Remember to read Solace Part 1 first :)

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~ 2 months after his death ~

“How does it feel?”

The voice felt awfully quiet. I remembered it being louder, yet the sound was fading slowly into a low ringing in my ear; all I could hear was the heaving of my own breath.

My feet were taking me somewhere, taking sudden twists whenever a corner or person landed before my blurred vision. I could feel my lungs ache in pain, and I couldn’t remember which street I was on anymore. Everything looked similar, especially under the heavy rain.

I eventually fought the bolting fear pulsing through my body and stopped my legs, resulting in a staggered tumble towards the pavement. I couldn’t feel anything when my knees collided roughly with the concrete. It was as if my body was entirely numb. Steadily, I took in several greedy breaths as I tried to block out the concerning sounds of my pants. But my attention quickly shifted when my body noticed the gradual change in weather. The rain was no longer drowning out my thoughts.

I could finally hear myself think.

It spared a moment of relief before I was stunned by a realization that settled sharply in my stomach. I began to notice that not only had the rain stopped, but the once twilight darkness was beginning to wither into slivers of shadow. Gradually, I could see familiar night lamps burning brighter and brighter, bringing further clarity to my mind. My eyes frantically soaked in the location; the battered building, the flickering neon sign situated on the front, as well as the pounding echo of music buzzing from the inside.

I looked up from the ground and stared at the bright sign hanging in front of my eyes.

“Crimson Star,” I mumbled under my breath as my hands dug roughly into the cement.

“No...,” I breathed out heavily.

“No, no, no, no, no….” I whispered frantically as my fingers dug harder into the firm ground. I looked down at my hands, feeling a slight sting as droplets of blood splayed onto the rocks beneath.

The music began to grow louder.

I could feel it pounding underneath my skin. Closing my eyes in irritation, I slammed my fists hard against the cement and shook my head in pain. My whispers were turning into screams and I couldn’t grasp control of my instincts anymore. My thoughts were racing too fast. The music felt like claws against my ears. But despite the torture, I knew that the worst was still to come.

Then, without warning, the screeching melody came to a sudden stop, leaving only half a moment of haunting silence.

“I thought you loved that kind of music,” a voice spoke from behind me.

My body turned cold and a noticeable shudder began to rack my frame. Squeezing my eyes harder, I pleaded, “Get out.”

The voice continued, “do you remember the name of that song? We used to dance to it all the time. You know when it’s like…just on the tip of your tongue but you can’t seem to remember it? Or perhaps, there is always the possibility that my mind has already built a wall around that memory and it would just be best to not try and disturb it.”

Then, before my mind could stop it, my body straightened up from the ground and turned towards the voice from behind. I still refused to open my eyes. But I could, nonetheless, recognize the familiar presence before me.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, I lifted my eyes slowly to face my never-ending nightmare. To face the figure of a dead man. “Grayson.”

“Hey you. Did you miss me?” He asked with a grin.

I could feel my hands tremble as I tried to steady my voice, “Please. Please. I beg you. Please just...leave.”

He took several slow steps towards me. “Now, isn’t that just a bit rude? Seeing as it was you who invited me to come here.”

He continued as he roughly poked his finger at my chest, pushing my feet back a little. “Hm? Am I wrong? Weren’t you the one who convinced me to come here? To this stupid club?”

Those words replayed in my head as a familiar wave of guilt engulfed me. His glare felt so sharp and exposing that it left me feeling naked and vulnerable.

His voice echoed hatefully in my ears, “What was it you said exactly? ‘C’mon Grayson, you don’t have to be afraid of being yourself. This place will show you that there are people out there just like you. You won’t have to worry about getting hurt for being gay here. No one will hurt you here. Please. Trust. Me.’ “

He gritted those words as anger flared across his face. Then he leaned in close, eyes never leaving mine. “You lied.”

My vision began to gloss over as tears threatened to run down my face. I wrapped my arms around myself just to hold onto something while taking several steps back. “I- I – I’m sor-ry,” I whispered.

