Atticus wasn't sure how to take everything in. He wasn't even sure that he could.
He was trapped in a room with six other people- Cahills- and was being cruelly interrogated by a psycho man with a gun and he seemed to be very trigger happy. There was no food or water, or any way to know what day it was. And they weren't going to get the hell out of there unless they confessed all of their crimes and sins or they find a way to escape.
Okay, now he had it. He just needed a moment to comprehend his death in the near future.
Atticus took off his blindfold to find Hamilton Holt, the strongest individual he had ever encountered in his life, with his head in his hands and his whole body shaking with unsettled emotions.
Dan was the first one up for the Tomas. He almost ran over to the older boy, soon throwing his arm over his shoulder the best he could and than let him just sob on his shoulder. The young mans sobs were the only sound to fill the room for the next day or so. When he finally ran out of tears, the dreadful silence was back.
Normally, Atticus enjoyed some peace and quiet, but not like this. Not where all of them were quiet because they didn't know if they would live, that they would have the blessed heightened of a predominant miracle that escaping this ghastly Gehenna would provide. They hated the quietness- and will hate it for the rest of his life. It would be nothing more then a perpetually, crucially vicious reminder of this.
This. Of how he sat in that damn despondent room, the disconsolately replica his undependable onerous death with the horror insanely swelling, nearly combusting his body to the close point of suffocation, almost drowning from within himself with the fearsome afflictions and finally killing him off before there terrorist did so. It be a much less hellish death, defiantly faster and less painful.
He really just couldn't stand it- the fact that he wasn't the only one thinking of this. He was sickened by the fact.
He hated- he loathed- how he could easily just glance, possibly even visionless sense the ungodly tremulous, the trembling agitational in their eyes and their facial expressions that reflected the collective hopeless fret they all were being emotionally and mentally swallowed entirely by their confessions. Their past.
Atticus had been scared of this before he was dragged in here, but he never feared it like this. He never feared anything like he did with this.
And that's what made him so weak, what made him suffer the most out of this whole torture gathering. He never wanted to be scared again in his life after the whole Vesper War. He vowed to himself that he would never put himself in that position again- he couldn't. He was just so scared of losing his brother or Dan or Amy. He could easily be along with the other Cahills that were kidnapped. He could have been with his mother again...
It was like a disease that was consuming him alive. Devouring him- eating him off little by diligently little. It was like an invisible beast that was always in his blind spot, slowly clawing him from his back and traveling to the rest of his body. It was like reliving his mother's death all over again but twenty times slower. It was the worst feeling he ever had in his life. And it just wouldn't go away.
Dan soon returned to his spot beside him and Hamilton went back to his with his head down low in total shame and embarrassment.
Two days passed. The man never showed up in that period of time. None of them spoke either. They didn't even discus an escape plan. No one did anything, really. Atticus wasn't even sure that they trusted themselves to breath without causing a scene.
The silence gave Atticus time to think of what the man exactly wanted him to ambit. It took awhile but he soon came to the answer in his mind and wanted to get the hell out even more.
Usually someone would just assume or already know what they would be blame for if they were in his and the others position, but Atticus just discovered it because he didn't like remembering it. He didn't want to think about it, much less talk about the secretive crime he did to his best friend and his family that basically took them in, and, even before then, accepted them as a member. He hating knowing that he betrayed them in the way he did, and it burned him inside his soul even more that they had no idea of it.
They didn't have a single clue. It was like the perfect crime that Jake tried to pull off, but the difference between them, like in everything else, is that Atticus succeed without trying as he failed miserably.
Once Atticus realized his deed, the memory took over his mind and wouldn't leave no matter what the boy did. He would try to think of everything and anything. He would silently recite the famous speeches throughout the years in his head. He would make up chemical equations and solve them. He would image himself free and away from the hellhole this damn room was. But it all lead back to what he was about to get...
And he shivered at the thought of being in the center, everyone listening to him as he gets railed by the man. The only difference would be Atticus would be sobbing, but no one would come to comfort him. They would be filled with anger and wouldn't care about him anymore. They would leave him for the gunman to take him. They had the chance. He knew it- like he knew everything else.
He dwelled on this for those two days till the man came back into the room. He walked in with the pistol still in hand and the blindfolds in the other. Atticus tried to avoid his lifeless eyes as much as possible. Soon, the man took a long good look at them all, like he was debating to kill them now or to have fun with them first. He than began his usual thing of putting the blind folds on each one of them. Sinead didn't look up to him, but Hamilton glared at him with rage in his blue eyes.
