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Sasha was gone .
Considering what Tim had learnt about his job this past year he had been working as Jonathan’s assistant, it shouldn’t have come to much of a surprise that casualties like deaths of coworkers aren’t completely off the table.
But this wasn’t just any death, this was Sasha . The nerdy, dorky Sasha who would light up Tim’s day with her beaming smile, spreading light to the otherwise stupid institute they were working at. She who always would have the smartest ideas, although Tim would never have admitted that to her face before. Now he wanted to. Now he wanted to tell her those unsaid words that had been floating in the air between them ever since they met.
He had wanted to tell her how beautiful she was; with her curly hair tied up that perfectly complimented her round glasses that would slowly and carefully glide down the bridge of her nose. The glasses that shielded those eyes who could make any man lose himself in the process of looking into them. Even if it wasn’t her, not really.
He had wanted to tell her how she made him feel; at first he assumed he’d taken ill when she first looked at him, warmth spreading through his body as if it was in the middle of the summer and he was wearing a thick jacket, but it was winter and the short sleeved button up had brought him goosebumps only a couple minutes ago. He recognised what it truly was a couple weeks after, when the two decided to go out for drinks at a bar. Fireworks would explode within Tim everytime their eyes met, almost making him puke from the intense mix of anxiety and envy.
He had wanted to tell her how he never regretted that night they spent together; how he would give the world to touch her like that again. To feel her warmth was like being touched by a goddess, a single grace bringing blessings to suffice a man for decades and in this case; the blessing was her.
Now all he could do was tell her grave how he missed her.
It felt like Sasha was someone Tim always had known, yet he didn’t know her, did he? Every memory he had of her had the wrong cheeky smile, the wrong warming face, the wrong heartfelt eyes. It wasn't images of her that were plaguing Tim’s memory, but rather a vicious monster who had killed her months before the institute figured it out.
The image of Rosie’s smile whilst she informed Tim of a meeting later that day with Elias made Tim fume in his office chair. The office’s clock hung over the door to Jon’s office, ticking loudly as minute after minute passed by. It was now half an hour before five. Half an hour before his shift would end. Half an hour before he’d have to go meet Elias.
The tapping of his fingers grew more and more aggressive as each minute ticked by and Martin occasionally threw him a worried look from his own desk. Jon was still missing and the office was awfully silent with exception of the constant ticking of the clock on the wall driving Tim nuts as the anticipation of Elias’ meeting filled his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
Elias’ greeting smile was the last thing Tim needed today but he still abided as Elias gestured to the chair sat opposite to his own. The soft cushion let Tim feel a little less uncomfortable while he was keeping eye contact with his creepy boss.
“You were close with Sasha, weren’t you?”
The question Elias had asked Tim was as if his boss had reached into Tim’s chest and squeezed his heart tightly. How was life ever supposed to be normal again without her? The sadness soon flickered into anger and the absence of fingers on his arms made Tim realise he had stopped picking on his worm scars, although he hadn’t realised he had done so earlier.
“Yeah, okay. If you brought me here to show pity or talk about what happened at the funeral, just lay off. I don’t want anything to do with you or this goddamn institute!” Tim spat out each word as if he'd accidentally been chewing on fish bones. He thought nothing of how he might be perceived — a lunatic, probably. But it didn’t matter. He needed these sharp bones out of him before they poke at his heart for the last time.
The sound of the chair falling and hitting the floor made an awful sound in Elias’ soundproof office as Tim stood up to leave. Elias didn’t even flinch, and his face remained as stern as it had been when he asked the question prior. His voice was calm and collected, almost as if Tim was still sitting quiet in his chair.
“Sit back down, Ti-”
“I swear if you say one more word I’ll slit your fucking throat. I don’t give a fuck who it kills, as long as it kills you,” the fire burning in Tim’s eyes made it seem like he was touched by the desolation itself. Those brown eyes contained nothing but pure destruction and pain. A lightless flame that was eager to consume everything and everyone around it until it was merely a pile of ash.