He broke out of his glare before letting out a sarcastic laugh. “Really, sorry? Is that honestly the only thing you can say? You know I thought with all that pent-up guilt of yours, you would be rambling your mouth off with some excuse or shitty explanation. But now… that’s just really f*cking sad if you ask me.”

I closed my eyes for a slow second and tried to block out his presence. My thoughts wheeled backward to the past, attempting to chase after a lifeline. Desperately, I wrestled to break through the fog and remember what was once told to me. There had to be a silver lining.

Then, it finally came.

“Were you the one that was holding the gun?”

“No.”

“Did you put the bullets into the chamber?”

I shook my head.

“Did you tell those people to hurt him?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, there you go then. Those are the facts. The objective mindset you should be placing yourself in. Just because you brought him there, it doesn’t make you a murderer for what happened afterward. You were a victim. Both of you were. But, unlike him, you were lucky enough to survive this horrible situation.”

I let those words settle deep into my mind. Then, when they began to seep into the crevices of my thoughts, I took a slow and steadier breath.

Eventually, I was able to clear the lodge in my throat before staring back at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I said with a voice wrapped in both seriousness and sincerity. “But what happened to you was not my fault.”

He scoffed lightly while shaking his head and saying, “Oh my…look at you…pulling the innocence card so damn quickly.” Then, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before glaring at me again, “This is exactly what I can’t stand about you. Y-y-your obnoxious ability to make everyone so f*cking blind! Do you know that? Your friends, your family, the f*cking police, everyone. Only I, and I alone have to bear the real sight of you.” Then, he dropped his arms to his side and let out a deep breath, “Well, go on then, keep going. What other bullsh*t have they been feeding you?”

He continued as dark eyes scrutinized my every move. “Hm? C’mon, tell me. I’m dying to know,” he said while chuckling to himself, “see what I did there?”

Silenced breezed through the both of us. I saw the trap before the words left his mouth. No more. I refuse to play this game anymore.

“Nothing? Cat got your tongue or something? Alright, my turn then. You were told that you were a victim. You were told that you were innocent. You were told that you didn’t have me kil—”

I couldn’t let him finish. So he was suddenly left stumbling backward when my hands pushed him away. His eyes widened slightly in shock, but I didn’t let him continue. My voice was booming and angry. And in some way, it was the only way I knew how to drown out the guilt and doubt swimming around my mind.

Then I took a shaky breath before continuing again in a quieter, yet stern tone. “I know what you think of me. You think of me as some sort of monster, right? Or a murderer? Whatever you may think, whatever sick thing you have labeled me as, trust me, I have thought the exact same thing before. You think I felt innocent? That I didn’t see the blood on my hands? I constantly hear this voice in my head that tells me just that. But I- I know they’re wrong.”

Those words tasted bitter coming out of my mouth, but I had to keep going. Even if I didn’t believe every single word, I couldn’t let him do whatever he wanted.

I looked back at the building behind me. “That night. I couldn’t have known. I couldn’t have,” tears were once again welling up in my eyes as I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I couldn’t have known,” I repeated, “How could I have known? No one knew. No one could have ever known that men with guns were going to march through those doors and kill people for their own selfishness. And I’m sorry. I truly am. But I am not to blame.”

I hated how those words settled uncomfortably in my stomach. As if they were acid burning a hole to my insides.

He stayed silent for a second while his stoic façade returned and his eyes fixed back on me. Ones that felt like they were penetrating right through my cracked disguise. Then he spoke up, “What does the voice tell you?”

I felt caught off guard by the question but responded. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What does it tell you?” He repeated in a calm tone.

“Like I said before, it doe—” I repeated before he interrupted, “Tell me.”

“No.” I stood my ground but could feel my composure fracture.

“Tell. Me.” He gritted in a quiet mutter as he lowered his head and pushed both his hands in his jacket.

