Shadow Things

VIII

Human beings in general were slow learners, especially when life was the one acting teacher, foisting harsh lessons upon its grudging disciples. They let themselves be burnt over and over again before they were willing to accept fire was not to be touched, and fall into pits uncountable times before they cared to watch their step. Sometimes months and years went by before they were enlightened about the simplest of life's truths. It took time for people to learn from their mistakes, to change, to grow, to become strong enough not to repeat the same mistake again. But sometimes this process was exponentially accelerated, as was the case with Hansel, who seemed to have gained a million new insights overnight.

It took only a single trigger—Haley's death—for Hansel to turn one-eighty degrees, to alter his opinions, his ways of thinking, to snuff out his entire personality and put a different version in its place. Or maybe it wasn't his personality that had changed, maybe he had only taken off the mask he wore for the sake of others, revealing his true self. Allowing himself to be the original him at last.

The week that came after Haley's death was a long, suffocating blur. Hansel stopped going to school. He holed himself up in his mansion, refusing to step out of his room to eat or wash up. His butler tried fruitlessly to coax him out, but Hansel growled at him to go away every time he heard his footsteps outside the door.

His phone kept beeping non-stop, messages coming from strangers and acquaintances alike, calling him a monster, a murderer, a low-born swine, cursing him and his family and his entire convoluted pedigree, telling him to do them all a favour and go kick the bucket already. Hansel skimmed through some of the texts, then opened his bedroom window and chucked his phone out, not waiting to hear the splash it made in the pool below before he pulled the window shut again.

Getting backstabbed by the people he considered to be friends hurt more than he thought it could. But hadn't he done something similar to Haley? A part of him was ashamed that he hated what was happening to him. But he knew that the backlash and criticism he was now receiving was well-deserved. He had earned it.

It still hurt though.

It should hurt.

What devil made him utter those false accusations against Haley that day?

He turned in his bed, bunching up his quilt in his tight fists.

I really am a monster, aren't I?

One week later Hansel dared to step out of the house, his clothes bedraggled and hair unkempt. But he didn't go to his school or show himself to anyone who knew him. He headed straight for Marsance Public Cemetery, walking the entire three miles, then laid wildflowers he had picked from the side of the road upon Haley's grave. He knelt down upon the freshly turned earth, the knowledge that she was really and truly gone numbing him, taking the strength from his legs.

I'm sorry, his mind said, but his lips did not have the courage to say the words out loud.

The sky above him was darkening with rainclouds, casting a gloom upon everything below. Hansel stayed on his knees, his head hanging, his stomach burning from thirst and hunger.

I'm sorry, he thought louder, more desperately. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"What are you doing here?" a ragged female voice demanded from behind.

Hansel turned his head.

A thin woman with lanky blonde hair and bloodshot eyes stood behind him. Hansel's heart sank when he recognised her—Haley's mother.

He climbed to his feet slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked a second time, white hot rage simmering beneath the tired lines of her face. Hansel noticed she had nasty grey bags under her eyes and her lips were chewed bloody.