Shades of the Past
by Kellnoa

Chapter IV
A Shadow of the Past

The room had once been filled with the soft sobbing of a mother and daughter, the thoughts of a father, and the emotions and unity of a family. Though it was a gloomy tone, it was much preferred over the air of uncomfortable silence that hung in the room despite the presence of several people, only broken by one, clear solid note that tore down faith and crushed any trace of hope. A soul had been taken from a family, lost to the strong hands of Fate. In return, Fate had given them the pain and sorrows that accompanied a death. It was an unjust bargain that many would refuse to take, yet would be forced to reluctantly accept. But with the fact that this had been the second sibling lost, and within two years at that, it was a bargain that was not only unfair, but also unbearable.

Tearing her face away from the security of her father's chest, Tami sought a view of her now deceased brother. She couldn't stand to see the finality of the look on his face. His eyes wide open and never blinking, his mouth somewhat agape, all plastered on a featureless paled head that, at that moment, seemed old and aged. She found it hard to believe that this - this shell - had once been her own brother that she often turned to in times of need. She found it hard to believe that this relative was now still, both on the inside and out, never to wake again, that this body was once alive and functional. Sadly, however, she didn't find it hard to believe how similar the body was to Travis' own face, pressed against that door so long ago.

A sudden movement from across the room now caught her attention. It was one of the many nurses that simply stood there, horrified at the loss of life in their attempt to save it, a sense of failure freezing them in their tracks. She watched as one nurse, the first to move in what seemed like an eternity, made her way towards the side of Ryan's bed. A sickened look momentarily crossed her face as she took a quick glance at the face of the shell, before taking the white sheets of the bed in hand, placing it over the head of Ryan. After this sign of the medical acceptance of death, she quietly exited the room. At that moment, Tami despised her.

One by one, everyone left, until all that remained were the immediate members of the family. But they could neither do, nor say, anything. Their minds were blank, but their hearts, overflowing with an aching pain, wept.

(-o-)

The scene around him had suddenly frozen; not a sound was made, not an action taken. The roar of the storm, thunder, rain, wind, sea and all, as well as the frightened screams and tears, had halted, replaced by the sound of his own ragged breathing. The people scurrying into corners or pounding against the door; the rough rocking of the boat; they had all ceased as well. Within seconds, the last scene of this mental movie began to fade away into the consuming darkness, leaving behind a young boy sprawled on an invisible ground.

Ryan was trapped in a state of shock, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed, a second death of his brother. His mind was too far gone to realize that he was alone, the sole survivor of his ordeal, too shocked to realize that he could move again. He was too shocked to find that he was now inhabiting a domain devoid of sound, light, or any signs of life itself. Completely isolated from the world, he was left to replay in his mind the information that had just been displayed right before his eyes.

The only problem was that his thoughts were still focused on that one moment that had changed his life forever. It was inescapable, despite how many times he tried to push it from his mind or place it behind him. Attempting to do so only made it more prominent in his mind, closing in around him, emotionally suffocating him. Those memories...those ghosts...they refused to make their presence unknown. They would not give up; but as for him...he was not so sure.

In the darkness, there came a soft voice. "Ry?"

Ryan subconsciously stiffened at the name. It couldn't be...

"Ry?" The voice just seemed to float in the air, coming from both one direction and all directions. There was no way of telling where the voice had originated from, but as to whom it belonged...that was a different story. It was a voice that Ryan knew all too well. It was different, yet all too familiar at the same time.

Ryan, without lifting his head, raised his wide eyes towards a silhouette, a shape a shade lighter than the black void, vaguely familiar. But as it approached, details began to emerge from the enveloping darkness. One thing that was immediately apparent about the "human", as one could once call him in the past, was that he was completely soaked, literally dripping with water. And though every step he took left a large trail of water behind him, he never became any drier, and still remained soaked.

Everything else about the figure was very familiar to Ryan, as he had seen him often during his dreams, or rather, nightmares, as well as from the memory that he had just viewed. Soaked mahogany hair and black blood framed the saddened and sympathetic visage that was on the figure's face, but veined hazel eyes forever wide revealed what had to be his true sentiments, both of them tainted with anger and resentment. Even in death, those eyes still betrayed him.