”Tim.” This made Tim freeze. Something about the way Elias spoke his name was enchanting. His mouth was shut, as if it was sewn together and Tim fought to say anything but it felt like his vocal chords had been ripped out of his throat. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Elias continued speaking, a piercing look on his face. ”If you listen to me, I believe I could help you out a little.”
”Fine,” his voice was dripping in sarcasm and his face was dead-pan. He did not believe a thing, but Elias was his boss after all, not that it mattered. He was stuck in there, he could not quit and Elias would not let him go, so disrespecting him was almost therapeutic.
”Find Oliver Banks.”
”What? Who?” The confusion coming from Tim caused a chuckle to slip out of Elias’ otherwise strict face. A chuckle that added even more fuel to the fire within Tim. Tim took to himself to hold his breath to limit the fire’s life span. He was afraid it would take over, he was afraid it already had, obviously. He was afraid that the smoke was going to stain his insides and he would be steaming and dirty until his eventual end.
“He’s an avatar of the End. Find him, and he might help you get her back,” an unnatural smile was carefully placed on Elias’ delicate yet old fashioned face. A thick piece of paper sat steadily between his fingers after Elias took it out of his desk drawer. The hard heels of a pair of expensive shoes were loud in the quiet room as Elias walked over and tucked the piece of paper carefully into the chest pocket of Tim’s colourful button up. “I believe this will do. Now, I wouldn’t want you to miss your train, off you go.”
This broke whatever trance Tim had been in and without a word he stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him, leaving a snickering Elias in the now empty room.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested. All throughout his train ride home his mind wouldn’t stop lingering on the piece of paper lying in his pocket. It was only when he was back at his flat, laying on the uncomfortable couch in his living room with the television playing whatever in the background, that he gave into the temptation.
The paper resembled an old fashioned business card with name, address and a black and white picture of a handsome young adult with dark skin and cold eyes staring into Tim through the camera. The name was Oliver Banks and the location was written in exact coordinates rather than an address.
A creeping feeling crawled through Tim’s spine as he looked up the location of his phone. It was a three hour drive from Tim’s apartment in London and the coordinates led to someplace in the woods, relatively far away from any road. Tim was spooked, of course, but the excitement of actually doing something for once instead of moping around in that stupid office was enough for him to make up his mind.
When he had called Elias the morning after to report his leave he was surprised to find it had already been registered and he was ready to go. He had been up almost the entire night, trying to sleep but failing to do so from the pain of the heartache he felt when thinking of Sasha. It was a constant bullet hole tearing at the barely beating organ hiding beneath his ribcage. Although it still could pump blood, the pain of it made Tim’s entire body ache of sorrow and longing for the joy of seeing Sasha again.
Tim had packed fairly lightly, a couple extra pairs of clothes just in case, a tent since he’d be travelling through the dark forest and other similar necessities. It was almost like he was going on a fun camping trip rather than trying to convince an avatar of the End to bring back someone from the dead. He had thrown the clothes into his suitcase without bothering to fold them right before going to bed the night before and his suitcase laid then in front of his front door, patiently waiting for Tim to take it with him and leave.
The car ride was long and quiet. Tim couldn’t bother putting on any music nor the radio so there was no sound in the driving vehicle except for Tim’s occasional muttering to himself and the sound of his own thoughts. They were loud that day, louder than usual. He was thinking of every possible outcome, how dangerous this might be, how Elias might have lured him. Maybe that was for the best.
Thinking about it, he didn’t mind dying. He would preferably avenge Danny somehow before doing so, but the thought of meeting his end seemed almost delightful after all the recent events at work. From the worms to Jon’s paranoia to Sasha’s death. Sasha. What would Tim say when he saw her again? If he saw her. Different scenarios played out in his head. Happy, impossible scenarios similar to endings of a fairytale. Happily ever afters that are filled with joy, celebration and love.
