other, you and the boy would be truly alone." War's voice was cold and serious. "That's why I needed to ensure you two understood I was looking out for your safety."

"You were looking to cover your own ass." Thomas's voice turned to ice in return.

"How, exactly?" War stalled for a moment, waiting for Thomas to respond. When no answer came, the god leaned forward. "Should I have left you to die, then?"

"Don't act noble now, you slimy bastard," Thomas snarled. "You would have left me to die, if you didn't need me alive as your bargaining chip."

"So healing a sick man and preserving a family means nothing?"

"You knew damn well what you were doing, Nevermore!" Thomas roared, the facade of calm completely shattered now. "You coerced the information out of Eddie long before you knew I was in need!"

"It was hardly coerced, Thomas," War chuckled despite himself. "Every time I asked a question, I got either a half-truth or an outright lie. The amount of steps I had to take to get even a shred of truth out of a boy who wouldn't even give me his name... how do you raise someone to be so deceptive?"

"Do you ever look beyond your own and see what the rest of us go through?" Thomas's voice grew more disgusted with each word. "You lie because it makes you feel better. We lie because it keeps us alive." Thomas shook with fury-- and something else, something that seemed to dredge up memories of a night Thomas wished he could erase.

"Imagine this, for a moment. You're no more than twelve, all on your own, locked up in a room with someone you've just found out is an all-powerful god. He has the capability of ending your life with a mere snap of his fingers..." A snap rang through the air, hammering home the twisted point. "But, he doesn't. Instead, this apocalypse god gives you a meal. He plays nice, distracting you, asking you questions that could bring his wrath crashing down on everything you hold dear. Who are you? Why are you here? Where is your family? Things like that. He keeps you around all night, like a little plaything."

The man's voice cracked a little. Thomas cleared his throat and continued. "The god holding you as his prisoner uses every trick he has to squeeze hidden, malicious meaning into his humble, honeyed words. He has you terrified out of your mind by doing something as simple as asking questions. Even an offer you desperately need sounds like dragging the one you love most into death."

War's skin crawled. He'd offered the boy hospitality and warmth in a time when both had gone extinct. Why would Eddie twist such a gesture of kindness into imprisonment and terror?

Thomas kept going, snarling now. "Would you have spoken the truth in Eddie's position? Would you have given a god every key he needs to snuff out the light of what you were?"

War thought, sipping his tea with a distant gaze. The memories of his youth floated past his mind; sitting in the dining room, father and sister making him a warm dinner the night he'd arrived at the mill that became his home. The way his sister had asked at least a thousand questions about where he'd come from and why such a little kid would run away from home. At least, before his father chided her for overwhelming his young self, and only asked if he needed a place to stay with warm food.

"If it meant preserving myself." War said after a moment. "I would do whatever it takes to keep my family alive."

"What do you think he's been doing the entire time!?" Thomas's rage threatened to shatter the mug he gripped like a lifeline. "Eddie thinks every attempt of yours to win his trust is a deathtrap in disguise. He's convinced the journal you want so badly is the only reason he's not dead right now. And I can't even tell Eddie he's wrong with a straight face."

"I tried to prove I had no intention to hurt him. I gave Eddie supplies, I made sure you were healed, I did everything I could to keep you two safe..." War leaned back slightly, struggling a bit with his words. "It's not out of intimidation by any means, I'm just... trying to help!"

"So when were you planning to send a Cleric for the neighbors I've lost to the plague that nearly claimed me?" Thomas's gaze was far away, looking south towards the mass grave that his side of town had become. "You didn't make such a spectacle of singling me out as a survivor and you as the hero who saved me out of the goodness of your heart."

War sat for a moment, taking another contemplative sip of his tea as he thought about what to say next. The silence itself was a confession.

Thomas snapped back to War's empty eyes. "I know damn well you're not stupid, Nevermore. If you really just wanted to help us, you would have considered doing the one thing Eddie's ever asked of you. You didn't. You chose not to. There's a reason you made that choice," Thomas hissed, his voice laced with blasphemy. "So what the hell is your real goal? What could possibly be worth destroying the mind of the only person I have left in this world!?"

War let out a sigh, looking at Thomas sadly. "The issue runs much, much deeper than just you or Eddie, Thomas. I needed your help, but only because of the magnitude of it all." He rose from his seat and stood by the window. "I needed your cousin to trust me just a little more so I could talk to him about... all of this. What I am, and why that needs to be kept as secret as I've tried to keep it. Maybe get my journal back."