Coming to a stop before the figure that lay at his feet, Travis stooped low, momentarily eying the fear that his brother clearly conveyed in his exhausted state. He soon extended his clammy hands towards his brother's arms, lifting him up effortlessly so that he sat hunched over in a somewhat kneeled position. Satisfied, he then did the most surprising thing: Travis wrapped his arms around him in a gentle hug. "Ry..."

It was almost too much for Ryan to bear. He simply sat there, shivering in the embrace of cold, dead arms, making no effort whatsoever to return the act of compassion, or what appeared to be compassion. He couldn't fully grasp what was happening; this apparition, for as long as he could remember, had always been a constant reminder of his guilt, and would thus maliciously haunt and torment Ryan with every opportunity it had. Angry plays to Ryan's conscience were made through either reminders of how Travis died and what he must have felt, or offering words that would discourage any trace of happiness that Ryan would begin to feel. Travis' presence alone was enough to dampen Ryan's spirits. But never once had the ghost offered any signs of comfort or reassurance like he appeared to do so now, almost as if he were actually his brother.

After what he had gone through moments before, Ryan was willing to accept anything that was so much as slightly comforting, especially in a presence other than his own. He gradually began to sink into his brother's embrace, almost as if he were under a spell. "Travis, I-I'm..."

The phantom knew what he was about to say. Tightening his grip as he felt Ryan's body relax, he then whispered into his ear. "Ry, if you're so sorry, then why didn't you do anything?" A small smile crossed his face as he felt the body stiffen again.

"Wha...?"

Travis broke his embrace, his hands remaining firmly grasped on Ryan's arms, and faced his frightened younger brother. Gone was the sympathetic expression Travis had had seconds go, replaced by a somewhat stern and contemptuous look. "If you're so sorry, then why didn't you do anything?" He waited for an answer, but none came, and so continued in an annoyed tone of voice. "Throughout your..."experience", I noticed that you simply did nothing but sit and watch. You just observed the scene without making a single attempt to make a difference, to prevent my death. Why was that? Can you explain it to me?"

A silence settled in between the two, eventually broken by a shaken whisper. "I don't know...I-I couldn't move, I..." Ryan trailed off.

"I don't believe that for a second," the phantom responded, "as you know perfectly well that you had the ability to move. You could have performed any action that you would have liked, had you put forth the effort. In the case of this situation, it would have been appreciated if you had actually helped in getting the two of us to safety. Or rather, me, to safety, as you managed to escape unscathed."

Travis released his grip and stood. Slowly looking up into eyes filled with tiny embers of anger, Ryan tried to smuggle words in favor of his defense. But before he could, Travis stopped him, and continued as though Ryan had already spoken.

"This isn't about the memory that you were just shown!" he spat. "This is about the real incident. But if you really want to know, the reason nothing changed when you tried to act and make a difference was because you never did so two years ago. Your inability to move and change the situation just now was a reflection of you neglecting your actions, your moral duty, in the past, when help was really needed."

Travis began to walk a slow circle around Ryan, a hawk eying its prey, making the air tenser. "What I fail to understand, however, is why you were so determined to try and change the outcome of events just now. I'm thinking that during the second time around, you already knew what was going to happen. Before things began to worsen in your memory, you knew that you were going to be in a position that I was qualified in getting you out of, and that in the end, you would live, and I would die. All these years, you've been secretly wondering what would happen if you had gotten a second chance. And now that you were given that chance, you tried to alter the situation with the "good" intentions of mending the hearts of our family. Don't you agree?"

Ryan wanted to say no. He was willing to say no, feeling an urge to say it. Yet his mouth remained silent. Something deep within him restrained him from doing so. Though he felt that he had the right to say no, to defend himself in this personal prosecution, he couldn't bring himself to do so. A part of him, strangely, felt that he was doing the right thing by keeping silent, as that same part of him had taken interest in Travis' words. And almost believing it, too. Believing as though the ghostly Travis was...right."