I shook my head.

I could hear him growl before he lifted his head sharply, fury evident in his expression. Violently, he ripped his hands out of his jacket and closed the small distance between us before grabbing my arms. I could feel nails digging into my skin as a scream echoed loudly in my ear. “ANSWER THE F*CKING QUESTION!”

He was only a few inches away from me and my eyes could only widen while I stared at the face before me. Then, this time, my stoic expression began to shatter. Entirely. When I finally soaked in his face and got a good look at him, every ounce of the disguise seemed to fall away. He looked exactly the same as he did that night. His hair was left in its own crazy but normal way. He smelled like dove soap and nature. His skin didn’t look pale like I remembered. It was filled with life and it should have stayed that way.

I wanted him back. I wanted to hear him laugh again. I wanted to see that infectious smile again. I wanted to turn time back around and erase that day from ever happening. He shouldn’t have died that day and it was my fault that he had. Grayson was right. I led him to his death, and he followed me wholeheartedly because he trusted me.

And it only made my heart break further when my body felt relieved by those thoughts. They were settling more comfortably in my stomach while at the same time, crushing my only silver lining to dust.

“You shouldn’t have listened to me,” I whispered. “You’re right. …you’re dead because of....” I whimpered as my voice stuttered with shame and fatigue, “A-a-and I think about it every single day because you are always in my head, speaking to me. Haunting me. And I just want no – I need you to tell me how to fix this. So I can stop… feeling like this.”

His expression was unreadable for several long seconds. Then, his widened eyes flickered over my face, as if he were searching for any signs of trickery. Eventually, his grip began to loosen, and his anger diminished slightly. He let go completely before brushing past my shoulder and walking towards the building behind me. I turned around and watched as he slid down the wall of the building with one leg flat on the ground and the other bent.

The silence carried on for a long moment.

Then I heard a small noise. I couldn’t really see his face since he was looking down, but it wasn’t long before he lifted his head and I realized that he was chuckling.

It was an unnerving sound. One that made my chest tighten and my stomach churn uncomfortably.

“What,” I asked tensely when his light chuckle evolved into a maniacal laugh.

His laughter eventually came to a stop as he calmed down and settled with a disturbing smile. “Sorry… but wow. That was just too easy, “he said sighing, “At least try to fight a little longer. You’re no fun.” Then he was brushing his hair back. “Your friends must not ask a lot of questions, do they? They don’t challenge you like I do. Not even Charlie is pushing it. But hey, I can’t blame him. He believes you because…well…he trusts you. But little does he know, the only thing coming out of that mouth is lies.”

Damn.

I really just walked right into his mousetrap.

“But I got to give it to you, that speech you made before was quite convincing,” he said with applause as he got up on his feet. “You looked like you really tried to believe in what you were saying…even though it only lasted for a moment.”

He looked at me with that slim smirk again as he pushed his hands back in his jacket. “Don’t worry,” he said. Then continued when confusion appeared on my face, “You don’t have to tell me what you’re thinking. Because like you said before, I’m apart of you. Like a ghost, right? Always speaking to you. Well, you are quite close on that one. However, I would describe myself to be more of an echo in your mind or a shadow to your flesh. But unlike the rest of your soul, I am not littered with lies. I see the raw honesty deep in your core and you know what they say, the truth will always reveal the monster behind the lie.”

I wanted to scream back and tell the voice that it was wrong. But I felt my throat collapsing from an invisible force. It was slowly becoming more and more difficult to shut the voice out of my head and ignore what it was saying. Even my limbs remained locked at my sides and the only feeling I could register was the stinging in my palms as something warm dripped down my hands.

Then, I heard a click and looked up to see him pull a gun out of his jacket pocket.

He raised the gun to my face and held it there for a moment. Then, he lowered it and threw the weapon in front of me, the clattering sound echoed loudly.

“Pick it up.”

