Ethan stood alone staring down a murky Venice alleyway. It was dark, the only light source being a single dimly lit street light just behind him creating a grim yellow glow that the alleyway seemed to swallow whole, disappearing into the pitch-black darkness. The only sound was the barely audible buzz of the tired streetlight as it flickered. Everything was still, frozen almost. No cars, no people, no animals either. There wasn't even a breeze. It wasn't cold, rather it was warm, humid even, yet Ethan still felt cold. Cold and numb.
He stood frozen as if the very force of the stillness kept him in a place like chains holding him down. Or an oppressive straitjacket stilling him in the desolate alley. Paralyzed to the cobblestone. He felt none of it though. He felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. He should be afraid, panicked. Dread should be seeping into his very core. He should be attempting to move, to run. He should be screaming. But he wasn't.
It was as if his soul were dead. As if his heart were crushed. As if his brain had melted into nothing. It was like walking on air only the air was his entire being. Empty, invisible, flat, elemental. Not human. A mere shell of himself, hollowed out by the oppressive weight of the void that consumed him. There was no warmth in his heart, no fire in his soul, only the cold emptiness of a life drained of all vitality. It was as though his very essence had been snuffed out, leaving behind nothing but a vacant husk adrift in a world devoid of color or meaning.
But it's wrong. All Wrong. His surroundings, the stillness, the buzzing streetlight, the emptiness, what he was looking at. Everything was wrong. He was wrong. A human vessel that had a heart, a brain, a soul. But he feels nothing. Why? He should. That's what his heart, his brain, and his soul were for. Perhaps he really was that stoical after all.
Yes, that was it. Because he was staring at corpses, many human corpses. Corpses that he slaughtered. And yet, there was absolutely nothing in his soul, nothing in his heart, nothing in his brain. The coldness wasn't fear, nor was it apathy. It was blood. Their blood. Blood that had turned cold and dry. The stillness wasn't because no one was moving. No, it was because they had been moving, walking, driving. Until he'd stopped it with the gun in his hand. The silence wasn't because there wasn't any noise. It was because there had been nearly defining noises all around him. Screaming, crying, pleading. The sound of bullets piercing flesh, shattering bone, and creating the silence now.
As the truth dawned on Ethan, a sickening realization washed over him like a tidal wave of horror. The numbness he felt wasn't a product of stoicism or emotional detachment—it was a defense mechanism, a desperate attempt to shield himself from the monstrous reality of his own actions. His heart, his soul, his very humanity recoiled in horror at the scene before him, at the carnage he had wrought with his own hands.
Each lifeless body bore a silent testament to the depths of his depravity, a damning reminder of the blood that stained his hands and soul alike. The buzzing streetlight, the oppressive stillness, the emptiness—all of it paled in comparison to the chilling realization that he was the architect of his own nightmare, a puppeteer pulling the strings of death and destruction-
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"….than. Ethan. Ethan!"
His eyes shoot open like lightning, his entire body quaking as his mind slowly shifts back to reality. Ethan's breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to anchor himself in the present, his heart pounding like a drumbeat of terror in his chest. The remnants of the nightmare linger like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over his consciousness as he blinks away the remnants of sleep. Slowly, the cold grip of reality began to reassert itself, pulling him back from the brink of madness.
"Are you okay?" a voice pierced through the haze of his thoughts, grounding him in the here and now. He turns to see a concerned face peering at him, her eyes reflecting genuine worry. Ethan swallows hard, trying to steady his trembling limbs. "I... I think so," he manages to stammer, his voice barely above a whisper. The echoes of his nightmare still reverberate in his mind, a haunting reminder of the darkness that was still somewhere, deep down in him. But as he gazes into the eyes of the person before him, he knows one thing for certain: he would never let that darkness consume him again. A hand settles on his shoulder helping him sit up, his limbs still twitching involuntarily.
"Hey, Ethan, look at me…." Ethan forces his head up, his lips still trembling. "You with me?" He nods as those gruesome images keep flashing before him. "Ethan, do you know where you are right now?" His voice comes out as a whisper. "H-home? ….I-I'm home."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're home. You're safe. Can you tell me who you're looking at right now?" He nods, relaxing a bit. "Julia." She smiles back at him. Perhaps it is a stupid question but considering how detached from reality he can be after a particularly bad incident, it is fair.
Julia's smile is like a beacon of warmth in the darkness that still clung to Ethan's mind. Her presence offers a lifeline, a reminder that he is not alone anymore. Slowly, he begins to feel the tension in his muscles subside as he focuses on her reassuring gaze. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely, his voice still raw with the remnants of fear. "I'm sorry... for waking you." Julia's hand squeezes his shoulder gently. "Don't apologize, Ethan. I'm just glad you're okay. You know you can always talk to me, right?" He nods, grateful for her understanding. "Yeah, I know. I just...you've got more important things to deal with."
"You're important too," Julia insists, her tone firm yet gentle. "We're in this together, remember?" Ethan manages a weak smile, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest at her words. "Yeah, together," he echoes. Sitting down on the bed next to him, Julia wraps an arm around his shoulder, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. "Just breathe. It's alright now…." Ethan doesn't even realize he's still shaking. Leaning into Julia's comforting embrace, his trembling gradually subsides as her presence envelopes him like a forcefield against the lingering echoes of his nightmare. With each steady breath, he feels the tension slowly ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over him like a soothing balm."Thank you," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Julia tightens her arm around him, her touch a comforting anchor in the storm of his thoughts.