"No answer? I guess I should continue, then." Bending down to the point where their eyes met equally, Travis continued. "What I think is that, you," he began, placing a special emphasis on "you" by pointing at Ryan, "did not try to act for the benefit of others. Our family, specifically speaking. You tried to act for the selfish benefit of you, and you alone. That's why you're second chance yielded the same outcome - because that's the type of person you are." Travis, as he talked, began to acquire a tone of resentment in his calm, restrained voice. "I say this because for the past two years, you've been going here and there with the knowledge that you were responsible for someone's death. And that knowledge is something that you, at your age, cannot handle. So when this whole scenario came about, you saw that if you could make a difference now, you could finally be relieved of that burden. Am I correct?"

"Y-yes..." Where had that come from?

"I'm glad that you're finally attempting to take part in this conversion. Really though, don't be so naive!" With a mild blow to the face, Ryan was sent reeling to the empty ground. Standing up, Travis began to circle around the dazed boy again, the embers of anger in his eyes now becoming a mild flame. "You selfish, ignorant little wrench! You're a fool to believe that changing a few fragments of your thoughts would make you feel better about yourself, or make mom, dad, and sis feel better! The only way that would ever happen was if you were to literally change the past! What you futilely tried to do just now would have been much more useful two years ago, when it really mattered!"

"No...it can't be true. He's wrong. It can't be...it's his fault, not mine!" The thought that Travis was wrong, despite how right he seemed, became Ryan's primary thought. Although part of him doubted the thought, he tried not to submit to it. He tried as hard as he could to force himself into believing that he was right, and that Travis was wrong. But can someone really believe that something is true if they have to force themselves in order to do so? Either way, he was fighting a losing battle, as the doubt within him continued to grow, even against the obstacles he placed against it.

Travis seemed to know what was on Ryan's mind. "It's no use trying to blame me for my own death!" he snapped. "I traded MY life, MY young, unfulfilled life, for your filthy one. And how do you repay me for my noble deed? By wrecking and destroying my grave, my memorial, the one thing left of me that our family has? What are you trying to do, make matters worse for them! You're a burden to our family, Trouleway. Or rather, you're a burden to our family, Ryan. You've disgraced the Trouleway name too much to even retain that familial status."

At that point, the force of the words being thrown at him demolished all of Ryan's emotional barriers. He, as a whole, began to accept what Travis was preaching to him. He was the cause of what his family had been forced to go through. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized that it truly was his fault for letting his brother die. For letting his mother cry, his father feeling as though he had failed his family, and Tami suffering in her sleep, something which was supposed to be a safe haven for a person. It was his fault! His stupid fault! His stupid, damned fault!

He was the burden of the family, and that burden had to be eliminated. But wasn't that done already? When that force of energy had hit that tree, pushing him over the cliff? Wasn't he dead, because he sure felt like he was at the moment.

By now, the angry flame in his eyes was roaring with life, furiously manifesting itself through Travis' heated mouth. "And to finish it off, you react to this entire situation like an ignoramus by acting as though you can't go on with life, as though you're dead when you're still alive! For your information, it isn't cute. Life is supposed to be taken seriously! Do you even realize how valuable life is, because I do! In case you don't know, there are millions of souls out there that wish for the chance at life. Those that had it - you have no idea how horrid it is to hear them, screaming and begging at the feet of no one, to return to the living. It's like a drug that they're addicted to - and always wanting more. Then there are those who've never lived - and probably never will. They know that, and yet they still yearn for a taste of it."

"I," Ryan began.

"It took me too long to realize that life isn't a right, not that. Life is a privilege, one that you have to earn, not expect to be handed down to you on a silver platter. That, or you have to be pretty damn lucky, even for a tiny second at life, let alone a full-blown one. People don't realize that it is a rare thing to live."

"Travis, I-" Ryan tried to interrupt, but Travis was already pouring his pent-up anger into his speech, and showed no signs of ceasing soon.

"But you," he trailed, his eyes darkening with anger, "you've obviously abused that privilege with the way you live now! You even went as far as to nearly taking your own life! I can't even comprehend how - how you managed to get that gift, even with luck! It's unfair to those who'll never have it, it's unfair to those that had had it and lost it, and it's unfair to me, since I was robbed of it!"

