Across Acheron

Session 19

I remembered something.

The world around me was drowning in gasoline. The sky was dotted with chemical clouds drifting like army men, the surrounding air tainted with black smoke which choked me until I wished I could stop breathing.

The ground I lay on was painted with soot, my hand stained black when I attempted to take a good look at it. There was some kind of pain at my side that felt like millions of snakes gnawing their way through my skin and towards my heart.

This was a different kind of memory. Usually I would just be a bystander looking at my past like a kid watching a fight, unsure what to do or what to say. I knew that I wasn't dreaming but I was still sleeping; I just wasn't sure since when. I felt the ache but I wasn't really dying. All I could do was lay still, breathe, and hope for redemption.

But then I heard him.

His familiar voice travelled through the smoke and gas, finding my ears quickly like spotting a firefly in the night sky. My body went rigid, a familiar move it had grown accustomed to. My breathing spiked as his voice came near; slowly, surely.

I felt his hands before I saw his face. My body disconnected from the ground, the scenery around me swimming as I was brought to my feet. We were on a long road; the only thing close to civilization was the obnoxious houses sitting pretty on top of the hill, each one a few miles away from the other.

In the distance, from one of the houses, I swore I saw a shadow.

You okay, Jack?

My eyes were finally able to focus on his face. I recognised the scruffy beard, crooked nose, and hard brown eyes that were peering into mine. It stole my breath longer than it should have and I almost felt my eyes well up with bitter tears. God knew that I had a lot of things to be sorry for, but his death wasn't one of them.

We hit a girl, I found myself saying. The words just seemed to tumble out of my mouth without me having to think them. I saw her. I felt her body against the car. We have to call the cops, Cillian.

He quit looking at me the moment I said that, like he couldn't bear to admit that I was right. Cillian wove my arm around his neck and began to pull me away from the scene in hasty, nervous steps.

You saw nothing, you hear me? He spoke between his teeth, trying to keep the fear at bay. There was no girl; we were never here to begin with. Someone jacked our car and we don't know where it is. That's our story; you stick by it or else I'll have to deal with you too. Now hurry up; someone is bound to see us if we don't move quickly.

I knew better than to mouth off, because I knew I'd get the shit kicked out of me if I did. So no words came out of me as Cillian and I hobbled away from our sin. I wasn't quite sure how to make sense of the whole thing and why I was remembering it then and not before. Nonetheless, my mouth was silent against the terror—not because of what he did, but because of what he would do if I stepped out of line.

I ended up looking back even though I knew I shouldn't have. My eyes caught sight of the overturned silver car burning in its own fire, threatening to explode. Shrapnel littered the roadside in different shapes and sizes, but that wasn't what caught my attention. What held it was the wad of long blonde hair at the front of the car, the rest of the body hidden. Blood pooled around her like a halo, forcing me to look away instead of running over to help.

Cillian wasn't lying when he said I was no different from him. The whole thing still puts a bad taste in my mouth. I hoped to God that I was a better person than what that memory showed me to be, because I would've blown my brains out in seconds if otherwise.