It was Halloween, the most fantastical night of the year when the veil between the living and the dead was said to thin. For me, this Halloween held a special significance: it was my first with the Outlaws, a ragtag group of misfits who found solace in each other amidst their chaotic lives. The atmosphere in our shared house buzzed with an electric excitement, as Kory darted around, her energy contagious. Roy lounged in the living room, barely concerned with the festivities, while Jason—my boyfriend—was inexplicably absent.
"Roy, you seen Jason anywhere?" I asked, trying to suppress the worry forming in my chest.
"I haven't seen your boyfriend," Roy replied without lifting his gaze from the television. His nonchalance irked me. Halloween was Jason's favorite night; he thrived on the spirit of the season, spinning tales of the supernatural that sent shivers down my spine. I needed him here, not lost in his thoughts.
With a sigh, I headed towards Jason's room. As I moved through the dimly lit hallway, the flickering of orange and purple lights from pumpkined windows cast eerie shadows that danced along the walls. The thrilling edge of Halloween that usually excited me now felt distorted, almost foreboding as I knocked softly on his door.
The moment I pushed the door open, I was struck by the heavy silence. The curtains were drawn tight, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to creep into the room. Jason sat alone, his back turned to me, wrapped in darkness. A shiver ran down my spine, but I steeled myself as I walked closer.
"Hey," I said softly, sliding onto the bed beside him. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist, hoping to shield him from whatever demons haunted him. He leaned back against me, and I felt the tension in his body slowly begin to ebb away.
"Why are you hiding in the dark?" I murmured, burying my face into the soft fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his familiar scent.
"Just memories," Jason whispered, his voice barely rising above the silence, hanging between us like the faint scent of smoke wafting from a nearby bonfire.
"Memories?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued, but also filled with concern.
"The Lazarus Pit..." he trailed off, his voice a whisper as if he feared saying it would conjure something malevolent.
I had heard snippets of the Lazarus Pit from the others—a legend wrapped in tragedy and loss. My grip tightened around him, urging him to continue. "What about it?" I coaxed gently.
Jason's breathing deepened as he began to share. "It's what brought me back... to life, I mean. I died, but the Pit... it pulls you back in ways that haunt you. They say every time you return, a piece of you is severed, something left behind."
"Oh love..." I breathed, stroking his arm in a comforting rhythm.
Jason's shoulders lifted in a sigh. "I don't know how much of me is left," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "Every year, on Halloween, it feels like the veil thins between here and... there."
My heart ached for him, and I leaned closer, my cheek pressing against the warmth of his shoulder blade. "You're still here, with us," I whispered, trying to convince him, and perhaps myself, that it was enough. I lean over kissing his shoulder softly. "You're not lost."
"I know," he murmured, turning to face me. The moon's glow cast Jason's features in stark relief, highlighting the pain etched in his eyes. "But it's like part of me is stuck, like I can almost feel the coldness of the pit calling."
I searched his gaze, feeling his words resonate deep within me. "What do you mean, calling?"
Jason turned away, his eyes focusing on the shadows dancing across the wall. "It's just... a feeling." His voice was distant, as if he were lost in a memory that was more vivid than the reality we shared. "It's like the Pit wants me back."
