The Cult of Romeo

XXIII. Mors Vincit Omnia

Act 3, Scene 6

Francis furrowed his brows and I practically saw the thoughts racing past his dark gaze. His eyes flickered back and forth between Henri and me, scanning us both for a resemblance. He saw the same brown hair, the same hazel eyes, the same defined nose and a light sprinkling of freckles that scattered across our nose and cheeks. If people at Burton Abbey thought Julien and I looked alike then I was just Henri with long hair.

Henri took bold strides towards Francis as determination crackled in his eyes. Every step he took was loud as his heavy shoes echoed against the stone stairs and it put my heart on edge.

Her brother, motherfucker.

His voice was as strong and as assured as the one on the telephone that night as Julien and I crept along the corridors. As beautifully deep and painfully familiar as it had always been.

"You're supposed to be dead," Francis frowned and Henri lunged forward. He punched my old friend square in the jaw, throwing himself into the attack so that the strength of his whole body pummeled Francis backwards.

While Francis was taller, my brother was stockier. With broad shoulders and thick arms, he easily grabbed ahold of the fight. Francis threw himself forward with a grunt and grabbed ahold of Henri and his frantic movements made it seem as though he were just moving on adrenaline and fury.

I felt Khaleel's stomach move beneath my hands in shallow breaths and my heart skipped a beat. I turned away from the battle for just a second to see his face that sagged with the imminence of death. His eyes drooped shut, his mouth hung open just a fraction and his eyebrows relaxed from their tight furrow.

"Please stay awake, for me, please," I begged quietly while the sounds of fists colliding with bones erupted from behind me.

Khaleel breathed harshly in response and I wasn't sure what it meant. It didn't even look like he was fighting anymore. He'd given up hope and his skin had turned a sickly colour.

D'Angelo stumbled out of the room now, eyes puffy and hair tousled and stuck up in an odd position. He wasn't eager to fight like Francis and I watched from the shadows, trying not to cry but not knowing whether I wanted to talk Khaleel through this or watch my brother move so powerfully through his fight. My dead brother was back!

It was a foreign feeling that had settled in my stomach; the same sense of anticipation that always seemed to manifest when I was younger and wanted to just talk with my big brother. I wasn't sure whether I had dreamt Henri up in my delirious state. I'd been to his funeral, my uncles told me he'd died, I watched my mother cry after we cleaned out his room. Why was he here?

Hesitantly, D'Angelo pushed himself from the crumbling wall and charged at Henri, latching onto his back and pulling him so that Francis could land a solid punch to his stomach. He hit once...twice...thrice.

"Stop!" I screeched. I couldn't get up and help though as the warm blood under my fingers reminded me of the dying boy just beside me who was fighting for his next breath.

"Mors Vincit Omnia," Francis declared as Henri fell to his knees. I couldn't speak or move or even breathe now. I was about to lose my big brother all over again, he was about to die before I'd even gotten the chance to make proper eye contact with him.

The room seemed darker now and Henri moved his head to face Khaleel and me in the corner. His eyes softened and a harsh breath escaped from my lips. He'd grown a beard since he left, long and scruffy, and dark bags under his eyes but he was very much alive. So much so that I wanted to just walk over there and grab his shoulders. I wanted to get to know this person.

Then, several more pairs of feet ran down the stairs and swarmed the area. I watched a head full of fiery red hair pummel into D'Angelo, a beanie-wearing boy grabbed my brother and the police wearing all black and shiny buttons surrounded Francis. His face paled and his hands fell to his side with a distraught expression.

He opened his mouth to say something but an officer pushed him to the ground. A few men in black approached me with cautious faces as the silver on their large hats glimmered under the yellow light. I wasn't sure whether I was crying or not anymore, I couldn't feel anything other than the throbbing pain in my wrist. I could have been saying anything, or anyone could have been saying anything to me, and I wouldn't have known. Nothing seemed to make sense.

A pair of arms circled my shoulders and it was Julien. He pulled me away gently from Khaleel's side as the officers carefully picked him up. I thrashed around in my cousin's arms and he finally let me free as the men in uniform carried my injured friend swiftly up the stairs. I stuck by quickly, not sure if he was even conscious anymore but knowing I had to keep an eye on him at every second.

It was raining outside and the audience trickled out of the auditorium slowly, shocked to see all the pale police cars and the bleeding boy who was wheeled into a white ambulance. Just as I was about to board the van with Khaleel, they shut the doors on my face.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, beyond hysterical by now. "That's my friend. He saved me. I have to go with him. He has to be okay!"

The officers ignored me and instead urged the driver to get to the hospital quickly. The panic on their faces triggered something deep within me. It was fear, such a deep-rooted fear of mine, of losing more people, that it almost felt like a manifested entity that was pressing on my throat and choking me slowly.

The ambulance, with its booming siren and flashing lights, took off. Though I was relieved that Khaleel would get the medical care soon, I just wanted to be right next to him. When I took my eyes off him for a second before, he was stabbed and I couldn't allow that to happen again.

I stood numbly in the cold as the rain poured around me, soaking my hair until it ran in tendrils over my flushed face and seeped into my dress. The water mixed with the blood on my hands until I was standing there, underneath the moonlight, with a pool of blood below me as the scarlet stuck beneath my fingernails and stained my face. Though my body felt heavier than lead with exhaustion, my eyes were glued open and intent on watching the ambulance go. I watched it until it disappeared around the bend, and even then I kept my eyes peeled.

Arms wrapped around me once again and I thought it might have been Julien, so I went to push him away. Only when he forced me into his chest and wrapped my hair around his finger just like my brother once did, I knew it was Henri who held me so closely.

He smelt so unlike himself and even his clothes weren't as soft and as new as he once wore. Everything about him was different now but nothing had changed too. I couldn't pinpoint it.

I just wanted Khaleel back and the not-knowing about whether he was even alive was what stung the most. It was a wrench in my stomach and a hook down my throat. There was a big chance that tomorrow morning, I could have been down a friend. All the thoughts that swirled around my mind gave me a numbing headache so instead, I cried.

I sobbed so hard that I felt bile rise and my eyes were swollen from the tears that ran so freely.

"He can't die," I heaved. "Oh, please, please no. He can't die like Henri did. Please, please not again."

My brother's grip on me tightened but he didn't say anything. And I was glad for it.