The Tragedy of Eden's Gate

5 - Echoes Of A Bygone Tragedy

Shrieking startles me back to the waking world, which is not a very good way to start the day, I have to admit.

I open my eyes blearily and find myself stretched out on the sofa with a scratchy blanket I can't remember fetching draped over me. I'm freezing, with ice settling deep in my bones, and my head feels as though someone has taken a hefty swing at it with a sledgehammer.

The lounge is still quite dark, with a vague, cool rose light streaming in through the windows. Sunrise. All around, the house is creaking and groaning and shuddering in the wake of an unpleasant night, and I hear the familiar rumble of an approaching car. Ah. The gate is shrieking. Not lost souls.

I heave a great sigh and tug the blanket up to my chin. My mind is wrapped in tendrils of fatigue that numb the pain pulsing at the back of my head, and I can't quite summon the energy to sit up and face a world where a boy died in this house and I spoke with him last night.

When I put it like that, I sound in desperate need of a therapist.

Thankfully, this Sam guy is nowhere to be seen (believe me, I check the room fervently), and when my mum opens the front door, it's like she brings with her a ray of sunshine; a serene fog of peace.

She finds me, soon enough. In the midst of pain and ice and fatigue. She's in her nurse's uniform, still, with her dark hair tied back and her dark skin glowing with mingling exertion and victory after a long yet successful shift.

"Theo, love, what are you doing down here?" she asks, frowning lightly at me as she shrugs off her bag and dumps it unceremoniously at her feet. She looks exhausted, and I know the night has been a difficult one for her— no matter how much she smiles through it.

I'm intending to keep the more startling news to myself, but the words come tumbling regardless. "I fell over and hit my head and knocked myself out and I think I've got a concussion," I tell her pleasantly, rubbing my eyes and realising that I'm not wearing my glasses.

I find them on the ornate coffee table, next to my phone, and I definitely don't remember putting them there.

"You what?" she blurts out, looking a lot more awake. "And that's why I've got a missed call?"

I nod, even though she can't see me because she's too busy digging through her bag for a little flashlight and an ice pack. She bustles over and helps me sit up, only to shine the light directly into my eyes.

"Ow," I hiss, shrinking away from her.

"Theo," she snaps, squeezing the ice pack and handing it over.

Gingerly, I hold it to the back of my head. I let her fuss over me, checking how my pupils react to light (and burning my retinas in the process), checking my speech for any slurring, checking I'm not in dire need of an ambulance and a trip to the ER.

I don't really help the situation when I say, "I kept thinking I saw this... boy. That's a hallucination, right?"

"Sounds like it," she says, concealing a yawn even as she studies me closely. "I mean, if you hit your head so hard you knocked yourself out, it's no surprise you're a bit confused."

A bit confused doesn't even begin to cover it.

"I'm sorry," I say, guilt like a fist around my throat. She's had a long shift and I'm making things worse. "I'm fine, I swear. I took some painkillers."

"Alright," she muses, though she doesn't look certain. "Sleep it off, and if you don't feel better by this afternoon, I'll take you to the hospital— just to be sure, okay?"