I leave everyone else suspended, watching the reality around us as I shift Atticus’s point of view.
In his mind, he’s across the room, snatching his baby brother up by the throat and dangling him there. The demon itself is glaring, vicious, and evil, but behind it? I can see the subtle downturn of its lips, the way its eyes become glassy.
And that? That’s all Atticus.
I move each person in the room around like a game of chess, watching as Julian rushes in, only to be tossed aside. Abraham moves, only to get his heart ripped out.
In my mind’s eye, there is so much blood and carnage that I kind of want to vomit. I know it’s not real, all a figment of my own imagination, but that doesn’t make it easier to bear.
Atticus willdefinitelyhave some trauma after this if the plan works.
Fog curls around our feet, an indication that my power is activated and still running. But Atticus doesn’t know this—he’s still unable to reconcile actual reality and the vision I’m giving him.
As Atlas falls to the ground, dead, the demon turns back to the boy by the podium. “Say it.Now.”
“You’ll have to kill me,” the boy whispers. “I won’t do it. Kill me.”
If the way the boy was looking at him earlier is any indication, or the way Atticus is now fighting even harder against the demon controlling him, they must be involved.
I can use that.
The demon approaches the podium, its fingers gripping the boy’s chin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes sliding closed so that he can avoid looking at the demon. “I love you; I will die loving you.”
Oh, that works well. Atticus twitches, the demon inside of him rebelling angrily. I can see how he sweats, how his body locks up, and how his eyes focus and then unfocus.
“It’s alright; I know you don’t want to do it. I know you’re in there, suffering.” The boy’s hand slides up to cup the demon’s cheek, staring right into its eyes.
Almost there. Just… a bit more.
“I forgive you for whatever you’ll do to me. And if things were different, if we could have had more time, I would have loved you forever,” he continues.
But this demon is stronger than I anticipated, as it stands there, staring back at him. He’s struggling so badly inside; I can see it. Atticus is raging against this monster holding him hostage.
I needsomething. The words that will push him over the edge and make him stronger than thatthing.
I focus on the boy where he’s standing outside of my illusion, stock still as he watches the reality where Atticus is still standing next to him, unmoving. He’s trembling, watching with wide, big eyes as he tries to understand what’s happening around him.
Then, I make a decision. Purely based on what I’ve perceived of him and hoping I’m not totally off the mark, I focus back on what Atticus is seeing, and make the boy say—
“I surrender, Atticus. You have all of me; do what you need to.”
I know how obsessed with control Atticus is. If he likes this boy, it’s because he lets him do just that: control, guide, dictate. He’dwantthe boy’s surrender. He’d crave it.
And I’m right. Atticus surges forward, taking the boy’s lips in a bruising kiss as his fingers wrap around the boy’s throat.
I can see Atticus’s body shaking, his eyes wide and glassy as he trembles.
“Wake up, Atticus,” I push, wishing so badly that Landon were here to coerce him. “Save him.”
Right as I’m beginning to think that my illusion won’t work after all, Atticus pulls back, stumbling away from the boy’scollapsing body until he’s on his knees near me in the center of the room.
And he looks like himself again, if not a bit fucked up and tired.
I approach where he sits, looming over him as I say, “Good boy. You’ve done well.”
But the praise doesn’t calm him, and he turns and vomits all over the floor before passing out.