"And then what happens to Eddie, in your fantasy world, when all of that happens and you don't have a reason to keep him alive anymore?"

"Then he goes free. Not once have I sought to do him harm."

Thomas froze. War could tell he was processing it. A glimmer of hope appeared in that icy eye, for just a second, before Thomas forced it down. "You're not as skilled of a liar as Eddie says you are." Thomas's venomous words hung heavy in the air. "You were more concerned with keeping your secrets under wraps than what you were doing to him. With or without the damn journal, he still knows, and you'd have scared him into silence until the day he fucking died even if he did give it back."

War scowled as Thomas's words settled in his mind. Frustrated questions boiled in his soul. War could see right through the bold facade. The paranoia these two shared made each other spiral, deeper and deeper, twisting the god's every move into a manipulation. How was he meant to bandage the wounds of this child's trust, when the slightest touch would make them bleed?

War turned his gaze back to the window, looking at the way the rain smeared the clouds through the glass. "I was never trying to intimidate that boy." War's voice dripped with venom. "I needed him to keep what he had learned to himself, yes, but only for a short while. If I could only speak to Eddie, he could understand when the time was right, when no other harm would come of speaking out. I wanted nothing more than to protect all of Salem, from the -"

"You wanted to protect your cushy position, you snake!" War felt the iron grip of an enraged young man clasp onto his coat. "How many times does Eddie have to beg you to leave him alone? Is leaving a child traumatized for the rest of his life worth it so you, a grown man-- a monster-- can continue living your lie as one of Salem's finest, with your piles of money and praise from everyone you meet!?" Thomas was snarling now. Deep, hoarse breaths that shook with fury escaped his throat like dragon fire.

"You invaded our lives, Nevermore! You drove the one person I love to a madness I wouldn't wish on you! You pretend you've tried to make things better by showering us in the ill-gotten gains that clearly someone else has given you, but you won't let go of the machinations that made Eddie terrified of you to begin with!" Thomas's hands trembled with raw, unbridled wrath. "And all you have to say for yourself is a vague threat of something else to come. So tell me, old man. Tell me everything. Why the fuck is this nightmare a lesser evil than bearing a little bit of embarrassment?"

The world froze in place. Wrath gazed into wrath. Like War himself, Thomas now had tiny flecks of red within his deep blue eye.

War glared, his own eyes set aflame. He silently grabbed each of Thomas's wrists, pulling them from his coat and practically throwing them back to Thomas's sides. "Very well. I'll tell you the truth. If you think me being a god is trouble, then the reason all of us need to keep it secret is simple. There are gods far more deadly than I. Those gods are rather interested in my whereabouts. I keep myself hidden, Salem doesn't get obliterated by things infinitely worse than a couple of magic-slinging nobodies."

"Go on." Thomas glared, but War only shook his head.

"I'm sure it's not enough for you, but that's all I can say right now," War folded his arms. "Though, if you help me prove to Eddie that I can be trusted, that I am certainly the least of his issues, I will answer any question you like."

"You want Eddie to trust you so badly!?" Thomas growled, fists balling again. "Then let him heal. Get out of our neighborhood. Get out of our lives. Don't let me see your cops or your all-seeing eyes or any fucking glimpse of you in our presence ever again." Tears fell from the young man's single blue eye. The door slammed shut.

War stared at the door, deathly still, nails digging into his palms. The good took slow, deep breaths. War allowed himself to relax, hands uncoiling just slightly. Fury and frustration filled War's heart. Every scrap of progress he thought he made regressed in an instant. He had given Thomas more information than he wanted, and only got a furious man storming out of his house.

War certainly wasn't going to get Eddie to trust him this way. The god was not ready to give up on his mission quite yet, though he was hesitant to try anything truly last-resort. Protecting the two clearly wouldn't work, but... perhaps it no longer needed to. Intentionally or not, War had intimidated the two: Eddie mainly, but Thomas by proxy in the name of protecting his cousin. That in itself was valuable.

As grim as War found the thought of acting like his own father would in a situation like this, he had to use every option at his disposal. War sighed, back to the wall, bright red eyes up towards the ceiling, the rain's soft pitter-patter against the window over his head doing little to calm the storm in his mind. For all his vows of doing all he could to avoid the same pitfalls as his father, could he truly stomach the thought? Worse, would forcing himself to do it be truly safer?

War let out a dark laugh. Nothing. That was the solution to the problem. Absolutely nothing at all.

