Chapter 1 – The Soul That Would Not Die
Rain whispered against the cracked windowpane, soft and cold like the voice Benjamin hadn't heard in weeks.
He sat alone on the mattress of his near-empty apartment, his back pressed to the wall, knees pulled tight to his chest. The dim bulb overhead flickered, casting pale shadows across the peeling paint. The silence was suffocating—no television, no messages, no laughter, no accusations.
Only memory.
And the echo of a voice that sounded like his.
"You always protect him too much."
"It's not your responsibility."
"He'll ruin you one day."
They were right.
But Benjamin hadn't listened. Not when they were kids and Arthur lied about breaking Father's sword. Not when Arthur stole exam results and blamed their cousin. Not even when Arthur came home that night—drunk, shaking, his voice hoarse and eyes frantic—and said, "You have to help me. Please."
Benjamin had always protected him.
Even then.
---
The news broke the next morning.
A girl from campus had reported him—Benjamin—for assault. She was trembling, crying, her story vivid. The evidence pointed to his clothes, his dorm, even his DNA. No one questioned it. No one asked why the boy with a spotless record, a full scholarship, and gentle manners would do such a thing.
Because Arthur was gone.
He had vanished.
And in his place stood Benjamin, dazed and disoriented, not even realizing his shirt was missing or that he hadn't woken in his own bed.
He tried to explain. Tried to find Arthur.
He begged his parents to believe him.
His sister turned her face away.
His father looked at him like a stranger.
His mother simply whispered, "I raised better than this."
They erased him within days.
---
He dropped out.
There were no formal charges—there wasn't enough—but the stain remained. The campus refused to reinstate him. His scholarship was revoked. No employer wanted him. Friends stopped answering. Classmates whispered behind his back.
Only once did someone approach him.
A girl he barely remembered. She didn't say anything cruel. Didn't even mention the rumors. She just looked at him with pity and said, "I used to think you were one of the good ones."
That hurt more than the silence.
---
Now, the wind howled through the cracks in the ceiling.
Benjamin stood.
The apartment felt less like a home and more like a waiting room between life and nothing. He walked toward the kitchenette and opened the drawer. His hand hovered above the collection of notes he had written—and never sent. One to his parents. One to Arthur. One to the girl.
He didn't need them anymore.
Instead, he reached for the bottle.
The pills rattled like bones in a box.
He'd always been quiet. Never raised his voice. Never fought back. Even now, the act was soft—peaceful, even. Not a cry for help. Just an end. The only thing left he could control.
He swallowed them dry.
One handful.
Two.
Three.
Then he laid back on the mattress and watched the ceiling spin.
---
He remembered the park from his childhood.
Arthur had fallen into the creek, and Benjamin dove in after him, even though he couldn't swim. They nearly drowned. But Arthur laughed afterward, shivering and breathless, saying, "You're always gonna save me, huh?"
Benjamin had smiled back, teeth chattering.
Even now, the memory brought tears.
But they weren't for Arthur.
---
The world dimmed. His heartbeat slowed.
And for the first time in months, Benjamin felt warm.
---
But just as his breath should have stopped—something pulled.
Not forward. Not backward. Down.
Like claws dragging his soul through wet ash.
Suddenly, he couldn't feel his body.
Couldn't hear the storm outside.
All he could hear was... chanting.
Low. Guttural. Inhuman.
A flicker of green light pulsed across darkness, like a heartbeat outside time. Symbols—runes—burned across an unseen floor. A scent like blood and burning feathers filled his mind.
What is this?
He tried to move.
But there were no hands. No mouth. No voice.
Only soul.
Something had found him.
Something hungry.
And it wasn't God.
---
He felt it press against him—a vessel, vast and monstrous, waiting to be filled.
It didn't speak. Didn't promise.
It simply opened.
And Benjamin, already broken, already forgotten, already dead...
Fell in.
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[End of Chapter 1]
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