Chapter 2: visit to Carter's home
1402 Words
The high-pitched, monotonic beep of a heart monitor pierced the heavy fog of Theo Carter’s mind.
He was drowning sinking into a dark, endless ocean where reality bled into a memory he desperately wished was real.
Suddenly, he heard it.
The soft, melodic sound of laughter.
"Theo, hurry up!" his mother’s warm voice called out.
"Mom, wait for me!"
For a brief, agonizing moment, he was a child again. He could feel the sun on his face, the cool grass beneath his feet as he chased butterflies, and the absolute safety of listening to his parents playfully argue over who loved him more.
Safe. Loved. Whole.
Then
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shattered the sky. Crimson flames devoured the sunlight. His mother’s smile dissolved into ash. His father’s voice was swallowed by the roar of destruction.
Theo’s eyes snapped open.
"Mom!"
"Dad!"
His heart hammered violently against his ribs. Cold sweat drenched his chest as he tried to bolt upright, but a sickening, white-hot agony shot up his leg.
"Ahhh!" He collapsed back onto the thin mattress, gasping through gritted teeth, nearly blacking out from the shock.
The room blurred into focus. White ceiling. Sterile walls. The faint smell of antiseptic.
A hospital.
The memory rushed back like a tidal wave the screeching tires, the frantic chase, the blinding fire, his father’s final, desperate push.
"No..." he choked out.
The door clicked open. A young nurse stepped inside, carrying a tray of medication.
She was strikingly beautiful no older than twenty-three, with smooth, porcelain skin and long black hair tied into a neat ponytail. Her fitted white uniform traced the soft curve of her waist, and the clinical white of her stockings disappeared into spotless shoes that clicked rhythmically against the floor.
Her soft eyes lit up with relief when she saw him. "You’re awake."
Theo didn't care about her beauty. He didn't care about the room. His desperate gaze darted past her, searching the hallway.
"Where are they?"
The nurse froze, her hands tightening slightly around the tray.
"Where are my parents?" Theo demanded, his voice cracking with pure terror.
The gentle smile faded from her face. A suffocating silence filled the room. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.
"No," Theo gasped, his body trembling violently. "No, don't look at me like that!"
"Theo..." she began softly, her voice heavy with pity. "You’ve been unconscious for four days."
"Where are my parents?!"
She bit her lower lip, her chest heaving slightly as she delivered the death blow. "They... didn't survive."
The words struck him like a physical blade to the heart. The air rushed out of his lungs.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"You're lying," Theo snarled, tears spilling hot and fast down his pale cheeks. "You're lying!"
"Your relatives came while you were in a coma," she said, her own eyes reddening at the absolute anguish etched into his teenage face. "They... they arranged everything. They've already been buried."
Theo’s world shattered into a million unrecoverable pieces.
Buried. Gone. Without him.
He hadn't been there to hold their hands. He hadn't been there to say goodbye. The two people who were his entire universe had been laid into the cold earth while he slept like a corpse.
A broken, ragged laugh tore from his throat a sound pure, unadulterated agony. He pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the excruciating pain in his leg, and buried his face in his hands. His sobs echoed through the cold, indifferent hospital room, raw and bleeding, carrying the weight of an orphan who had lost everything in a single night.
Hours later, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a bitter, biting chill.
Theo stood in the quiet cemetery, ignoring the frantic warnings of the doctors he had slipped past. His right foot was heavily bandaged, every agonizing step sending nerve-shredding pain up his spine.
He didn't feel it. The pain inside his chest was far too loud.
Two fresh, dark dirt mounds stood side by side under the gray sky. Two simple tombstones.
Theo stared at the carved names. His legs buckled, and he hit the wet dirt hard, sinking to his knees before their graves.
"Mom..." He reached out, his trembling fingers touching the freezing, damp stone. "Dad..."
The tears came again, violent and unstoppable.
"Why?" he wept, pressing his forehead against the icy headstone. "Why did you leave me? Why didn't you take me with you?!"
No answer came. Only the low, hollow howl of the wind.
He stayed there for hours, weeping until he had no tears left to shed, until his throat was parched and his chest was completely hollow. By the time the horizon turned a bruised, dusky purple, Theo forced himself to stand.
His eyes were swollen, his face drained of all color, but the tears had stopped. A cold, dead numbness had taken their place.
He looked at the gravestones one last time. "I'll come back," he whispered hoarsely.
The taxi ride back to Carter Village felt like a dream. Theo stared blankly out the window as familiar streets blurred past. Every tree, every shop, every corner was a phantom ghost of his past reminders of weekend drives with his father and quiet laughter with his mother.
The driver caught Theo’s deadened eyes in the rearview mirror, but the suffocating grief radiating off the boy kept the man silent.
When the car finally pulled up to his home, Theo paid and stepped out onto the damp pavement.
The two-story villa stood proudly among the trees. It was the house his father had built with his own hands, the sanctuary his mother had decorated with warm lights and beautiful flowers.
Theo stood at the iron gate, his heart pounding a slow, heavy rhythm against his ribs. The silence of the neighborhood felt unnatural.
He pushed the gate open.
Creak.
The iron ground loudly against its hinges. Theo dragged his bandaged foot across the cobblestone path, each step heavy as lead. But as he rounded the stone pathway leading into the main courtyard, his breath hitched.
The courtyard wasn't empty.
Dozens of people stood on the manicured lawn.
Uncles in dark suits. Aunts draped in expensive silk scarves, whispering behind manicured hands. Cousins standing in rigid rows. Every single prominent member of the Carter Family was present.
Not a single face held sympathy. Nobody offered a warm embrace to the newly orphaned boy. Instead, their eyes tracked him with a cold, predatory intensity.
Theo’s pulse spiked. The atmosphere was oppressive, thick with an unspoken, cruel malice.
At the very front of the crowd stood an elderly man. He was tall and immaculate, wearing a dark, tailored traditional coat over a posture that refused to bend with age. Silver hair was combed back precisely from his face, and his sharp, dark eyes burned with the unyielding authority of a man who had ruled the Carter empire with an iron fist for decades.
His grandfather.
Growing up, Theo had viewed the old man with absolute reverence. He was a figure of absolute power fair when earned, but ruthless when defied.
Now, the old man stared down at Theo. His weathered face was a mask of stone. No sorrow for his son's death. No relief that his grandson was alive.
The heavy silence stretched, thick enough to choke on.
Why were they here? Why were they looking at him like he was a stranger or worse, a plague?
Suddenly, the old man raised his heavy, brass-headed cane.
THUD!
The wood slammed into the stone pavement with a sharp, violent crack that echoed across the courtyard.
Every aunt, uncle, and cousin instantly stiffened, standing at absolute attention.
Theo’s stomach dropped into a cold abyss.
His grandfather fixed him with a stare so icy, so devoid of warmth, that it cut deeper than the bitter evening wind. The old man parted his thin lips, his voice carrying the terrifying weight of absolute judgment
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