The man with the midnight air and ocean blessed eyes stood in front of the rusted iron gates, gazing upon the wreckage from a distance. He was tired and it showed from the shadows on his face. However, the veil of grey over his mien was nothing compared to the looming spirit of the mansion. Unspeakable evil had been unleashed in it- unspeakable evil that took his brother’s soul but not his life- leaving his husk to stride wantonly on a path marked with violence and winding into dark corners of self-destruction.

Isaiah had secured a seat on the next flight out of Detroit to Bayport an hour after meeting up with David Lagner. Upon reaching his birthplace, he rented a car and drove carefully along the slippery roads to the place where he once called home- a home made up of the stuff of nightmares. Winter was thawing and soon, he would see the winking green leaves gracing the branches of bald trees with the dappled sunlight dancing off their smooth side. Spring would bring new life and hope.

He remembered how Daniel tried to play psychological games on the both of them before- by treating him a little nicer than he treated Elijah. Saiah had more candies, more ice-cream and less whippings. However, instead of jealousy, Daniel’s plan only taught Isaiah to be self-sacrificing because in the end, it was Elijah who ended up eating more candies because when Isaiah could take any, he would give it all to Elijah who had a sweet-tooth that tormented him everyday.

And it caused Elijah to hero-worship his brother- to look to Isaiah for strength and support- not to mention, candies. Elijah, being of a young age, could see the perverted favoritism with stark naked eyes but if it affected him, it did not show because in actual fact, Isaiah was not much better off than him.

Unafraid of the crumbling structure, he pushed opened the iron gates which groaned as it moved and walked up the cobbled pathway leading to the wreckage. Emerald eyes concentrated on a time and space already passed- a time and space where the screams were muffled and blood spilled most cheaply onto the parquet floor.

He blew warm air into his hands and rubbed them together. The temperature was still pretty frigid and he was wishing for spring to come by soon. Finding himself drifting with the mist he created just by breathing, he allowed control to slip. Sporadic images flashed in his mind and distracted him intermittently from reality.

Isaiah knelt down and picked up a piece of charred wood which have been flung onto the snow when the fire was blazing. It was no bigger than the size of his palm and he gripped it hard, unmindful of its splintering edges because he had his gloves on. Splinters- Elijah was prone to getting them stuck into his skin and he would bravely hide the affected area until Isaiah notice his awkwardness and made him sit still while he pulled it out with a pair of tweezers.

He smiled at the recollection. Isaiah had always been careful. While Daniel whipped or beat up Elijah, Elijah would strove hard not to even whimper in pain. However, when Isaiah performed delicate operation on him like, pulling out a splinter or applying antiseptic to his wounds, Elijah tears would flow freely and he would want to be pampered and given candies. In a way, even at a tender age, Isaiah had taken on the role as a father when he had none himself.

Childhood was a distant dream. Growing up so quickly, Isaiah felt ancient by the time he hit mid-teens. When Elijah had left abruptly right after the first and only case he handled with him, Isaiah grew so dead that he could have turned into a fossil on the couch. Even Lynn’s berating, ranting, pleading, cajoling, seducing and normal conversations could hardly bring him out of that depression which broke with the arrival of a fervent hope when the phone call came for him, informing him that Elijah was in hospital.

Soon, those flitting images that brought him back to his past became more impatient and overwhelming. He staggered up, turning around as a cyclone of voices whirled around his head. Sounds, vocalized memories left behind, still jealously protected by the mansion, drifted past his ears. Daniel’s gruff voice whispered threats meant not for him into his ears. There was no way he could shut the images out- they flitted across his mind’s eyes which could not be closed. But unlike those visions in which he would lose himself momentary, Isaiah was conscious of the fact that he was intruding into his brother’s guarded history.

Isaiah knew about the abuses that Elijah had to suffer through- abuses that turned Elijah into a freak show for people to be fascinated with at first and then condemned. However, the images still stunned him and caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. When it did not work, Isaiah crumbled to the icy ground and shook his head to clear his mind.

Isaiah’s eyes flew open. Memories that were not his subsided and left him empty and shell-shocked. Slowly, the past detangled itself with the present and left Isaiah alone. When he was of a clearer mind, he stood up and massaged his temples which were pounding. Past- even if he could reach little Lijah in those visions and comfort him, it was no use. Little Lijah would never know- the deeds were already done and carved onto the tombstones of time.

He left the piece of wood on the ground and walked away, stopping by the fountain with the shattered cherub still endeavoring to keep watch over it. He stroked its side and remembered those hot summer days where they would play, splashing crystal clear water on each other and then, taking long, well-deserved drinks from the spewing mouth.

He remembered what the cherub saw with only one, tarnished eye. Gripping its half-broken head, Isaiah gazed upon the mansion together with the cherub and saw the happenings of that day.

A young man splashed kerosene all over the interior of the mansion- the rotting curtains, the covered up furniture- everything. There after, he stood at the entrance and lit a piece of bunched up rope. When it was burning healthily, he flung it far away from him and watched it hit a couch in the waiting area of the mansion. The couch caught fire and blazed- the fire spread quickly, hurriedly as it was a famished demon- made to suffer the pangs for hunger for thousands of years until it was unleashed at that split second by a tormented soul.

Then Isaiah sensed immense confusion and then, all was blank.

The answer came as sure as the sun would follow the moon. He could feel Elijah’s pain which lingered on even after the wreck had long turned as cold as the wintry air covering it- a pain that exploded unbearably at that moment when he set the very symbol of his sordid past to flames. Nightmares combusted but so did dreams and the days of innocence- treasured moments of his life; treasured moments of time spent with his brother.

The biggest irony dawned upon Isaiah. His lips curled up mockingly- bitterly even. He had always thought that the loss of memory had brought Elijah back to him but if he was to truly think about it, it actually took Elijah away and replaced him with a stranger. For shouldn’t he love his brother just the way he was? He had, in a way, condemned Elijah as well for he wanted Elijah to vanish forever- he was doing all he could so Elijah could never return.

Lynn was right, truly. Elijah was Lijah and Lijah was Elijah. The man had become what he was by his own choice but his past had heavily dictated his decisions- sometimes, he probably could not help himself as well. The past was shared by Isaiah too- a past that made them brothers.

Though Elijah was now what he could have become had Daniel not killed his spirit, he was nonetheless, the real stranger for he had no shared memories with Isaiah- no shared experiences. However, he was happy- happier than he ever could be. The loss of his past unlocked the chains wrapped around his heart, strangulating him to a road wrought with countless mistakes.

With great resolve, Isaiah pulled himself away from the fountain and walked out of the estate. When he closed the gates, he shut it with a conviction- determination.

He had shut and locked up the terrible chapters of their lives- chapters they shared for Elijah was not living this story alone- penning his own words. Isaiah was bounded by the brotherly bond and love to help him reach an ending that would mean salvation.

"Do I have the endurance?" Isaiah asked himself softly. He wanted to look at the mansion again- with its blackened walls and charred grounds. He wanted so much to turn around and see something changed- to see Daniel as a father, not a monster.

Hatred melted with the snow under his feet. All he felt was a dull throb and remorse. Forgiveness for his father had already been done- in fact; it brought him great relief than the feeling of being shortchanged by life.

But forgiveness did not come with forgetfulness immediately. The memories still came with its jagged edges and they cut. Daniel Raily- his father. How he and Elijah had wished and wished for that description to fit.

For better or worse, he made up his mind.

***

From Elijah’s accounting in Falsehood’s Epilogue.