Page 4 of Covenant

Approaching the crumbling eastern wall of the old church, I search out the brick—seventh from the bottom, sixteenth from the left.

With trembling fingers, I reach out. My fingers scrape across the stone, leaving a stinging sensation. I don’t let it stop me. Don’t let myself falter. Breathing deeply, I summon whatever scraps of determination that linger in my mangled soul.

I remove the brick, place the request sealed inside a ziplock bag to save it from the elements, and replace the stone above it.

There. Done.

Oddly, I feel nothing. I expected some kind of zing of emotion. Anything. But no. I just feel resigned.

This is my fate. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. Perhaps I’ve always been lingering on the precipice of this choice.

I step back, exhaling shakily. I don’t let myself think about what price The Firm will demand. What sins I may have to commit or laws I’ll have to break.

I just think of Jackson. Of my eighteen-year-old brother, broken and fading in his bed.

I’m the only one he has to help him, and even I can’t do that.

Maybe The Firm can.

I wait for the panic to hit, the self-loathing, the utter contempt I thought I’d feel in doing this.

There’s nothing. I’m numb.

I have been for months now, ever since the day of Jackson’s accident. The day when my life began to fall apart.

As I turn away, I spot a raven perched atop a gravestone nearby. It watches me intently, oddly still in the pouring rain.

Ravens symbolize death.

Well, if that’s an omen for me, I don’t really give a fuck.

So long as Jackson makes it through this, that’s all I ask.

I can die for all I care. I’ve lost everything already, what’s my life in the end?

Nothing. That’s all I am at the moment.

A wisp, a ghost haunting the corners around me.

I have nothing to live for. Except him.

* * *

I step out of my car, the rickety thing beeping at me. It needs an oil change but I can’t afford it. Fuck, how I miss my G-Wagon. This hunk of junk has nothing on it. To be honest, I’m amazed it’s still drivable. Shit goes wrong with it every week but it keeps going.

About the only thing that does these days.

My hand slams the door shut and I step across the cracked pavement, trying to avoid the gum and trash littering the walkway.

I don’t quite manage and I feel the squish of something under the sole of my shoe. Fuck. I pull my foot up and spy the orange piece of gum glaring back at me.

“Shit and fuck,” I murmur, scraping it against the pavement. It doesn’t come off. Just gloms on. Like a fucking tick.

Hell. I wish I felt more than mild irritation. I’d even take fury right now. Anything that resembles a real fucking emotion.

Doesn’t work though, so I just take my shoe off and walk up the stairs with only my sock on. Describes me perfectly, half hanging on. Not quite all there.

The apartment complex looms above me, broken windows greeting me home. They’re the only ones who do these days, other than Jackson. It’s so far from the penthouse it’s not even funny. The only good thing going for it is that I share with my brother.

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