Le Desespoir: The Cursed Paradise

The House Is Haunted

The painter must have loved his subject because when he looked around the room, he saw more and more paintings of the same young woman. He tried to view more as he walked around, smiling until he saw one particular painting which made him freeze on the spot.

A pair of big doe eyes stared back at him from the canvas. He had seen the raven-haired beauty before him in his dream just earlier. She was smiling with a tender expression on her face as she leaned back against the chest of the man next to her.

"Oh God," Jerome whispered as his eyes focused on the other man in the painting— the man who looked exactly like him. "Oh, God," he whispered again, his heart racing as he stepped back and his eyes caught another painting, this time of a man who looked exactly like Austin.

"Austin, let's get out of here," he called nervously as he turned around to face his brother and his eyes widened in horror as he did so.

"What the hell are you doing?" he cried in panic as he saw Austin open a cabinet that contained antique pearl-handled revolvers. It was part of a set, and some were already missing from the case.

"Austin!" he cried as he ran to his brother's side as the younger man inserted bullets in the cylinder, put the barrel against his temple and released the safety lock.

He was about to pull the trigger when Jerome reached him and grabbed his hand away as the gun fired.

BANG!

Both men stared at each other for a few seconds. Jerome’s cheek bled from where the bullet grazed him, but he didn't mind. His attention was focused on the younger boy who still had a vacant expression in his eyes.

"Pourquoi m'avez-vous arrêté ? Je veux mourir," Austin sobbed as he tried to put the gun against his head one more time, but Jerome took it from him, threw it on the floor and kicked it away.

Jerome was very scared. His brother just asked him why he stopped him from killing himself in perfect French again.

"I wanted to die," his brother cried but he wouldn't let him.

Austin tried to reach for the gun once more and they grappled on the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" Jerome yelled, aware that Austin’s really not himself. He was acting as if someone else had taken over his body, and that one wanted his brother dead, but Jerome wouldn't let him kill himself.

"Je veux mourir," Austin told him once more and Jerome didn't have a choice but to give him a square punch on the jaw.

The blow was harder than Jerome intended, and his brother was sent flying backwards.

As if woken from a deep slumber, the younger boy's eyes cleared as he looked around him and gasped.

"What happened?" Austin asked. "Where are we?" he asked again as he looked around and stepped backwards in fright upon seeing his face on one of the paintings. "What's going on?" he asked in total confusion as he inched closer to his older brother.

"I don't know," Jerome sighed heavily as he wiped the blood from his face. "But I sure as hell want to," he continued as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let's get out of here," he said and they left the room which closed by itself as soon as they stepped out.

"Jerome…" Austin spoke for the first time since they returned to the study. "This place really is haunted, right? I mean, those are our paintings back there," he whispered as he pointed at the ceiling on the second floor.

"I hate to admit it, but I think," Jerome paused and swallowed hard "yes…"

The house was haunted, they knew that very well by now. Jerome’s heart still raced from his fear as he tried to stop Austin from killing himself when he was possessed earlier. They couldn’t chalk up what happened today as dreams. The throbbing wound on his face was very clear evidence that everything that transpired was real.

"Ah…" Austin flinched as Jerome slapped a cold compress on his bruised face.

They were sitting on one of the couches in the main hall next to the fireplace. After they recovered from the events earlier that day, the two of them remembered to treat their injuries.

"So sorry," Jerome’s face crumpled apologetically as he stared at the discoloration on his younger brother's jaw. "I didn't mean to hit you hard."

"It's not your fault. I reckon I might have been doing something really bad to make you do it."  Austin looked up to meet his brother's eyes and then a look of confusion marred his face. "What was I doing anyway?" He knew his brother would never ever hurt him intentionally.

"Ehrm…" Jerome looked away. "You were trying to use a gun," he answered.

"A gun," Austin stated as he thought, and then his eyes widened in alarm.

"My God, I was going to kill myself, right?" Then his eyes widened still as he eyed his brother's wound on the face. "Did I do that to you?"

Jerome flinched at the question but he nodded. "You were not yourself. You were like…" He couldn't say the word possessed since saying so would make things a lot scarier than it already was. "You were not yourself," he just said.

The younger boy became thoughtful again.

"If I'm holding a gun it means I nearly blew my head off," he said as he turned to his brother once more.

He had seen himself doing that thing countless times in his dreams but never had he imagined he would do it for real.

"Thanks – and I'm so sorry too," he murmured, pointing at Jerome’s wound again. The older boy would need anti-tetanus shots when they get to town.

"You're welcome – and don't mind it. Like I said you were not yourself earlier," Jerome answered and the two of them lapsed into silence, deep in their own thoughts.