"I believe you still have something of mine." War's voice boomed through the second floor of his enormous house. Eddie ran out of the kitchen as fast as he could, heart thudding in his chest. War thundered after him like a galloping horse. The little boy in tattered rags quickly bolted through the corridors, down the grand staircase, past the glittering chandelier in the main hall of War's manor.

Eddie reached for the latch at the front door and pulled. It refused to open. He tugged harder. The latch remained locked in place, shaking, rattling, taunting the boy with false hope crushed before his eyes. Eddie dared to look back. War stood perilously close, bright red eyes aflame with-- wrath, it had to be-- as the god stared the boy down. Eddie pressed his back against the door, keeping what little distance he could in this cramped foyer. When the god reached for the boy, Eddie flinched, unable to look at War in his enraged eyes.

A chill ran down Eddie's spine as the front slit of his rags flew open. Eddie barely felt War pawing around for the papers left in his rags. The boy's attention was on War's other hand, tightly gripping Eddie's shoulder to lock his body in place. Eddie tried to pull away, to resist the hand steadily climbing up his shoulder and towards his neck, but a little boy stood no chance against the wrath of a god. Eddie's quivering breaths came to a halt as War's hand clamped around his throat.

War laughed, a dark, mirthless sound. He lifted Eddie off the ground, watched the little boy struggle and flail against his grip. Every choked gasp of air Eddie managed to get out only inflamed the wrath of a god. War's hands tightened around his neck, strangling each breath Eddie dared to take, until he couldn't breathe at all. Eddie fought wildly to escape, kicking at air and pulling on War's arm, but nothing in the world could save him now.

The little boy's strength bled fast. His eyes burned with tears. His vision blurred, then faded. His limbs failed him, falling slack at his sides. War's laughter became muffled and distorted in Eddie's ears. The boy's neck shattered with a bloody crunch. The last thing Eddie would ever see was the bright red eyes of a god, piercing through the dark to gaze into his own.

--

Eddie tore awake in the dead of night, gasping for air and clawing at his throat. Rain tapped on the roof of his tiny home, dripped slowly through leaks in the ceiling, pooled on the floor around his useless bed. The little boy in tattered rags squeezed his pillow tightly, just to feel something over the phantom sensation of hands crushing his neck. Eddie wasn't in the manor anymore. He was home. He was breathing. He was alive. It was just another nightmare...

"...Tommy?" A sudden dread loomed over the boy.

The pouring rain drowned out all sound in this tiny house. Tommy just didn't hear him, Eddie told himself, to keep that dread from swallowing him whole. He scrambled out of bed and called again, loud enough to break the surface of the rain: "Tommy!"

Nothing. The world was dark, and silent. Eddie ran to Tommy's room, hoping against hope that his cousin would be there. All he found were sheets haphazardly tossed aside on an empty bed.

Visions Eddie refused to believe swirled in his mind. No, no, no, no -!

"TOMMY!" A frantic scream reached no one in the pitch black void of night. Eddie tore through the house. Every item and piece of furniture a child could lift was thrown about in a frantic search for the guardian who Eddie knew deep down was gone. Kidnapped in the night by a terrifying god, all because Eddie dared try to sleep. Wails of desperate terror burned Eddie's throat raw as he kept searching, kept running, kept moving. He couldn't stop. Every creak of the ancient house sent a fresh jolt of guilt and fear through Eddie's soul. If the boy hadn't succumbed to exhaustion that still made his body tremble in his desperate search, Eddie would have seen it coming. Tommy would have still been here.

Eddie knew there wouldn't be a miracle. He wouldn't magically find Tommy hidden somewhere in the house, beneath the soaked objects that had begun to pile up by the front door. Adrenaline kept him going, but the grip of just what was hunting Eddie down tightened around his throat. Eddie found himself alone; utterly, crushingly, alone. War was still out there, lurking just out of sight, waiting to snatch Eddie away just like he had taken Tommy. He couldn't keep quiet anymore. Salem had to know what War had done, before -

Realization struck like lightning in the pouring rain. Tommy was holding the journal today. The key to their lives was back in the hands of their pursuer. Eddie didn't have proof. His hope was gone, twisted into a mockery of his demise. No one would believe a thief and a liar like him over a man Salem respected. Eddie's breath quivered, his limbs trembled, his pulse thundered violently. A part of him screamed, over and over, that he was going to die. War had played nice and let them live this long, but now the god was going to slaughter them both.

