God's Gone AWOL

[9] The Unwanted Memories

In the early hours of the Parisian morning, Atticus stood on the spires of the Notre Dame Cathedral. Down below, a great sea of glittering lights stretched ever onwards, past the edge of the glowing horizon. Occasional bursts of noise echoed upwards into the darkened sky: a siren, a car alarm, a particularly loud bird. Other than that, a general charm of sleepiness hovered over the city like a blanket, muffling everything beneath it. Despite being a bustling city in the daytime, this particular place felt strangely lonely.

Atticus' eyes rested on the sprawling city, unable to focus on anything at all. It was just a blur of colours and lights to him, without any connection or meaning in the back of his mind. Nothing in that moment seemed real. It was as if he was watching himself through a long tunnel. He couldn't feel the wind on his face nor the metal beneath his feet. It was all just so distant, numb, and uncomfortable all at the same time.

He had been feeling this way ever since they had escaped from Heaven. After that mind-numbing sensation of having a spell carved into his eyeballs, the strange dissociation and vertigo continued to come and go like the tide. Right then, as he stood atop the spire of the great cathedral, he was struggling against the worst wave he had experienced since the the time he was trapped in Heaven's interrogation room. The ghost of that horrific pain, mixed with the echoes of a thousand terrible thoughts suddenly returned, washing over him, pulling him down until he was drowning in those unspeakable feelings.

"So what happens if you're dead?"

Exactly. Those words of Lucifer were now louder than ever, echoing throughout Atticus' mind as though they were the only sound left in this world above the world. What if he was dead?

But he couldn't die. Not yet. Not any time soon. There was still so much work to do. There were so many things that had happened —from Ophaniel's apology to Bentley's sweet embrace. All of these wonderful things were suddenly occurring all at once, how dare he consider death to be a reasonable solution. Camael stole his autonomy, but that didn't mean that he shouldn't keep fighting.

For the first time in Atticus' life, he was just starting to understand what it meant to be happy. He had friends. He had Bentley. He even had Ophaniel. For thousands of years, Atticus had a whole list of things he would be willing to die for. Now he finally understood what it was like to have a reason to live.

How ironic. But that was how sacrifices were made. What was the point in death if life wasn't worth living?

After what felt like a thousand years of contemplation, Atticus decided he needed to clear his mind. So with the flick of his wrist, he conjured up a violin. Then he raised it to his shoulder, closed his eyes tightly, and started drawing the bow across the strings.

The song he played was lonesome, but strong. It rang out over the tops of the sleeping buildings, filling the morning air with a sweet reveille. Behind him, a flock of previously-sleeping pigeons took off, startled by the sudden sound. Frantic coos and fluttering wings beat against the heavy wind, but Atticus remained unbothered. As his bow moved back and forth in its steady rhythm, the chaotic ocean of thought gradually calmed itself down until it was nothing more than a silent sea. After that, everything was peaceful.

Atticus finished the song and lowered the instrument back down, holding himself in a calm and collected manner. He could now feel the light brush of the cool air against his skin, and taste the sweet, fresh air on his lips. The storm had passed. The waves were gone. Atticus had once again returned to reality.

After another couple moments in silence, the sudden whiff of cinnamon rushed by with a passing breeze. Atticus couldn't tell whether or not the heated scent was merely a figment of his imagination. He was desperate for the source, so he knew that it may very well have been his own mind playing tricks in it's current state of weakness. For fear of this, he refused to open his eyes.