The breaks of Tim’s older car screeched when he pulled over at what he thought was the right place. It was quiet when he stepped out of the car, a different silence from how it had been inside his vehicle. He stood outside a dark forest with a tense silence, like those in horror movies right before a jumpscare. Tim found himself standing still, waiting for it. Waiting for anything to happen, an arrow to hit him or a wolf to attack him and feast on his flesh, yet nothing came.
An old slanted sign made out of a light wood, birch, Tim guessed, hung from a tree a couple meters from where Tim had parked his car. The two words that were written on the sign looked to have been graffitied on, which somehow made it feel even more eerie. Two words. ’GRIFTER’S BONE’. The name sparked recognition inside of Tim but he could not figure out from where. On the sign was also an arrow, pointing forward.
A silent ’thank you’ was whispered to his past self from Tim because he had bought a suitcase that doubled as a backpack. From all the googling he had made the previous night, it was a long and difficult way to walk and not having to drag his stuff behind him was a relief.
Google was right. He seemed to be treading upwards but it was hard to know for sure. The small path he was walking on seemed to go up and down over and over again like the waves carved into an ancient vase. An unnatural consistency of the ground which refused to be plain for once. At times the path would disappear and instead a big area of giant rocks to climb on would stand in its way. Tim’s legs quickly looked as if Mother Earth, Gaia herself, had beat them up.
Although he had started fairly early in the morning, Tim realised he would have to spend the night in the woods, as it was getting far too late to keep walking. As much as Tim wanted to keep watching and reach his goal, he knew he had to let his body rest or he wouldn’t reach the finish line at all.
An uncomfortably small tent was placed close enough to the path so that Tim wouldn’t get lost, yet a little further just so the tent would have some actual space to stand on. The forest was pretty thick and dark, tall trees loomed over every being travelling through it. Thinking back, Tim realised how oddly enough, he had not seen nor heard any animal while on his walk in these woods. No birds, mice, even insects. It felt empty and dead.
It would not come as a surprise that Tim did not sleep well that night. It was a cold night and his sleeping bag did not bring enough warmth as he had wished. The ground felt incredibly hard under his aching back and he was pretty sure he managed to have a couple uncomfortable stones right under where he laid during the night, not exactly brightening his experience.
And of course, his mind couldn’t stop racing. Sasha. He forced the image of her out of his mind. He was going to get Sasha, the real Sasha, not that thing that had pretended to be her. He refused to dishonour Sasha by thinking of that monster, how it looked. Perhaps it was for him, too. At least a little. He would find himself close to tears thinking how many of his interactions with Sasha had just been fake . Nothing more than a monster playing with him and his feelings. He couldn’t help but feel like that monster had emotionally targeted him especially. But it might just be because of how much it hurt when he had found out about it.
He forced himself to think happy thoughts, to think of Sasha and their happily ever after and it actually worked for once. Although his body was cold and goosebumps covered his arms and legs, Tim fell asleep with a warm feeling in and around his entire body. This time it was not the fire burning within that brought him warmth, that fiery and wild warmth that he often found he would burn himself on. Instead he felt as if sunbeams from the steaking sun shone on him and him only. The sort of sunbeams that could only exist when Sasha was. too, in the room.
His bag was quickly packed again after he had woken up. Tim would usually be the type of person to snooze five times before getting up, trying to stay in the comforting warmth of his bed for as long as possible. But this was not his bed and this was neither warm or comfortable. Better yet, he would do something good today. He wouldn’t just be moping around at the institute, but saving his best friend instead. Quite a switch if you asked him. He was coming for her and he hoped she was waiting for him, too.
The pathway did not stop being uncanny and unnatural. It was formed as if a giant snake had slithered through the woods while doing slalom trying to slide in between as many trees as possible. It felt as if he was walking on the road to hell. The weather was neither cold nor hot and Tim was grateful for that. It was a bit chilly but just enough that if you wandered for long enough, it was just the perfect temperature, cooling you down as sweat drips from your forehead. Tim cursed himself for not bringing his deodorant even though he was completely alone in this dark, creepy forest.
This went on for days. Walking for hours and hours on end before setting up a tent, getting a few hours of sleep before getting up again and getting back to walking.
