Shadows of Helvete

Chapter 5

Euronymous awoke with a groan, the pounding in his head a sharp reminder of the night before. He blinked against the harsh morning light streaming through the windows, groggily raising a hand to rub his eyes. His fingers grazed over his face, and he felt the stiff remnants of last night's corpse paint—smudged and cracked from sleep.

He was still on the couch, the place he had crashed after the chaotic party, and his body ached from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in. As he shifted, trying to stretch the soreness from his limbs, something caught his eye. Dead was standing next to him, just a few feet away.

At first, Euronymous thought Dead was just staring into space, but there was something off about the way he stood, his body unnaturally rigid, his eyes unfocused. It looked like he was sleepwalking—his usual morbid calmness now replaced with a blank emptiness.

"What are you doing?" Euronymous mumbled, his voice hoarse from last night's drinking.

Dead didn't respond. He didn't even flinch. It was as though he didn't hear Euronymous at all. Instead, he turned slowly, his movements mechanical, and walked toward the front door. Euronymous sat up, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Euronymous dragged himself off the couch, still dazed from the remnants of sleep. He rubbed his eyes again, lit a cigarette and walked to the window, curious and a little concerned.

Dead was already walking toward the forest, his feet moving soundlessly over the damp grass. Euronymous smoke his cigarette, squinting against the light, and watched in disbelief as Dead began stripping off his clothes—first his shirt, then his pants and underpants. He held his clothes in his arms, his pale and skinny body stark against the green of the forest.

"What the hell?" Euronymous muttered to himself, taking a drag from his cigarette. He stood there, dumbfounded, watching as Dead disappeared into the trees, walking deeper into the woods, completely naked.

The sound of footsteps behind him made Euronymous turn. Emilie appeared, her long hair tousled from sleep, her face still soft with the vulnerability of morning and covered with make-up from last night. She held two mugs of coffee, steam rising from the cups in the crisp air.

"Morning," she said, her voice quiet, but when she saw Euronymous' expression and the open door, her brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

Euronymous gestured toward the forest with his cigarette. "Dead. He's... walking around naked in the woods."

Emilie's eyes widened in shock. "What?!" She rushed to the window, setting the coffee cups down on the livingroom table. When she saw Dead's bare figure moving deeper into the trees, her heart sank. "Oh my God..."

Before Euronymous could say anything more, Emilie was already running outside, her feet barely making a sound on the damp ground as she sprinted toward the forest. Euronymous watched her go, still processing what he'd just seen, but he made no move to follow. Instead, he took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the cold air as he leaned against the window. This wasn't the first time Dead had done something strange, but this was different.

In the distance, he could see Emilie reach Dead. She was talking to him, but from inside Euronymous couldn't hear their words. All he could see was Emilie's frantic gestures and Dead's blank, unresponsive stare. After a few moments, she managed to coax him back toward the house, wrapping his discarded shirt around his shoulders like a blanket.

They walked slowly, Emilie guiding him with gentle hands, and when they reached the house, she helped Dead inside without a word. Euronymous watched as Emilie led Dead upstairs, her face tight with worry.

When she came back down, her steps heavy with exhaustion, she found Euronymous in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, cigarette still hanging from his lips. He handed her the cup of coffee she'd brought out earlier, the steam now gone.

"How is he?" Euronymous asked, his voice softer than usual.

"He's asleep," Emilie said quietly, taking a sip of the now-lukewarm coffee. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she set the mug down on the counter before looking up at him, her eyes filled with worry. "I don't know what's happening to him. It's like... he's getting worse."

Euronymous took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes distant. "He's been like this for a while. Ever since we started Mayhem, really. But it's getting more intense now."

"Has he ever done something like this before?" Emilie asked, her voice trembling.

"Not this bad," Euronymous admitted. "He's always had... dark thoughts. But this? Stripping down and wandering into the woods? No. That's new."

Emilie wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the kitchen. "I'm scared for him. What if he—"

"He's not going to off himself," Euronymous interrupted, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of Dead's mental state hanging heavy between them. The ticking of a clock on the wall was the only sound in the room, a rhythmic reminder of the time slipping by.

Euronymous finally broke the silence. "What about you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "What's your story? You never talk about yourself."

Emilie looked up at him, surprised by the question. Euronymous wasn't usually one for personal conversations, but something in his tone made her think he genuinely wanted to know. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"I grew up with my mom and my stepdad," she began, her voice soft. "He... wasn't a good man. Abusive. Controlling. You know, the typical nightmare."

Euronymous nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette as he listened. He didn't press her for more, letting her continue at her own pace.

"I ran away because I couldn't take it anymore. My mom choose me over him everytime, no matter what he said or did to me or her. I couldn't breathe in that house. Pelle was the only one who ever understood me... He was my escape. I guess that's why I followed him here."

Euronymous flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray, his expression unreadable. "And now?"

"Now?" Emilie repeated, her gaze distant. "Now, I don't know. I love him, I really do. But watching him like this... it's breaking me. I don't know how to help him."

He nodded, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I get that. He's... different. But he's lucky to have someone like you."

Emilie offered a sad smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "What about you? You never talk about your family."

Euronymous shrugged, taking one last drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "My family's fine. Pretty normal, actually. I've got a little sister. She's ten. We're close, I guess. But they don't get this. The band, the scene... they don't understand it."

"Do they know about everything that goes on here?" Emilie asked, genuinely curious.

"They know some things," Euronymous said with a smirk. "But not all. A very little procent of things, actually. I don't think they'd handle it well if they knew about the... darker stuff."

Emilie nodded, feeling a strange connection to him in that moment. Despite their differences, they both had pieces of their lives they kept hidden, pieces they weren't sure anyone would ever understand.