Chapter 22

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The house was quiet and empty. Literally empty as any signs of anyone living here are non-existent. Last time I came by it wasn't exactly a hoarders paradise, but at least there was something. For a second I wasn't sure if coming back here was a good decision, but once I had another checkup with the obstetrician, and Cain was with my brother and Zane, I had some time to spare and here I was.

I made sure to make noise going down the stairs, not that it seemed to matter as Matt was busy sketching. He didn't stop or look my way and I was kind of glad as the chaos down here made up for everything up there. It was a lot to take in, and nearly double the number of canvases were stacked in rows against the walls. The floor had disappeared under sheets of paper and the radio that sat by a small coffee machine was only playing static. This wasn't what I had expected, and now I was glad I had come. Matt needed help.

"Matt?" I'd just met Uranus, someone we'd found out that should definitely not be messed with, and I felt more scared about what I was facing now than I had that whole time.

He didn't respond and clicking off the radio had his head shooting up and away from his current artwork. Squinty, bloodshot eyes looked me over but didn't seem to actually focus before he turned back to what he was doing. Matt had a beard, and it didn't suit him at all; his hair was longer and as I got closer he didn't smell like he'd cleaned himself for days. I stopped near some paintings, still wet and glossy but nothing about this was clear or like what he'd normally do. It was only streaks of colour, messy swirls and marks. A few pieces had holes in, others torn and shredded. Beyond his bad hygiene and the usual smells of paint and cleaners, something that reminded me only of death lingered.

"She's gone," Matt said roughly, almost as if he hadn't used his voice for a while. "Alice left."

As if hearing him, something sparkled by the radio and her oversized engagement ring sat beside it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, moving closer towards him.

"You ruined my life." He stops painting the black streaks on the canvas, suddenly slamming the paintbrush through it with a scream. The whole easel topples over as he kicks the canvas across what room is there. "And for what? Is this what you came back for?"

Matt motioned around the room angrily and proceeded to push all the paints and brushes, coffee cups and take out boxes off the table beside him with another shout before slamming his fists down onto it.

"You used me. She told me. All any of you do is use me, and you, you are the worst of them. You acted as if you liked me, that you could love me, and instead, it was just lies. It's all you and all of them, even her. Lie. Liar. And for what?"

"It wasn't like that," I weakly defended. "I'll help you get through this."

"No one is here to help me, especially you. You don't care. No one that comes here does, you're all just wanting more and more and more. The only one who cared was Alice, and you all chased her away!" He roared.

"Matt, please-" I started, stopping as he spun around with a small golden dagger in his hand. He held it out as if that would scare me away, and nothing about him resembled the guy I knew. "I do care."

"You only care about these fucking visions. Well, guess what," he raised the blade to his throat and I froze. "Fuck you!"

Matt suddenly stopped, his hand dropping the blade before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed in front of me. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding as he let out a loud snore. I'd never been more thankful for the presence behind me that did what I wasn't going to have been fast enough to do - save him.

"You followed me?" I couldn't even sound annoyed about it as Cain collected the dagger.

"I had a feeling you might come here and it didn't sit well. He's kind of right. You can't help him, he's losing his mind or already lost it," Cain sighed, inspecting the handle. "This isn't something from this world. It feels familiar though, but I can't place it."

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