It was on the fifth day that he finally saw it. He had almost started believing he had been walking in a loop, getting tricked by whatever power was out there to get him, yet he continued to walk for the possibility of his lover's life. He had entertained himself with thoughts of how Jon might react if he never returned or even better, if he returned with Sasha. That scruffy man would probably shrivel up like a dry sponge, nothing left of him but a dry body and holes running through it. Though if you thought about it, that was who he was already.
After an unusual upward walk, the path had led Tim to bare ground. A field with grass growing like crazy and weeds everywhere, yet barely no trees. A house stood stately in the middle of said field. Ivy crawling over the brick cottage that stood there, standing alone yet secure, something Tim still hadn’t figured out to do yet.
He knew this was where Oliver Banks was and when he was met with a man who looked exactly like the picture Elias had given him, Tim knew it for sure. Oliver was taller than him, not much, yet Tim felt the slightest bit overpowered by the man in front of him.
”You’re Oliver Banks,” it came out as a whisper as Tim let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt as stiff as a building, thoughts rushing through his mind like people when the fire alarm goes off.
”I am. Who, who are you? Why are you all alone, here of all places?” It almost sounded like an accusation by the way he said it, a questioning tone expecting the worst.
”I’m Tim, Tim Stoker, doesn’t matter. My- Sasha. Is it possible for me to get her back?” It almost came out as a whine, he was desperate, to say the least.
”Slow down now, who?”
”Sasha James, my best friend. Someone told me you would be able to bring her back to life, is that true?” Someone also known as Tim’s shady boss.
”I suppose it is, but why would I help you?” Oliver gestured to the inside of the house. Together he and Tim walked into the small yet rather cosy cottage standing there alone. The inside was only loosely decorated with one or another vintage trinkets like those you could find in a carboot sale or on an auction in a small town. No photos were present to indicate any family or friends of Oliver. Simply standing there made you feel alone, something Tim had felt a lot recently.
Oliver brought Tim to sit down on the couch as he prepared two steaming cups of tea. Earl grey, Tim guessed. It brought back memories of the early days in the archives. When Martin would make them all tea as Jon sat in his office like the workaholic he was and Tim and Sasha would be chatting in the breakroom, gossiping about whatever. Sitting there, alone with an unknown man in the middle of the woods, that was what he longed for. The comforting warmth of everyday life. Life without death or monsters, though it’s impossible to achieve. At least with his profession.
”Sasha, that was her name, right? What did she look like?” Oliver had sat down next to Tim now, placing the two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them, mugs with blue floral decoration, like something a grandma would own. Every word Oliver said caused newly lit sparks fly all over Tim’s insides, his anger rising again. Though this time, the tears of sadness dripping from his heart drowned the fire and he managed to keep calm by taking deep breaths, sucking in the air, hoping it wouldn’t light the fire once again.
In reality, Tim didn’t know, he didn’t know what she had looked like. He refused to say it, to admit it, not yet. Instead he replied by telling Oliver how he had met Sasha, how her presence would light up the room as she entered. How her voice would sound melodic in Tim’s ears and not to mention her laugh. He told Oliver of the evenings they would spend at the bar, the night they spent together, their days spent in the archives with Martin and Jon too. He told Oliver of how each minute he spent with her, his chest would ache more and more in longing.
Oliver’s expression didn’t change at all as Tim spilled his heart out, yet Tim knew he was listening carefully, eyes set on him, considering if he should help him out or not. Tim sucked in a deep breath to brace himself before continuing. He didn’t want to talk about her death, that would make it more real than Tim would like to admit to himself. A reality Tim wasn’t ready to face, probably never would be.
”The archive got attacked. Jane Prentiss, worm lady, whatever. Unbeknownst to us others, Sasha got murdered during the attack. A vicious monster that not only took her precious life but also took over it, pretending to be her. It didn’t even look like her, according to Melanie, at least. Yet no one noticed. For eight whole months we continued with work without noticing anything,” the dam burst, unleashing liters of salt water that Tim had kept buried in his tear ducts ever since he found out about Sasha. Tears that watered the soil in his soul, slowly letting him heal, letting him grow from the grief like a flower blooming. His sleeves were quickly turning damp from wiping his tears. He wouldn’t dare look Oliver in the eyes now, vulnerable and weak. “I, I don’t remember what she looked like.”
