Chapter Twenty-Six: The Healing
Writer's POV - Age 20
Evan found the spiritualist through David Chen, his father's old CFO.
"Are you sure about this?" David asked over the phone. "These people... they deal with things most people don't believe in."
"I'm sure," Evan said. "I need to be normal. For her."
For Fabiola, who deserved someone whole. Someone who didn't see shadows or hear whispers. Someone who could love her without the darkness bleeding through.
The spiritualist was a woman named Esther Kimani, who worked out of a small shop two towns over. She was in her sixties, with kind eyes and steady hands.
"Tell me what you see," she said after Evan explained.
"My brother. Lucas. He died seven years ago, but he's still here. I see him in mirrors. Hear his voice at night. Feel him..." Evan touched his chest. "Inside me. Like he never left."
Esther nodded slowly. "And you want him gone."
"Yes."
"Even though he's your twin? Your other half?"
"Especially because of that." Evan's voice was raw. "He's consuming me. Making me dark. Making me.." He stopped. "I want to be normal. I want to be the kind of man my girlfriend deserves."
"This kind of healing is not easy," Esther warned. "A bond like yours made with blood, sealed with death it fights back. And if your brother's spirit is as attached as you say, removing him will be... painful. For both of you."
"I don't care about the pain."
"You should. Because if we do this, you're not just removing a presence. You're severing a part of yourself. The darkness will go but so might other things. Your intensity. Your depth. The parts of you that feel things deeply."
"I'll take that trade."
Esther studied him for a long moment. "Very well. But I must warn you when you remove something that's been feeding on you for this long, there will be consequences. The spirit won't go quietly."
"I understand."
The ritual took three sessions over two weeks.
Candles and herbs. Words in languages Evan didn't recognize. Esther's hands on his head, his chest, pulling at something invisible.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
Like being torn in half. Like every cell in his body was screaming in protest.
And through it all, Evan heard Lucas.
Don't do this. Don't leave me. We're supposed to be together.
"You're already gone," Evan gasped. "I'm just letting you go."
You're killing me again.
"You're already dead!"
The final session was the worst.
Evan convulsed on Esther's floor, screaming, as something ripped out of him. Something cold and furious and desperate.
Lucas's voice, no longer just in his head, filled the room.
"I HATE YOU! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING AND YOU CHOSE HER! YOU CHOSE TO LIVE WITHOUT ME!"
"I'm sorry," Evan sobbed. "I'm so sorry, but I can't carry you anymore. I can't..."
"THEN DIE WITH ME!"
The room went ice cold. Candles blew out.
Esther's voice rose, strong and commanding, words of banishment and release.
And then
Silence.
The cold vanished.
The pressure in Evan's chest the weight he'd carried for seven years lifted.
Gone.
He could breathe.
Three Months Later
Fabiola noticed the change immediately.
"You're different," she said one morning, watching him make breakfast. Actually make breakfast, humming along to the radio, smiling at nothing.
"Good different?" Evan asked, kissing her forehead.
"I... yes. Good different." But her voice was uncertain.
Because Evan was different.
He laughed more. Slept better. Didn't wake up screaming from nightmares. Didn't see shadows or hear whispers.
He was normal.
Happy, even.
He got a job at his father's company Harlow Industries working his way up from the ground floor instead of inheriting the throne. Made friends with his coworkers. Joined a gym. Went to therapy.
He became the kind of man she'd always said he could be.
And Fabiola should have been thrilled.
Should have been grateful that the darkness had lifted, that Evan was finally whole.
But something felt... wrong.
He still loved her. Still touched her constantly, still scented her (though less desperately now, more casually).
But the intensity was gone.
The way he used to look at her like she was oxygen now he looked at her like she was wonderful but not essential.
The way he used to need her with every fiber of his being now he just... loved her. Normally. Healthily.
And it should have been enough.
It should have been enough.
But Fabiola found herself missing the obsession.
Missing being needed instead of just wanted.
Missing the boy who couldn't breathe without her instead of the man who breathed just fine.
She hated herself for it.
But she couldn't help feeling like she'd lost something when Evan found himself.
- The Other Side
Lucas watched from the veil between worlds, furious.
Evan had cast him out. Had chosen that girl over their bond. Had decided to live really live without him.
And worse, he was happy.
Dating Fabiola openly. Smiling. Making plans for a future that didn't include his dead twin.
Lucas had lost everything when he drowned his life, his future, his existence.
And now Evan had taken the one thing Lucas had left: their connection.
The pact was broken. The bond severed.
But Lucas wasn't gone. Not completely.
He was weaker, yes. Couldn't manifest as easily. Couldn't touch the physical world like before.
But he could still watch.
Still feel.
And what he felt was rage.
Rage at Evan for abandoning him.
Rage at Fabiola for stealing his brother.
Rage at the unfairness of death while they got to live and love and be whole.
You think you're free, Lucas thought, watching Evan kiss Fabiola goodbye before work. You think you've won.
But I'm still here.
And I'm so fucking angry.
And one day one day soonI'm going to take back what's mine.
Starting with her.
The girl who smelled like summer.
The girl who'd stolen his brother.
The girl who would pay for Evan's choice.
Lucas grieved in the darkness.
Soon, he promised.
Very soon.
Because the dead didn't forgive.
And Lucas had eternity to plan his revenge.