Phantom Rider: The Aftermath | Book 1

He's dead!

Do you know what is the worst pain a human can experience and yet survive?

Bill's skinny hands trembled as he lit a cigarette. Smoke filled the air, his face pale, black hair pulled back with a hair tie. This man, who once exuded confidence stepping out of his sports car, draped in leather, black makeup, and silver chains, was now unrecognizable. He was a shadow of his former self, slouching in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, smoking cigarette after cigarette. The city lights and glory days were long gone. His eyes were empty.

Almost a year had passed since the tragic events and that news report:

"Taylor Vatore, involved with Tom Ka--itz and his gang, found dead on December 6th, 2010. Following the news, Tom, the infamous gang leader, committed mass murder and suicide. The autopsy revealed Taylor was carrying Tom's child."

Bill woked up every morning, soaked in sweat. The nightmares never stopped. Neither did the cocaine. Since Tom's death, everyone knew their names. Nowhere was safe. Fans and enemies hunted them like amusement park clowns. Girls idolized them, creating a sick trend of who will be first to get pregnant by the gang members. Enemies sensing their weakness, plotted attacks. Even in hidden, windowless buildings, they were found. The police? They enjoyed the circus, refusing to intervene. Those lazy shits didn't want to fight them or protect them. Sometimes, Bill wished someone would put a bullet through him, but he couldn't do it himself after Tom had done exactly that.

Bill's destruction was methodical: drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, reckless stunts.He pushed himself to exhaustion daily to avoid the nightmares that haunted him in his sleep. Finally tired of chaos, Georg proposed a desperate solution: "We must flee the country".

After months of running, they took Georg's advice. They needed to regroup. Bill needed to mourn his brother. They moved to a countryside house by a lake in Germany, far from Tokyo's ghosts.

Bill sat by the lake as time have passed, staring at the rippling water, lost in thought. The autumn night was quiet, but his mind was anything but. He lit another cigarette, the flickering flame gave a small comfort in the dark. The bond he had with Tom was unlike any other. It wasn't just brotherhood; it was a connection that went beyond the understanding of others.

Bill remembered their childhood, how they could always sense each other's emotions, feel each other's pain. If one of them fell ill, the other would experience the same symptoms. It was as if their souls were intertwined, each one an extension of the other. They didn't need words to communicate; a look, a gesture, was enough. This bond had been their strength, but now it felt like a curse.

Since Tom's death, Bill felt a constant emptiness, a void that nothing could fill. It wasn't just grief; it was like a part of his own soul had been ripped away. He couldn't accept Tom was gone. He acted as if Tom would walk through the door any minute, and in the quiet moments, he could almost hear Tom's voice.

Bill often found himself talking to Tom as if he were still there. "You'd know what to do, wouldn't you?" he whispered into the night. "You always did." The night seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for an answer that would never come.

Sudden sound broke Bill's melancholy. He turned to see Gustav approaching. Gustav had been with them through thick and thin, another brother in their chosen family. His presence was solid, grounding, but it couldn't fill the gap Tom had left.

"You're out here again," Gustav said, sitting down beside Bill.

Bill shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Can't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

Bill nodded. "Every night. It's like he's trying to tell me something."

Gustav looked at him carefully. "Bill, you have to accept that Tom's gone. This isn't healthy."

"I can't," Bill snapped. "I just... I can't. It's like if I accept it, he's really gone. And I can't let that happen."

Gustav sighed, but didn't push further. He knew how deep the bond between the twins ran. Twins often shared an almost telepathic connection, a phenomenon that fascinated scientists and mystics. For Bill and Tom, it was even more intense, almost exotheric, like they were two halves of a single entity.

"Do you think...," Bill began hesitantly, "do you think it's possible to talk to someone who's... gone?"

Gustav looked at him, eyes softening. "I don't know, Bill. But if anyone could find a way, it'd be you and Tom. Your bond was something else."

Bill nodded, staring into the darkness. "I'm going to find a way, Gustav. I have to."

Gustav put a hand on his shoulder. "Just be careful. Don't lose yourself in this."

Bill smiled faintly. "Too late for that."

The house by the lake was quiet, the only sound being the occasional breeze of wind. Gustav went inside and sat next to Georg in the dimly lit living room. Georg poured two glasses of whiskey, sliding one over to Gustav.

"He's losing it, Georg," Gustav said, staring into his glass. "He's convinced Tom's still alive."

Georg nodded, taking a sip. "I know. He talks about Tom like he's just gone on a trip and will be back any day now."

Gustav leaned back, rubbing his temples. "It's more than just grief. He's seeing signs everywhere. Shadows, whispers... he's jumping at every little thing."

"I've noticed," Georg replied. "It's like he's looking for any excuse to believe Tom's still out there. I caught him talking to Tom's photo last night."

Gustav sighed. "We need to do something, Georg. He can't keep living like this. It's tearing him apart."

Georg looked thoughtful. "I've been thinking the same. But what can we do? We can't force him to accept Tom's death. It has to come from him."

"Maybe we need to get him professional help," Gustav suggested. "A therapist, someone who can help him process this."

Georg shook his head. "He won't go for it. He's too deep in his denial. We need to find a way to reach him, to make him see that Tom's gone without breaking him completely."

Gustav nodded. "He's not just grieving. He's slipping into paranoia. If we don't do something, we're going to lose him too."

Georg took a deep breath. "We need to be there for him, more than ever. We need to show him that he still has family, that he's not alone. And maybe, just maybe, we can help him find a way to live without Tom."

Gustav looked at Georg with hope in his eyes. "You think that's enough?"

"It has to be," Georg said firmly. "We can't give up on him. Not now. Not ever."

Gustav raised his glass. "To Bill. May he find peace."

Georg clinked his glass against Gustav's. "To Bill."

Bill stood outside the door, having overheard their conversation. As he turned away, a new idea lit his eyes. He would prove them wrong. Tom was alive, and he would find him, no matter the cost.