A strangled noise came from Oliver’s direction and Tim finally looked up, no regard to how he looked. Oliver’s mouth was open but no word was uttered. He looked shocked, bewildered even and Tim thought he saw a tint of familiarity in his face. It was the opposite from the reaction he had expected. The room remained silent for a couple minutes as Oliver slowly and carefully gathered himself. Just as Tim was about to ask how he was, Oliver finally responded.
”That thing. It took my boyfriend too,” now it was Tim’s time to be shocked. What were the chances? ”Graham. It took Graham.”
The silence once again laid itself on top of the two men like a blanket, protecting them from the monster that might reveal itself if they kept talking.
”But you’re an avatar of the End, couldn’t you bring him back?” It was pure confusion that coated Tim’s words.
”I wasn’t back then, no,” the way Oliver phrased his sentence made Tim wonder how long ago it had happened. How long ago he had lost the most important part of himself. ”And it goes against my nature to bring people back, even if they’re my loved ones. That’s just how the End is. That’s not to say it isn’t something I can do. I am fully able to.”
”Sasha. Can you?” His voice was shaking, terrified of the answer. If Oliver refused, Tim had spent days wandering in bad conditions for nothing. Though the way Oliver had phrased his sentence, it was almost as if he was reassuring Tim he was going to help him. Yet Tim refused to get his hopes up, afraid he would jinx it all and lose Sasha forever.
”I can,” Tim couldn’t help it as relief flooded through his blood system. He can help. He tried to contain himself from screaming out in joy, he was getting Sasha back, his Sasha. ”But I won’t make it easy for you.”
”How do you mean?”
”I will summon her and you shall walk with her right behind. If you turn around, she’s gone forever but if you walk all the way out of the woods, she will be brought back to life.”
“Do I get the chance to look at her before I start walking,” Oliver shook his head, no. He’d have to hold out, only when he saw the light of the sun without tall trees taunting him, he would also get the chance to see his sun.
Only half an hour later, Tim bid his farewells to Oliver. It wasn’t heartfelt, not at all, if anything Tim would suspect Oliver was relieved he left. He was right, of course. Oliver felt himself calm again the second Tim had left. He no longer had to look at those veins, swirling around Tim’s entire body, waiting patiently to strangle what’s left of the poor man. He pitied him, of course, anyone would. It was clear he had not always been that bony and pale, Sasha’s death had hit him hard, that’s for sure.
It brought Oliver back memories of when he found out about Graham. He had broken up with him just a month before; he felt as if he was a different person, though he couldn’t point to an actual reason why he felt as such. Someone named Amelie, no, Amanda, no… Amy, perhaps? No matter. She came forward to Oliver with her story, how someone had taken over Graham’s life. He hadn’t believed it, not then. It was only when the dreams started he started to believe her, how could he not? He was thrown into a world of monsters and entities, his chore being to believe. Deep down, Oliver thought that it might’ve been Graham’s death that had pushed him to the End. Like a worm stuck on a fishing hook, a lure, helpless about how it sooner or later will be eaten.
The loneliness was lonesome while back on the path. He wasn’t alone, not really, Sasha was right behind but he couldn’t hear her. Perhaps that was for the best. He made an effort not to think of how Sasha had it in the moment. Probably clueless, pleading for Tim to look at her, notice her. It filled Tim with rage; that even then, after all his effort, she wasn’t fully back yet.
He knew that if he’d turn around he’d find out how she really looked. Those features he had admired back when he met her, back at their old days in the archives, before she changed. That face that brought sunlight to his rainy days, sweetness to his occasional bitterness. That body that felt like a goddess’, a touch bringing electric shocks through Tim’s nervous system. A voice more efficient than melatonin, bringing comfort like laying in the beds of Olympus. Softness tied together with the feel of home.
