H A U N T E D

f i f t y - t h r e e

f i f t y - t h r e e 

Four months later

Since the moment Alice saw her disappear from her sights, it is like there has been this hole in his chest that continues to rot away at the edges. Jack never knew hurt and agony like he did right now, and the sick thing is, he enjoys the pain. He's the one who continues to visit the places where she left her imprint. Their beach, the Northern Lights, the meadow...all the places she had touched and loved and breathed life into.

'The pain is a reminder that she was real'

That's how Ophelia once described the grief of her mother's death. He never understood the meaning of self-inflicted pain, until he started to think about the way she must've felt in her last moments. He would imagine scenarios where he'd rescue her, and helped her through the pain. The promise he made before her irrational fear of flying, to persuade her to board the plane, seems dooming now.

'If you're ever scared, I'm on my way.'

Now, she is away, hidden away, like a ghost. He reaches for the warm places of where she loved him, and it is cold. Jack stares at the midnight clouds above him, where she drifted to, and grabs the armchair he had sat on, in his hands. He throws it against the window, shattering it instantly, and causing the bluejays to fly away.

"AH!", he screams so loud, that it echoes and chases nesting birds from their trees in the distance. He continues screaming, calling her name over and over again, until it is the only word his mind knows. His screams seem to dig through the ground, searching for Ophelia in the depths of the dead. It is like an unknown melody that humanity was never meant to hear. After what feels like an infinity, Jack heaves a dry sob that shakes his core, staring down at floor. Venomous saliva forms around the corners of his mouth, as adrenaline pulses through him like a drug. His fingers dig into the hardwood floor, causing splinters to pile through his knuckles. He wants to dig through the Earth and swim in the fiery lakes of Hell, where he'll forever succumb to the darkness.

"Just come home", he begs the empty air. His mind goes back to early July, all those months ago, when pain had been a world away.

Three years later

Jack Cullen has been traveling this world for 684 years. 19 years of those centuries were spent with a beating heart and a taste for adventure and mischief. It was the daredevil in him that made him exactly that - the devil. Unlike a few of his siblings, Jack never held resentment towards himself for being what he is - a murderous monster who held little sympathy for human life. He embraced this lifestyle and tried to live life to the fullest, even with its limits. He was able to travel the world and discover places that still left him in awe, even after a few passing years. He enjoyed seeing past the borders that limit humans from seeing deeper. He enjoyed being able to dive into the ocean with no fear of being swept away to sea.

Jack never resented his immortality - until the day the phone call came from Mr André, Ophelia's Art-teacher. Jack was in her room when the phone call came. He missed her tremendously and spent the afternoon lying on her bed, closing his eyes and imagining how it would feel to drift into unconsciousness and dream of being with Ophelia once again, until she came back from her travels. Alice had called earlier to say she couldn't see Ophelia anymore, and Jack guessed it must've been due to the interference of spirits. His nose dug further into the pillow that smelled of her, as if welcoming an embrace. Flynn didn't know he was there, for Jack's own safety. If he did find out, Jack was sure he would've entered the room with guns blazing.

Jack didn't mean to listen in to the phone call, but the day was quiet and he had nothing else to do. He could recall it as if it were yesterday, despite it being three years ago.