My face morphed from widened eyes to frowning, sharp ones. My body almost stepped back to create some distance between myself and the gun, but in the end, I decided not to move away.

“Why?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets again and leaned back against the wall before speaking again. “You want this nightmare to end, right?”

I nodded.

“Then pick it up.”

I stared down at the weapon for a lasting moment. But I soon found myself kneeling down and picking it up, my hands immediately felt the heavy weight and smooth steel encasing it. Was this how a gun felt like? For something designed to kill, ready to kill, it didn’t look so…scary. But maybe that's the whole point. The gun itself is not a killer. It’s whoever’s hands it’s in that makes the decision between good or evil.

Then I stood up with it and looked towards him again. He wore a small smile this time. For once, it wasn’t a sneer or a glare. Instead, for just a second, he looked content. However, it was gone just as quickly and replaced with something more serious.

“Do you know what the hardest stage of grief is?”

I shook my head.

“Stage numero five. The almighty acceptance.” He announced with a pause before sighing heavily, “It’s the hardest part because there is a very human part of you that will always try to bargain and fight with how you truly feel. But in the end, the truth is the only thing that can help you move on.”

His words sounded like they were implying something. A part of me hesitated to ask but it was swiftly disregarded. “What are you trying to say?”

He only shook his head, looking frustrated. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Then, my silent response had him muttering to himself. “If you can’t even get yourself to admit aloud, then there is no way out of this nightmare.”

I still heard it though, and the tone made me determined to prove him wrong. “No, tell me. Please. Just…tell me.”

However, he just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms again. Then, after looking away dejectedly for a moment, he let out a frustrated groan. “Ughhh…you really know how to suck the fun out of things, don’t you? I really wanted you to say those words aloud, but…I guess actions will speak louder than words anyway.”

Then he uncrossed his arms and hung them limply by his sides. “Shoot me.”

My eyes widened slowly when the words reached my ears, the gun almost falling out of my hands. Then I whispered in disbelief, “What….”

But his body language didn’t change, he just stood in place. “You heard me. Take that gun in your hand and pull the trigger.”

The tremble that suddenly struck my bones surprised me. I could feel it in my fingertips but I wasn’t sure how hard it was showing. Nevertheless, my voice seemed to give it away. “Wh-why…h-how is that going to solve anything?”

But he just rolled his eyes. “I really have to spell this out for you, don’t I?”

Yet after taking one look at my frazzled state, he continued, “When you finally broke down, when you finally let that disguise fall, how did it feel?”

I could only look away.

“It felt good, didn’t it? It makes you uncomfortable how well those words sat, am I right?”

I couldn’t think of a rebuttal. My mouth couldn’t even say a word in response.

“Do you know why,” he asked, “It’s because deep deep down you know what kind of person you really are.”

Then, the realization hit me and I realized what he wanted me to admit all along. It made me take in a lungful of air when the words came out of his mouth.

“You know that you’re a murderer.”

“And the only way for this to end, the only for you to finally accept who you are, is to pull the trigger.”

His words seemed to pull at the deepest parts of my thoughts. It made my eyes sting right before they glanced down at the weapon for a painful second. We seemed to exchange a silent conversation. One where it warned me to stop. One where I tried to listen. Then, I felt something on my face. And I knew it wasn’t the rain making my cheeks wet, so I quickly wiped away the fresh tears trailing down. After that, I realized that my head was shaking head in response as well. “I can’t….”

However he just shrugged noncommittally, “I told you, didn’t I? Stage five is always the hardest. But everyone needs a helping hand so,” he said before taking a few steps forward and made his way in front of me. We were only inches apart now. Then his hand was over my trembling one and he was guiding the tip of the gun to his chest. Seconds later, he leaned in and whispered, “Admit it. Pull it.”

“This shouldn’t be…,” I whimpered, one of my feet instinctively took a step back.

But Grayson didn’t let me run away. Quickly, his hand left mine and gripped the barrel tightly, pushing it firmly against his chest.