He didn’t stop to sleep, he didn’t dare. He feared that if he did, he might lose her; and he would not do that, not again. Sleep called to him like a howling dog in his head, bringing constant attention to it, aggression growing but Tim refused. Claws ripped at Tim’s insides, making it more and more difficult for him to continue walking. His body burned in pain, an all-consuming agonising pain. Simply breathing was difficult, like he was stuck in a room filled with smoke.
The road felt much longer this time. The anticipation of achieving his mission weighing Tim down like a foot shackle was following him, causing a trail of newly dug dirt to follow him through the woods. Yet it was not only anticipation that slowed him down, doubt. Doubt of the truth, why would Oliver help him? He had told Tim himself that it was against his nature to bring back the dead, why would he make such an exception?
To Tim, Sasha’s weeps sounded to him like simple breezes of wind. Her reassurances reached deaf ears.
With his vision blurring and black spots covering it, Tim sat down on a bigger rock on the path with a thump. He had to stay strong, keep walking. He let himself take a couple bites of the old sandwiches he had packed with him as well as drink a couple sips out of his almost empty water bottle. He didn’t let himself waste much time, he would get her back and it would be soon. His own weighted steps being all he heard in that empty forest except for occasional breezes of wind rustling the leaves of the trees up above him.
He wouldn’t survive walking for much longer. Hopelessness had been bubbling up inside of him for days and the bubble burst with a simple turn of his head.
He remembered. To say she was beautiful would be an understatement. The fireworks were stronger than ever but only now they were filled with more emotions than Tim had ever experienced at once. Love, the woman he loved stood right in front of him. Relief, the woman he had lost, a step away, Oliver hadn’t lied. Mourning, he lost her, again.
“It’s you ,” it sounded more like a choked sob than a real sentence coming from Tim. He wasn’t just mourning Sasha now, but everyone he’s ever lost. Weeping for the unfairness of life and death – that greedily takes people; young and old, sinners and saints. Grief taking bigger and bigger bites of him each second that passed like he was part of a feast in the underworld. Like perhaps if he let it continue, he’d soon be stuck around the dead, just like them.
“It’s me,” her eyes were bloodshot, shining with the liquid she tried to contain in her eyes. She was smiling, for the second Tim had turned around, she knew she was loved. He had reached for her eagerly like Icarus had reached for the sun. Reaching for the unattainable. Thus he had failed. Even his wings were bound to break, nothing could help him reach what he wished for. “Tim.”
“Sasha,” he found himself appreciating these few seconds, getting to see her again. He knew he wouldn’t later, he’d be angry and self-destructive. He would lash out at anyone around him, that was just how he was. He refused to let the grief and sorrow rule over him, much less the small happy parts that were left. He deserved no happiness and neither would he obtain it.
She started evaporating, like a sand castle in the wind. Aeolus’ rage bringing destruction to buildings and anguish to those who are there to witness it. Before he knew it, Tim reached for her embrace. He wanted to hold her like he had before. Holding her felt like holding the world and no one could live for long not holding their own world, whether it be Earth or not.
It was only after there was nothing left of her but the faint outline of steps in the dirt path that Tim turned back around again to see the entrance to the outside world in the distance. Had it been there all along? Sun beams like those he had just seen, just from another sun, yet it seemed so cold and weak coming from the sun, the real sun, the star in the sky. It brought no joy, only despair.
It wasn’t long after he came back that he found out about the Unknowing. It would be performed in the same wax museum that NotSasha had frequently gone to.
A piper’s tune of melancholy followed him wherever he went and he knew it was coming from that wax museum. Murderous clowns taunting him, leading him to his death and he was right behind. Eager to get his revenge on those who killed his brother and dying whilst doing so would only be a bonus.
He had never felt so warm yet happy as when the explosion tore his body in pieces while burning him alive. As his flesh was cooking, Tim knew it was not just the explosion that caused all the scorching warmth, but something inside him, too.