Chapter Two
Coren: Age Sixteen
Coren: Age Sixteen
I was a horrible child. Father hated me and mother was afraid of me. The Enemy controlled everything I did. I was a demon. I broke things, threatened my mother with knives, bit other children so hard they needed stitches, and more. I was awful.
The worst things happened to people with names that began with C. The Enemy hates the letter C. The Enemy hates me, maybe for that reason, but it can use me, so it keeps me alive. I can end it forever. I know I can. But that means ending me. Forever. The best thing for me to do would be to end it. End me. I have the strength to do it somewhere in me. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not.
As I stand in the middle of this rain-slicked road, I think of Claralynn. If I don’t die tonight, she will. I’ve only ever caused her pain. Never, have I done anything good for that angelic girl. She’s the perfect target. The Enemy hates C names and good people. More than that though, the Enemy hates anyone who means something to me, anyone who really shouldn’t die, so those are the people the Enemy makes me kill. Those are the people who die by my hands. There is so much blood on my hands. They are stained forever more.
There is power in names. Maybe if I order myself using our full, entire names, that order will be set in indestructible stone.
I cannot kill Claralynn. Coren Henry Dart will not kill Claralynn Octavia Renoir.
At least I can hope. Ah hope! What a silly notion! When have I last dared to think of that disappointing word? Hope died the day the Enemy came. I guess there really never was hope. Humans, no, creatures like me don’t deserve hope, therefore, it is fitting that I don’t have it.
There is one thing I am absolutely sure of. If Claralynn dies, I will end it forever. In other words: if I kill Claralynn, I will kill myself and the Enemy with me.
The Enemy is silent. I am drenched to the bone. I cannot bring myself to move, I don’t know what will happen if I do. I’m scared, more scared than I have ever been.
Clara, Clara, Claralynn! Clara, Clara, Claralynn! Thick red water! Syrup! Syrup! Bright red syrup! Shiny blades, bloody hearts! Clara, Clara, Claralynn! Clara, Clara, Claralynn!
The Enemy sings it’s predatory song. This is just another horrifying sign that I will lose Claralynn very soon. The Enemy favors creepy tunes with disturbing lyrics. This is the song it always sings before it forces me to kill someone, of course instead of Claralynn the name of the person I’m about to kill is in the song instead. This time the song was worse. Claralynn’s name fit far too well inside the sickening melody.
“No, no! Please no!” I scream. The porch light of a house down the street ignites, illuminating the helpless raindrops being thrown about by the savage wind.
Cor, Cor, Cor. You have made your choice, forcing me to make a choice of my own. Don’t act so surprised, Claralynn’s death was bound to happen one day. She’s the last one Cor, the very last person you’ve ever cared about. How sweet. Now, be a good little boy and say goodbye before she goes.
The Enemy is tempting me. How easily I could climb to Claralynn’s window and enter her room? How easily I could talk to her and be with her? How easily I could plunge a knife into her innocent heart? No, I will not see Claralynn. I must distance myself from her.
Coooreeen. Coooreeen. Listen to me, Cor. I’m your friend. Have I ever let you down? I am the only reason your alive. Do as I ask, Cor, and Claralynn’s death may be less painful than it needs to be.
So there you have it. The Enemy will not relinquish its threats. I know the Enemy well enough to realize that its threats are far from idle.
I knew this day would come. It was always coming, this day. It always hung over my head, like a brooding thundercloud waiting to let loose the rage inside it. The Enemy is striking its final blow. Claralynn is the only one I have left.
Coooreeen. Coooreeen.
The Enemy sings my name with a horrible command hidden beneath it. I cannot, will not, do it. Not this time. I refused to kill the Cedar family, I can refuse to kill Claralynn too. I have a choice. Don’t I? I think of all the years of murder and torture I was a part of. I never thought I had a choice until tonight. What is so different about tonight? What has magically changed? Does it really matter anyway? The Enemy will find a way to kill Claralynn no matter what. There is nothing I can do about it.
If I kill Claralynn there will be no point in living. I’ll die with her. She won’t die in vain. Or will she? I can end it now. I could always end it. But... but what?
I can’t! I can’t kill myself!
I can! I will kill myself.
Claralynn. That is the only person I need to think of. All the meaningless murders I’d committed. All the horrible things I have done for no reason at all. How could I let Claralynn be thrown into my cauldron of pointless and meaningless violence? I can’t. Claralynn is different. She doesn’t belong in the closet with my other skeletons. No. She cannot be my last murder. She cannot die by my hands.
Coooreeen, you know what’s going to happen. You will obey me, just like you always do. Silly boy, you never change. Claralynn abandoned you when that tragedy occurred. But I still stood by you! I, Coren, and only I! She threw you away! I kept you together!
All my senses sharpen. I don’t speak of the tragedy. The Enemy doesn’t speak of the tragedy. The Enemy has just reached a new low. As for me, I have now hit rock bottom. Every day I think of the tragedy. Every day. But the horror of it hasn’t hit me like its hitting me now in a very long time. I feel my knees give out under my body. I fall to the asphalt on hands and knees. It was as if I’d been punched in the gut. I don’t even try to fight off the overwhelming guilt. I let the agony of it wash over me like the rain that’s pouring down. I deserve this. I deserve to feel this way.
Claralynn is the only person, besides me, who knows about the tragedy. It has been six years since I’ve talked to her. All I remember clearly about the night of the tragedy is the look in Claralynn’s eyes when I told her what I’d done.
Terror. It was terror in her eyes that night. She was terrified of me.
