Final Truth

Chapter 73: Going Back

Cassia's point of view:

Every tortured look, every painful recollection, every tear unsuccessfully held back between those two...

We watched it all.

Every hurtful word, every taunting jab, every breath shuddered in pain...

We heard it all.

And now, Peter lies on the floor, oblivious to the world and what's going on as Julia hovers over him, wiping away his destroyed memories so that he may live again.

Not one amongst us spoke a word during the entire ordeal, trusting Julia to handle it on her own when it came to making Peter understand. And I may never know what kind of memory she showed him, but it was enough.

Enough to tame a monster, if only for a moment.

I look over at Adam, head dropped into one of his hands in what I presume to be a mixture of exhaustion and grief, of frustration and defeat. No, he's not happy with this at all, but was anyone to begin with? Did we not agree that there was no other option?

Susan stares intently at Julia and Peter on the other side of the glass, eyes softened with sadness as her power offers her no solace from any of this, much less anyone else. Even joy sometimes cannot stand against the unyielding moroseness of failure.

Well, perhaps failure isn't the best word. After all, at least this way, Henley didn't get the last say. But even still, it is an opportunity that no one really wanted to take.

No matter now. What's done is done.

I turn my eyes back to Julia, heart beginning to crumble at the pain she's been put through, at the images flashing through my mind of what's been done to her. Her physical state, her actions, her mind, even the sound of her voice...it's all completely different in light of her experiences here. And this last thing she had no choice in doing, of taking everything away from Peter, damaged as it was, is killing her. Even with her back turned to us, black hair spread out like a curtain to shield him from our view, I can tell it in her stance. Back curved unnaturally and head hung low like a skeleton on a rack...that is the posture of defeat.

Julia gradually begins to still her hands, coming to sit back on her knees as she heaves a palpable sigh of finality before turning to face us.

Her eyes are bloodshot but devoid of tears, so hollow and absent of light that she could only be described as an empty shell, a place where a vivid soul might've lived before vanishing into nothingness. Broken, crumbling at the seams, so fragile that a breath of wind might reduce her to dust. But against the empty void, there's also a hint of relief about her countenance, a shade of gratitude at knowing she got him to agree to this.

She nods once, an indication that it's done: Peter's no more.

The confirmation is both a triumph and defeat, the two emotions combining and cancelling each other out to leave us feeling nothing. Yes, I suppose nothing would be a good way to feel about this. Or rather, numb would be a fitting description, because why does this feel like death when the person will still live? How do you view this as a good thing when it means so much has been taken?

Adam is the first to move in response, walking away from the glass and out of the room. Susan and I follow solemnly, vacating this place and entering Peter's lowly cell, the light seeming even darker than when we first arrived.

Nobody says anything for a few minutes, and the silence is painful, for no one wishes to acknowledge what's been done. It's almost like giving voice to this would make it all the more real, confirm that this isn't some wretched dream.