Drown the Devil

Chapter One

Chapter One

New York, January 22, 2023.

Alex had known good health all his life, but now in his thirtieth, good health could not dare speak his name. All the familiarity, the bond, the graceful moments spent together travelling worlds had waned, and in his death bed, good health felt to him as estranged as his grandfather was. As the malignant cancer cells ravaged his body and the clock of mortality ticked away, Alex knew that his days were numbered.

Alex’s luxurious abode, located in the heart of the New York, was a testament to his financial success. The apartment featured expansive windows that overlooked the city’s skyline, providing a panoramic view of the bustling city. The interior was sleek and contemporary, furnished with high-end pieces and adorned with abstract artworks. The hardwood flooring was complemented by plush rugs, and a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow throughout the living space.

However, as Alex lay in his bed, grappling with the debilitating effects of stage four cancer, the apartment no longer held the same allure. The once vibrant and bustling city outside now appeared drab and uninviting. He spent his days in contemplative solitude, pondering the transience of life and considering returning home to his grandfather's abode to spend his remaining days. The apartment, once a source of pride and contentment, now felt like a cage. The grand piano, a symbol of his artistic endeavors, stood silent and untouched in the corner of the room. The kitchen, once a hub of conviviality and merriment, now held only the bitter taste of medication.

What a dire world.

As Alex lay in his bed, surrounded by the trappings of his material success, he came to the realization that true fulfillment and happiness could not be found in wealth and possessions, but in the warmth and companionship of loved ones. Well, ‘loved’ is a strong word, he thought. He and his grandfather, for more than a decade, hadn’t had any contact following the death of his parents which he thought was his grandfather’s fault. Was it, though? He could never truly tell except no matter how many time logic dictated he let the anger and animosity go, his heart just couldn’t.

Right now, though, death by cancer was calling and his heart, once formidable, had found new and better ways to think. Thus, he made the decision to relinquish his luxurious apartment and return home to his grandfather, to live out his final days in the embrace of family and familiarity.

As Alex lay in bed looking up to the ceiling, he knew that’d be the last time he’d be staring at it from such deep perspective, because when he’d fly to New Orleans that night, he’d be walking into his grave. It was right after this thought that Patrick called his phone and snapped him out of the contemplation.

Patrick, for years had been his best friend, even though Alex though adding ‘best’ to friend was a bit of a stretch. They worked together all the time until a few months ago when Alex became very incapacitated to continue in the working spirit. One glance at the screen, and he weakly stretched for it, the weight of the phone feeling like a dumbbell in his hand.

Wincing ever so slightly, he managed to bring the phone up to his ear, swallowing before saying,

“Hey, there, Patrick.”

Wasting no time, “I’m by the door,” Patrick said. Alex frowned, registering the shock, spending the next four minutes in an agonizing attempt to reach the door and open it.

By the time he reached it, Patrick was placing gentle knocks on the door of Alex's luxury apartment, feeling a mix of emotions as he waited for his friend to answer. Alex could hear movement outside and soon, he opened the door opened, revealing his frail-looking self as he used a walker to support himself.

Patrick, his oldest and dearest friend, stood on the threshold, a mixture of emotions etched on his face.

"Patrick, what are you doing here?" Alex asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned on his walker for support, the weight of his illness bearing down on him.

"I heard you were leaving tonight and I had to come say goodbye," Patrick replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Alex stepped aside, gesturing for Patrick to enter. As his friend walked in, Alex couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that this would be the last time they would be together in this apartment. He had always taken pride in his success and the luxurious furnishings that surrounded him, but now all he could see was the finality of his own impending death.

"I can't believe you're leaving," Patrick said, turning to face Alex.

"I have to," Alex replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to be in New Orleans to live my last days. You know that."

Patrick nodded, unable to speak.

"Promise me something," Alex said, looking at Patrick with a serious expression. "Promise me you'll take care of this apartment. It's all yours."

Patrick's eyes widened in shock. "I can't take your apartment, Alex. It's too much," he said.

"It's not too much. It's the least I can do for you," Alex said, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Promise me, Patrick."

Patrick knew that this could be the last request from his best friend and he couldn't deny it. "I promise," he said, feeling a lump form in his throat.

The two men hugged each other tightly, both knowing it would be the last time they would see each other. As they parted, Alex looked at Patrick, his best friend, his confidant, and said "I love you, Patrick"

"I love you too, Alex" Patrick replied as he held him tighter, and with that, Alex closed his eyes, feeling at peace and with the knowledge that his beloved apartment would always be in good hands. He felt a lot of things in that moment, things he’d never felt before, and even when he flew first class about three hours to Orleans, he still felt the things.

As Alex stepped off the plane and into the bustling airport, the hum of activity enveloped him. The terminal was a labyrinth of travelers, their voices echoing off the high ceilings and marble floors. Despite the chaos, Alex's gaze was immediately drawn to his grandfather, standing at the edge of the crowd, a look of disbelief and joy on his face.

"Grandfather," Alex said, his voice barely above a whisper as he walked towards him.

"Alexander," his grandfather replied, his voice choked with emotion. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"I'm sorry it took me so long," Alex said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter now," his grandfather replied, embracing him. "All that matters is that you're here."

As they walked out of the airport, Alex's eyes were drawn to a sleek, black Barracuda parked at the curb. "Is this for me?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

"Yes, it is," his grandfather replied, a hint of a smile on his own face. "I wanted to give you something to make the journey home a little more comfortable. Well, and stylish. What do you say?"

Hell yeah, thought Alex.

As they got into the car, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. He was home, surrounded by the people he loved, and he knew that whatever time he had left, he would spend it with his family and old friends he’d left behind since the tragedy of his parents’ passing occurred.

"Thank you, grandfather," Alex said, looking over at his him.

"It's my pleasure, my dear boy," his grandfather replied, patting Alex's hand.

As the car pulled away from the airport, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the small moments of joy that life still had in store for him, even in the face of his own mortality.

As the car made its way through the streets of New Orleans, Alex couldn't help but be struck by the blend of old and new architecture. The car passed by gleaming skyscrapers and historic mansions, each one unique and beautiful in its own way.

The road was lined with tall oak trees, their branches reaching over the pavement like a natural canopy. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the car's hood.

As they drove further out of the city, the scenery changed. The streets gave way to lush green fields and sprawling estates. The car passed by modern establishments like shopping centers and gas stations, but Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnection, as if these places didn't quite belong in this idyllic landscape.

Alex's mind couldn't help but wander to his parents' mysterious death. He wondered what they would think of him now, returning home in this state. He knew that his grandfather was keeping something from him, but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

The car turned onto a private drive, and soon the gates of The Whisperwood came into view. Alex had never seen the mansion so grand and imposing, it stood majestically with its white columns and large windows, surrounded by lush gardens.

As the car came to a stop in front of the mansion, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He knew that his grandfather had been the one to raise him after his parents' death, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something his grandfather wasn't telling him.

As they got out of the car, Alex turned to his grandfather, "I know there's something you're not telling me, grandfather. I need to know the truth about my parents' death."

His grandfather looked at him with a pained expression, "I will tell you everything, my dear boy. But not now, let's go inside and rest first."

Alex nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew that the truth would come, but for now, he was just happy to be home. Alex looked out the window, breathing in the Orleans air but most importantly, the air whirling around the Whisperwood. It felt clean, liberating, soft.