And yet, the boy could not so easily accept death. No, there had to be something Eddie could do. The boy paced through the soaked wreckage of his own creation, fueled by twisted hope beyond all logic as his mind raced for a solution to defy the violent death that awaited him. As much as every fiber in his being burned to rush over there, to save Tommy while there was still time, Eddie knew better. A little boy stood no chance against the wrath of a god. War, in his rage, would crush Eddie as easily as he had ripped Tommy from his bed. He'd just be handing himself over to be murdered.

Eddie couldn't run, either, not yet. Not while War was stalking the darkened alleyways of Salem, hunting him for revenge. The minute Eddie stepped out into the open, he would become a beacon for War's wrath. If the boy was spotted fleeing in the night, he'd never make it out of Salem alive. The pounding of Eddie's heart sounded like footsteps in the night, sending a shiver down his spine.

Eddie instinctively made his way towards the cellar that had become his panic room. There were no eyes in there, and that would give him the slightest flicker of a chance. The emergency bag was still tucked safely away, freshly stocked with new supplies and weapons. Once War came and smashed the house to bits and didn't find Eddie there, the boy would have his opportunity to run for his life.

A thousand possibilities flared in Eddie's mind. He didn't want to think about them anymore. Eddie lit the candle in the depths of the cellar and hid within the patches of darkness it created. Seeing those long, terrible shadows made Eddie's breath jolt in his throat. The fear that had been pressing down on him finally broke through his thin resolve. Tears burned at the edges of Eddie's vision, and before he could stop them, they started falling. He quickly clamped a hand on his mouth to choke his faint sobs. Tension coiled tightly in Eddie's body, wound with wild panic. The boy barely held himself together, but he took a breath, deep and heavy and shaky with fear. This was the only way to survive. A silent mantra kept Eddie from shattering.

Thomas returned to his home to find he couldn't open the front door. Though the latch unlocked without a hitch, cracks in the wood revealed a pile of objects that smothered the entire door, blocking his entry. Thomas's blood ran cold. Shivers of regret cut past agitation as Thomas paced around the walls of his own house like a stranger. Half the windows were boarded up long ago, and Thomas treaded lightly, slowly, to avoid startling the poor kid who sealed himself inside. As he walked towards the nearest window that wasn't covered in wood and nails, Thomas stole a glimpse inside through the gaps of the walls, and saw fractions of what Eddie had done to keep himself safe when no one else could.

All because Thomas wasn't there. The one thing he had promised to do, and he couldn't even manage that.

The window lock gave a defeated click. Thomas slipped into his own house. It looked like a werewolf had torn through the place. Tables and chairs lay on their sides. Pools of ink mixed with pools of dripping water on the floor. Ruined books and papers trailed from the bookshelf that had been dragged over to barricade the front door, mixed in with a pile of various objects and weapons that nearly reached Thomas's height. The house was deathly silent, save for the rain that seeped through the roof, through Thomas's hair, onto the soaked floorboards beneath his feet.

The dagger in Thomas's soul threatened to pierce him through. He didn't need to be told what had transpired to create this scene of disarray and despair. Thomas went straight for the trap door that led to the cellar. He opened the door at a snail's pace to the sight of dim candle light flickering from the distance. The sounds within reverberated off stone walls, but Thomas descended as softly as possible, maneuvering gently through the tiny room until he heard Eddie faintly crying from the other side. Each terrified whimper that echoed through the cellar was a fresh dagger in Thomas's soul, laced with the poison of what he had done.

"Eddie?" Thomas called, his voice barely loud enough to break the surface of the rain.

No response. Could Eddie even hear him? Given the state the kid was in, calling for him again wasn't the best idea. Thomas quietly approached the little boy he had left behind. The elder Teach could barely see Eddie's tiny, trembling frame hidden behind crates and shadows. Before he could stop himself, Thomas's heart raced faster and faster, and his pace accelerated with it. The elder Teach's arms wrapped around his little cousin and squeezed as tightly as he could. "I'm here, kiddo. I'm right here."

Eddie didn't stop crying-- didn't respond at all. Thomas felt the iron grip of a terrified little boy clasp onto his coat like he couldn't be sure Thomas was real. That part of Thomas's soul screamed in his ears, called him every horrible name he could imagine for breaking his own flesh and blood. The elder Teach knew it was a lie, but that didn't stop the guilt from seeping into every corner of his mind. Suffocating silence filled the air, broken only by the hoarse sobs of a child...

And his older cousin.

---

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