Soon, he was over to Atticus after Amy and Dan and he actually smiled evilly down to him. His eyes were...were...hell he didn't even know how to describe them. He just knew that he was next and the man couldn't wait to take him in.
Atticus started shaking then. His heart was thumping out his chest and his brain was racking up inside his head, almost like he was about to faint.
He felt a grip take hold on his shoulder, a painfully squeezing motion right above his elbow. He let out a yelp of fear and actually jumped back in fright. He was about to fight back, kick and scream and just try to stay out of that center till he realized he wasn't being dragged away and the man was laughing at him like he was a stupid fool.
The man soon let go of his arm and ended his laughter as he travel away from Atticus who was on the edge of tears with total embarrassment and relief. He wasn't sure if he was happy or horrified that he man let go.
"Come on, Monster," the man finally spoke up. "It's your turn."
The sound of a body being dragged over to the center lasted for a few seconds and then the silence came back. Atticus remembered the man mentioning the name Monster to someone before, at the very first trail of cruelty.
"Jonah Wolfgang Wizard," the man sneered at him, his voice full of disgust, like Jonah was nothing more then a smelly dead rotten. "The monster. The happy monster."
Atticus knew what the man was getting at. Hatred grew inside him, mentally screaming at the man that it wasn't Jonah's fault and it wasn't a blame that should be laid at his feet, but the young boy didn't have the courage to do so. Neither did anyone else.
"How is life for you Jonah?" The man began. His voice seemed to be oozing of fake interest and innocent concern. "Was it good? Having a rich, famous mother who was huge in the art industry and one of the three branch leaders at the time and then a father who was always there for you, to caught you if you fell off your bike or so. Seems like the perfect family, right?"
Jonah didn't answered. Atticus didn't know a lot about the topic of Jonah's household. All he knew was that it wasn't perfect.
"Picture perfect, correct? Well, on the outside, at least. And that was all that mattered, right Jonah? Right, like it should be. No one needs to know about the fact that, most of the time, your mother wasn't even there for you. That she was always out for her legacy in her art or her legacy in the Janus Branch. She couldn't have something as valueless, as unimportant as you to be what's left of her in the world- the Cahill world- when she's gone. What a cruel, ignominious shame that would be on her name."
Jonah remained silent till that moment. "I know this," he snapped at the man, anger oozing out of his voice. "Just get to the fucking point in all of this."
The man went on like he never even heard the boy. "And the times your mother was there, she didn't pay you any attention. Why would she? She didn't even like you as a person, much less her own child. Why should she give you anything more then a sideways glance? You were there until she needed you, and that wasn't it yet."
"Shut up!" the Janus screamed. "I said, shut up!"
"But daddy didn't like that now, did he? He was, indeed, the weaker one out of the marriage. Having children made him that way. It also ruined his dreams of being a famous musician. To have fame and fortune... but you ruined that for him, didn't you?"
"I swear to fucking god...," the rapper muttered in a mean tone.
"Anyway, your parents fought a lot when they were together, didn't they? Whenever your mother was home, and all she did was work, your father got mad and they would start screaming at each other, in raging fits."
"SHUT UP!" Atticus heard Jonah ordered him.
He even heard him jump to his feet and harshly march over to the man, probably taking of his blindfold in the process. "YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING, SO SHUT THE HELL UP!"
The yell made the room silent. The man himself didn't say anything at first, most likely stunned like he was before with Ian. But then, oh god, Atticus could hear the man viciously, mercilessly grin at Jonah.
"And this is how you reacted to all of that, right? You were being ignored. No one was listening to you and your cries or your needs. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You started to act up. You started to misbehave in every way you could. You broke things. You didn't listen to anyone. I mean, why would you, they didn't even listen to you. You even went into your mom's office and destroyed some of her most precious paintings. Literally ripping them apart and throwing them against the wall, breaking the wooden canvases to bits. It felt good, didn't it? It really felt good when you finally got her attention, didn't it?"
The man stopped for a short moment before continuing. Jonah didn't say anything.
"And that's when she finally did it. That's when she finally hit you. A slap across the face. Like this?"
Just then, a snapping sound broke out, followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. Jonah let out a groan of pain. The man wasn't done, though. A striking hitting sound took place, Jonah crying out in pain after each shot. There was some ruffing sounds, like the man was struggling with the beating, like Jonah was fighting back against him. But a single cracking sound came in and the fighting stopped.