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They were happy for a while.
After Shanghai, after all that happened, Julia thought things were going to be okay. In a way, she felt closer to Ethan than she did before. She was finally allowed into his world, and now she understood what it was that had stood between them. And she was more grateful than anything that she was still alive, and so was Ethan, and if she had to she would kill those men all over again if it meant it would save her husband.
Of course, things weren't completely perfect - she was sleeping poorly now, constantly looking over her shoulder, and keeping secrets from her closest friends - but she had Ethan, and he had her, and as long as they had each other they would get through it. That was what she believed.
Who's watching the world while Ethan is watching me?
She liked to travel before Ethan. That was how they met, after all. But that was traveling for fun, backpacking through Europe, and zip-lining in Peru, as blissful and carefree as an American tourist can be.
Ethan had retired from the field, and for a while, it seemed that they could settle into their two-story house on the cul-de-sac and maybe get a dog and a Volvo, the whole package, but the day came when she got home and saw that look on Ethan's face.
"We have to leave?" she asked, but she already knew the answer.
"I'm sorry, Jules," he said, not for the first or last time. She would get tired of it, but right then she was still trying to be strong.
"Okay," she said with a smile. She told herself it would be an adventure, and they would still be together.
At first, they managed to stay within the States, so she could still see her family on holidays, but before she knew it she found herself in places like Turkey and South Africa, and Thailand. Eventually, she gave up applying for long-term jobs at hospitals and joined a locum tenens agency. They often had to avoid big cities. It was an adjustment and it was sometimes lonely. But she still thought it was going to be okay.
All it took was his hand, reaching over to hold hers as they lay side by side at night. The simple pleasures, like a starlit clear sky, or a breathtaking sunrise… made it all somehow enough.
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When Ethan heard her voice for the first time in about a year in Kashmir made his heart skip a beat. She'd asked him what he was doing there and he couldn't tell her anything besides 'I'm working,' but as usual, she didn't pry. As Eric walked toward them, Ethan tilted his head, Does he know? Julia shook her head and for some reason, Ethan felt relief. Maybe she could live a normal life, he'd hoped.
Though they'd only talked for a few minutes, Ethan liked Eric right away. He was kind and friendly.
They'd looked so happy.
'Well, I'm…..happy for you, truly.' And he met it. He just wanted Julia to be happy. There was nothing else to say.
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Ethan wanders downstairs to the dining room, the smell of food reminding him he hasn't eaten yet. Everyone else is already up having breakfast. Ethan smirks as he watches Eric attempt to flip a pancake with a much too-small spatula, failing miserably. "Guess practice doesn't always make perfect." Eric offers Ethan an eye roll. "I'd love to see you try." Ethan shakes his head, "Nah, you're doing great."
"It's easier said than done." Ethan returns a pensive look. "Says the guy with basically zero coordination." Eric waved the spatula at him. "Okay, fine. You do it then, come on." Ethan motions lazily, "You're quite entertaining, and you could use the practice."
"This is why I'm having toast." Adam grins and shrugs taking a bite of toast. "See?" Eric scoffed, giving up. "Wow. Thanks for the encouragement guys, seriously. I'm genuinely touched." Ethan takes a seat, "Anytime, my friend."
Adam snickers, mouth still full of toast. Chloe mimics a gagging expression. "That's disgusting," Adam retorts with his mouth still full, "You're disgusting." Chloe frowns back at him, "Oh yeah, that's mature."
Adam swallows and gives a dramatic huff, "You're the one to talk. Seriously!" Julia interjects quickly, "Alright, that's enough. it's too early for this." Adam smiles while giving a pouty face, "It's 7:30! That's not early! Besides, it's the weekend."
"Oh, so since it's the weekend, it's never too early, is that it?" The kids exchange a glance and nod simultaneously.
"Yes!" Julia returns their wide-eyed look. "I guess I didn't get the memo. Did you guys?" Ethan and Eric both suppress a laugh. "Actually yeah. Yeah, it's a new official law in the Invisible Children's Book of Laws."
Ethan shrugs. "Why does that sound made up? Doesn't that sound made up to you?" Adam attempts a neutral gaze, "Well…how would you know? It's invisible."
Ethan hummed, contemplating, "If it's invisible, how do you know it's a thing? How do you even write the laws?" Adam opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, trying to come up with an answer. Chloe glanced back at Adam, clueless. Adam sighs in defeat. "Dang it." Eric and Ethan high-five. "We actually got 'em!"
"Congratulations. One out of what? A hundred?" Adam can't resist the chuckle that escapes his mouth. "Still. I think it's worth celebrating, right?" Ethan and Julia smile and nod. "Okay fine, here," Chloe handed her dad the last piece of bacon.
"Alright, you're my favorite kid. It's for sure now!" Adam sarcastically throws his hands up, "Oh, come on! That's nothing!"
"Nothing tops bacon, kiddo." Adam laughs, "Okay, I see how it is!"
"Come on, Adam. Isn't it enough that you're my favorite?" Adam hesitates, a grin spreading on his face. "Okay, okay! Kids, eat your breakfast, please…That includes you two as well." Julia motions to Ethan and Eric who both nod. "Fair enough." As they eat, no one, not even Ethan notices the figure standing motionless across the street along the woodline, just barely visible behind the tree and brush that engulf it. Watching them. Unmoving and impassive.