Chapter 38

4 1 1
                                    

Peter - Now
Peter has felt cold before—of course he has. When he and his family would venture to the mountains and experience snow during the winter months. When he forgets to buy wood for his fireplace and he stays awake the entire night trembling beneath a thin blanket. When he stands alone in the rain, waiting for the water to wash away the emotions clouding his mind.

But this cold is different. This cold comes from inside of him. It crawls across his body like a thousand spiders and slithers across his skin like a coiling serpent.

Peter always thought of death as an old friend. He has seen them in other people's passings, and all he could do was await the day they came for him.

What he didn't think was that he would be leaving this world alone. He envisioned being surrounded by loved ones as they wished him happiness in another place.

In his fleeting moments of consciousness, he can only think of the cold. How there's something familiar about it, despite its inhuman nature.

A flicker of a memory. Peter falling. Someone arriving too late. The chill he felt when his skin brushed against Vicent's.

Him. He was there the day Althea was killed. He was there, and Peter doesn't understand how.

It doesn't matter now. He will be with her soon enough.

Won't he?

He doesn't know.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

He is slipping away.

He takes in a breath.

Lets it out for the very last time.

Tasteful DarknessWhere stories live. Discover now