"Jonah!?" Sinead cried out for him. A gunshot immediately followed after her call. For a moment, no one said a thing. Atticus thought that Jonah was dead. He thought Sinead was dead now. Two people dead right before him and he didn't see a single bit of it.
"Another one, girl, and I won't miss," the man threatened in a dark voice. Sinead was alive.
"Now back to you, Monster," the man snarled at Jonah who was hopefully still alive. Atticus heard a low moan of pain and a huff of an angry sigh being let out. He was alive. Jonah was alive.
"It was that hit, wasn't it, Monster? That hit, that hurtful slap, that finally proved to you about your mother. That slap was enough evidence for you to finally realize that she didn't love you. That she didn't care for you. You played second violin to her work, her power, her positions. You were nothing to her but a mindless, clueless boy she had to deal with. And your father. Oh, your father! The poor man actually had to deal with you.
Had to spend time with you and everything. Your mother was lucky enough to get a break from you most of the time. It was your father who truly suffered. He had to deal with this stupid child who thought he was entitled to something. The disobedient brat that didn't even understand what the hell he was doing half the time. Your father had the burden of having you around, he was the one who struggled with you."
"My father loves me!" Jonah yelled again.
"But your mother didn't," The man threw back at him. Jonah didn't respond and Atticus could basically hear his heart break from where he was.
"But still. Even with your parents fighting constantly, and the way you acted, your life was still a shit ton better then Joseph's, wasn't it?"
The man let that hang in the air like a feather, letting it slowly and softly sink into each and ever one of them. The name was what stung them the most. They didn't know anyone by that name. Atticus's mind raced to find a source but came up blank.
"Remember that day Jonah?" the man said.
Atticus could hear Jonah start to cough, poorly hiding his sobs.
"How you and the winner over there just realized you followed the decoy of Luna Atoma and that Erasmus went after the real Luna? You two raced over to him and you arrived just as Erasmus had her down on the ground, ready to shoot and kill the target. To kill Vesper Five. The same woman who killed his own mother."
Jonah was full out sobbing now, his cries coming out hard, like his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Atticus heard of the story and knew what followed next.
It's not his fault. He did it for Erasmus. Any of us would have done the same. It's not his fault!Atticus thought in his head, even though he knew it was useless.
"He was there, right on the edge. But then the Vesper spoke of her child. Her son that she claimed to be held hostage by the Vespers as well. And what did you do then, Jonah? What did you say as you and Hamilton stood there in that same room with the other two?"
"I...I..." He couldn't say anything else, his heart wrenching sobs wouldn't let him. He was grasping for air like a choking dog, and there was no way he could speak, especially of this.
"You told Erasmus that she was lying. That she was had no children. On record, that is."
The man spat at the rapper.
Atticus finally realized what this all meant, what the man was getting at. Atticus couldn't believe his ears.
"And then she caught Erasmus off guard, and she had him shot and dead before you could even think. You didn't have time to think. You only had time to act."
The room became suddenly darker, like the atmosphere just lost all the light and happiness and nothing was left except for dread and despair, guilt and grief, sadness and death.
"You picked up that gun and killed her. Killed her like her life didn't matter. Like she was nothing more then a toy. She was nothing but a demanding villain that just aimed to do nothing more but to destroy and to kill. To depart and separate true and pure connections. She was nothing more then a selfish, careless monster. She was you made over. And you couldn't stand the reflected sight of it. So you did what you did with everything else in your life that you didn't like, you got rid of it. You killed it. You killed her."
Jonah only cried harder, an answer for the man. Jonah's sobs were even shaking his voice, like his own guilt was trying to hurt him for his terrible deed.
"By killing her, you killed another poor soul. Luna wasn't lying. She really did have a son."
The man spoke the truth finally. Jonah cried even more.
"I-I didn't know!" he pleaded. He could barely get any more out, but no one recognized what he said after that.
"Joseph was only nine years old when he died. Not even double digits yet. He died it that rusty little room they left him in. They told him about his mother's death- her murder- and he cried so much that day. And he kept crying till his death. They didn't give him any water or food. He only died two weeks after his mother, due to starvation and heartache. But of course you already knew that, didn't you? Vesper One made sure of it."
Atticus couldn't comprehend all of the mans words completely at first. His head spun again with the information and he didn't believe it at first. Then it all made sense in his mind, then the shock settled in and stabbed him forcefully, all at once.