I just pleaded. “Please…don’t make me do this…”

Then I heard a deep chuckle. “I’m not making you do anything," I could see him shaking his head slightly from my periphery, “These are just words. Thoughts swarming in your mind. Your actions are your choices.”

“However,” he whispered in a frightening tone, one that was bitter enough to be laced in venom, “one of your choices got me killed and I’m just wondering if you have the guts to make the choice of admitting that.”

My hands were visibly shaking by now. I could feel the cold metal tip twitching violently against his chest, even with his tight grip on it. But then, I took several deep breaths to calm down my shakes before sliding my finger into the trigger.

The only thing I could hear was the sound of my beating heart pulsing rapidly in my ears.

It felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

Nevertheless, I just closed my eyes and focused on the sound.

Ba boom ba boom ba boom…. bzzz...ba boom…bzzz

Then I heard a sound that made my body freeze up.

It was the sound of something ringing.

It was faint but I tried to focus on that sound and nothing else. As I began to listen more attentively, it only got louder and louder. When I opened my eyes, I could feel my vision become more skewed and blurred. The feeling of his body close to me was no longer there. Everything was disappearing, and my eyes were beginning to drift into a different scenery.

I blinked slowly, trying to re-adjust the blurriness in my eyes. Then looking around, it eventually became clear to me that I was in my bedroom. The sight made me huff out a deep sigh of relief when I realized that he was no longer in my head. The nightmare was gone for now.

I finally escaped.

Then, I realized that I could still hear the distinct ringing and quickly reached for my phone to see the caller ID.

It was Charlie.

The name made me quickly sit up and my hands went to rub away the dried tears from my cheeks. Even though he would only hear my voice, it felt like an instinct to not show people this side of myself.

Then, I cleared my throat and swiped to answer.

“Oh thank goodness, you answered! Is everything okay? Do I need to call 911? I’ve been trying to call you for like twenty minutes! We were talking, then suddenly you said you felt dizzy and then you hung up! Are you okay?” he asked rapidly with a voice filled with alarm and concern.

My mind was still trying to catch up to the present and it took several seconds for me to process his rapid-fire questions. But eventually, the gears to my thoughts were working again. “No no no, I’m all good. Sorry for hanging up on you like that,” I responded sheepishly, “I just had a lot of work to do last night and didn’t have the chance to catch up on sleep. I guess my body decided to take a quick power nap.”

His sigh of relief was heard from across the line. “Alright alright, well, in that case, I will forgive you for cutting me off mid-conversation,” he responded jokingly.

I just laughed in response before reacting in the same manner, “Whew, thank goodness. I was really worried there.”

I could hear him roll his eyes and it made me smile. Then he cleared his throat and I knew that he was going to ask a more serious question.

“Um…well if you’re tired, then I won’t try to keep you for any longer. But…what I was asking before…I just wanted to know how you’ve been feeling?” Then he sighed deeply, “I know that these past few months have been really tough for everyone, but I just can’t imagine how painful it must’ve been on you. I’m just worried…so if you ever need to talk about it, I’m just a call away.”

I couldn’t help clenching my fists. His words were just so kind-hearted that it made me feel guilty about lying to him. But then I remembered the recent flashbacks from moments ago.

What would Charlie think of me if he learned about what I had done?

However, my mind quickly brought its attention to my hands and I looked down at my palms. There were nail indents embedded on my skin. The flesh had been broken in and dried blood had stained both my skin and fingernails. The sight made my heartbeat quicken and thump heavily under my skin. But eventually, I forced myself to focus elsewhere and take a calming, deep breath.

Then I feigned a lively voice and my body language matched in response with a smile. “I know you are. It’s um… actually getting much better.”

Yet despite my cheerful response, those words felt bitter. And my fists could only tighten its grip once again as I allowed the lies to continue piling up one on top of the other.

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Leave a comment down below! I'd love to know what you thought about part 2 :)