Page 115 of Seth
Seth didn’t know what to do or how to fix things. The tension in the air, appearing whenever they met, forced Seth to join the game of avoidance in the hope for time to set things right, but the abyss of misunderstanding between them only grew larger. Even the shared meals Seth had always looked forward to didn’t excite him anymore. Ignaz’s enthusiasm for food sank into oblivion, and he barely ate anything at all. Seth searched Ignaz’s eyes for a shadow of a smile but only saw the shadow of a man he’d come to love.
Even now, sitting at the white kitchen island, Ignaz forked a piece of Belgian waffle as his gaze settled on the nearby knife; bright morning light glinted off the edge.
Wanting a sliver of attention, Seth asked, “Is it not good? Do you want something else?”
“No, I’ll eat.” Mechanically, Ignaz lifted a fork to his lips and shoved a piece into his mouth, but his gaze remained on the knife.
Seth’s fists clenched. He hated this silent docility. Ignaz obviously didn’t want to eat. Seth couldn’t understand why he came down to have breakfast together when his body language screamed of his need to be as far away from Seth as possible.
A fork clanged against the counter. Seth got up, unable to watch Ignaz any longer.
Ignaz flinched, caution in every gesture. Seth’s core flooded with disappointment.
“I’m leaving. I won’t be back for lunch.”
Ignaz didn’t say anything when Seth grabbed his phone and fled the villa.
* * *
Anger.Despair. Anxiety. Misery. Sorrow. Seth wished that instead of being impervious to pain, he’d been immune to emotion. He drove through the dusty city, fingers squeezing the wheel so hard, his knuckles whitened. His jaw locked, and he couldn’t relax it. He didn’t understand why Ignaz cared about those people and went to their graves. Why their deaths bothered him. He should be relieved. He should be thriving. Seth would. Ignaz didn’t understand the simple fact, that after he’d met Ernst again, it was only a matter of time until events repeated themselves, and whatever Seth had done, he’d done it for him. There was no other way, could never be.
The other way…A sharp vision of the bloody bath and the pale, slack face invaded his mind, then flicked to the morning light glinting off the edge of the knife and Ignaz’s fixation on it. The tires shrieked as he U-turned the car and floored the gas pedal. He was sure he’d get a speeding ticket arriving on his phone, but that was the least of his problems.
Within five minutes, he was home. Blood thumped in his ears as he flew past the kitchen counter with the unfinished breakfast on it, then galloped upstairs, skipping two steps at once. The corridor had never felt this long, the handle of Ignaz’s bedroom nearly unreachable.
When he finally stormed into the bedroom, the door hit the stopper, swayed back, and bumped against his shoulder. The need to see Ignaz burned the air out of his lungs as his focus flicked from side to side, searching the empty room.
His heart stilled as the dread in his stomach grew stronger.
Where?Water splashing in the bathroom answered his silent question. He pushed another door open and zoomed in on scarlet drops, skidding down Ignaz’s forearm. A long vertical stroke joined the still fresh, red scar on his wrist.
Everything stopped mattering. Seth swallowed the sudden surge of acid hitting the back of his throat, then blinked. His surroundings blurred.
Nothing has changed. Nothing will change. It was all for nothing…
The spilled blood, the vortexes tearing at his soul and feasting on others—nothing mattered or had any impact. Ignaz’s smile had never returned; it never would.
Ignaz’s glassy stare settled on him. Crystal drops tearing down from his light lashes joined the pink water brimming in the bathtub. His hands trembled, and he looked at his wrists with confusion as if he didn’t know what to do next. “I... I’m sorry.”
The word Seth loathed with all his soul ricocheted against the inner walls of his skull. He watched red trickling down Ignaz’s pale elbows and dilute in the water.
I’m too late. I should have found him sooner. It’s my fault for never considering him. It’s my fault for being arrogant. If only I found him sooner…
He searched Ignaz’s eyes, realizing that the shine he had previously seen within was just light reflecting against the salt crystals in the dead sea of Ignaz’s soul.
It doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing matters.
Seth didn’t know what heat felt like, but now he was burning alive with chaotic emotions. He couldn’t blink, breathe, or swallow as the rage at his own impotence landed on his shoulders. The need to destroy clenched his fists.
“I’m sorry…” Ignaz whispered, a knife glaring in the electric light. He reached his bleeding hand forward as if wanting to touch Seth, but the distance between them was too big, and the gesture remained unanswered. His eyes pleaded for understanding, but Seth failed to provide it. It wasn’t just an attempt to escape; it was a betrayal.
He stumbled backward. His back hit the door handle. He turned it and dashed out of the ensuite, not seeing anything.
He didn’t realize where he was going until the metal door of the basement clicked closed behind his back.
Words burned in his head. He shouted, but his voice failed him, and only a silent push of air came out. He screamed again and again, but it brought no relief. The basement swam before his eyes as he darted from one workbench to another, crushing and breaking everything within his reach. When the basement lay in ruins and there was nothing left to destroy, he growled and smashed his fist against the wall, then again and again. He threw his fists forward without feeling pain. The concrete wall turned rusty, but that barely bothered him.
When his vision cleared from the red fog, his fists were broken and bloody. Glass crunched beneath his feet, tools and devices were scattered, overturned and broken. Seth’s throat closed, and energy drained from his limbs with a hopeless howl.