"I-I...," Jonah choked out, "I did it out of anger! She k-killed Erasmus! I had to do it! I had to! For p-protection for me and Hamilton! For Phoenix! For my family!"
"Phoenix!" the man screeched like a wet cat.
"Your cousin that you let get kidnapped in the first place. Poor, innocent Phoenix, who was the same age as Joseph? The same Phoenix that was soon reviled to be missing from the other hostages because of your deed and your family's failed mission?"
Jonah cried more, and Atticus wasn't sure that he could stand it anymore. He was so tired of the crying he had heard in that hellhole. All of the soul broken sobs that would forever haunt them once and forever, if they survived that damn torture.
"Poor Phoenix." The man sighed sadly. "He was thrown into the Cahill and Vesper war way too young. Just like Joseph."
The statement hung in the air, and Atticus couldn't help but fear the pain of the truthfulness of the fact. He wasn't sure if he could stand it. It was like a bullet to his heart. And then a bullet to his brain to realize that he was only two years older then them during the time.
"After the war, you went on with life. You kept performing your amazing music. You kept being adored by millions and millions of fans who didn't really know who you truly were. You kept on being the great Jonah Wizard. Not a single day went by that you actually stopped and thought about or even cared about your mother. About Phoenix. About Joseph."
"That's a lie!" the Janus boy cried out, his voice very weak. "I always cared! I always thought about them! How could I not?!"
"And then you decided to make things right between you and your mother," the man went on.
"You took matters into your own hands again and reached out to her for the first time since the clue hunt. You decided that it was time to make peace, and try again."
Jonah didn't respond.
"It took awhile, didn't it? Almost a year before she finally responded to the her needy little son who was crawling back to mommy. She began to talk to you again... well, she tolerated you, at least. Even more then she did when you were young, right?"
Jonah still didn't respond.
"Anyway, you and your mom began to at least speak to each other again. Forming a distant but somewhat strong relationship again. Soon, you both decided to meet again. The first meeting since the end of the clue hunt and she came to see you and your two broken legs in the hospital. That was the last time you ever saw her till that night."
Jonah sniffed again. He was soon crying again, Atticus knew it. He wasn't sure where the mans story was leading but he knew it wasn't good.
"It was that night in Paris, correct?" the man went on, his voice filled with fake joy and excitement as he continued, like he was reading a story to a bunch of toddlers.
"You were there for a concert for your Nation Wife Tour, and she was there for her work again. She always liked Paris anyway. You two decided to meet at the hotel she was staying at. You already had a key and everything. You even got her a small gift for the meeting. Some pricey perfume by her favorite designer. A nice gift a son would get for his mother, yes? However, after you travel to the hotel, got into the elevator and traveled up to the twelfth floor, you suddenly felt like stopping and turning back for some bizarre reason. But you went forward anyway, right?
Straight to mama. You knocked first... no answer. You knocked again... still no answer and so you got nervous. You finally use the room key and when you walked in, you find her there. And let's just say... she sure left you hanging, hmm?"
Atticus heard Jonah get up again but was soon stopped by the shocking ringing of a gunshot that seemed to shake the air in fear. Atticus waited to here the dropping sound of Jonah's dead body to hit the floor but it never came.
"Sit down." The man's voice was darker then before. He was basically growling. He heard Jonah softly obey him.
After about a minute of still silence, the asshole man spoke. "You found her hanging there. Her feet floating above the ground by a mere inch..."
Just then the man started laughing like he just told the worlds best joke and he couldn't help it. The laugh was a loud, dark, and booming snickering that Atticus couldn't get out of his mind no matter what. It was the kind that you hear in nightmares, the kind the truly evil villains have.
"I would take that as karma if I were you, Jonah."
The man finally calmed down. "You killed a little boy's mother and you find yours is dead. Odd, isn't it?" The man laughed more. The laugh started to fade, and, after the sound of an opening and closing door, finally went away.
Jonah soon started bawling. Straight out, uncontrollably wailing of pure emotions that no one could really and fully understand. Atticus took off his blindfold to find the young man on the floor, his face hidden away from the others. His whole body, that was now covered in bruises, raked in random small moments of shaking that looked like they hurt.
Atticus got to his feet and went over to the guy. He put his hand on his shoulder. Jonah looked up at him, like he was shocked to find him there. His dark brown eyes were enough to voice his question towards Atticus.
Why are you here for me?