"Travis, I'm sorry!" He finally managed to get the words out, but it only added fuel to Travis' anger.

"You're sorry! Sorry for what!" he spat, restraining himself from striking another blow at Ryan. "Sorry isn't going to change the fact that I'm dead! Sorry isn't going to change the fact that our family has had to suffer everyday because of your poor judgment in situations where you are needed! Sorry isn't going to change the fact that you've been acting like an idiot for the past two years!"

"Face it! You should have been the one to go years ago! You should be where I am now; I should still be alive! You stole my dreams and aspirations, my ENTIRE life, and tossed it aside with the rest of your shit! You don't give a damn about me, about your family, or about yourself! All you care about is the helpless act that you love to deal, and the cheep pity you rake in from others!"

Ryan could only stare up as the twisted truth began to painfully bury itself inside of him, like a knife drilling into flesh. He could only stare in horror at the image of his dead brother, knowing full well that he had caused him to be this way. That he had caused unjust pain to the one that he claimed he loved. The abuse that Ryan had been forced to endure these past few years by this person now felt fight and justifiable, though it did not seem enough to compensate for what he had put his brother through.

He stared up in shock as his brother raised two fists high above his head, a mad glint in his eye. "I'll never forgive you for what you have done to me or to our family! I just want you to die and suffer as I have, you bastard!" With that said, Travis put all his strength and weight into bringing down his balled fists onto the face of a frozen Ryan.

(-o-)

Standing next to her brother's deathbed, Tami could do nothing more than stare at the blinding white sheet that provided a thin barrier between the living and the dead. Drops of sorrow found their way from her eyes to that sheet as she thought about all the times that they had spent together, both with and without Travis. She had often heard that thinking about happy times spent with a person would greatly heal the pain. But she didn't feel healed. As she thought about those times, she felt empty, as though there were a void in her. And she could feel with a pained fear that, as time went on, the void would always be there as a constant reminder of what she had lost, even if it diminished in size. The pain the void brought about increased as she realized that there would be no more happy times with her brother, that she was now the oldest living child, left alone in the remains of a ruin called family.

In the back of her eight-year old mind, she also thought about how it didn't make any sense that Ryan would die in what felt like a moment to her. Just less than a week ago, he was active and healthy. Nothing had happened to him while he was here, in the hospital. He was perfectly fine, in a sense. She thought that he would recover, as she hadn't immediately lost him like she had lost Travis. But yet, he had left, leaving behind this shell of a body. But where did he leave to; where did he go? He was there, in that body, and then he wasn't. For the first time, she was viewing a body that was empty, a blank. Where could all of his memories and thoughts, his personality and emotions, everything that she had assumed was rare and precious, have gone? It just didn't make any sense that they would simply disappear, to be deleted.

"Ryan...I wish you were still alive," she whispered, placing a hand on his sheets, ignoring what was beneath, to brush away the tears that had soaked into the fabric.

Without warning, the sheets flew up into the air, exposing the corpse of Ryan, eyes still wide, and mouth still open. But instead of lying on the bed in an eerie silence, it sat straight up, screaming with all its new breath.

Tami screamed as she watched the dead act like the living. She pressed her back against the wall, and although she could go no farther, she wanted to get as far away as she could. Her mind, though easily overcome by reflexes, was racing with questions and emotions. Rationalization tried to claw its way toward her consciousness, but the event that was happening before her roughly pushed it back down. Here was her brother, presumed dead, screaming at the top of his lungs, a symptom of the living! It just wasn't possible!

In the first few seconds of the strange duet of screams, two figures rushed into the little hospital room, and froze in their tracks. One of them, Arthur Trouleway, nearly faltered as soon as he saw the scene, the effects of the surprise of the situation taking full force. The second, a physician, panicked at first, but years of medical training vanquished it in a heartbeat, his rational mind already searching for an explanation of the supposed "resurrection". His mind finally stopped on two words, though the results were highly irrational despite his search. Though he wasn't a religious man, it was easy to discern between the two, as he felt the answer in his heart.

It was a miracle.

E N D . C H A P T E R . F O U R