Chapter 42

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Three days left

Jacob

I stumbled out of the bar, putting one foot in front of the other to make my way to the payphone at the corner of the street. My phone died long ago and even if I enjoyed the silence that brought, there was a call I needed to make.

The air outside was biting at my skin and it was so dark that I could barely make out the payphone in the distance. It seemed as if nature was working against me, trying to keep me from giving into the destructive thoughts.

When I finally reached the payphone, I angled my body in such a way that I wasn't too exposed to the wind. But most importantly, I was trying to avoid the gawking eyes that were hiding in the shadows, spying at me and waiting for a moment of weakness.

I was hanging on the rope of reality, trying with all my might to hold on and yet I knew that it was all too heavy, weighing me down, and I would fall into the depths of sanity eventually.

With jittery hands I put coins into the payphone and dialled the number that I acquired earlier that day. The sweet smell of triumph had already faded away and was replaced with rotten desperation.

As the phone rang, I glanced around, my head ducked down, and yet I felt as if I was perfectly at display, as if I presented myself on a silver platter. In a way, that was exactly what I did. I just didn't care enough about my own life to figure something else out. Or maybe I had hoped that my new and bold strategy would surprise him, giving me the upper hand.

The phone rang, rang, rang, testing my patience. Then, the call finally connected, throwing me into a conversation I would never be ready to have.

I whispered, almost inaudible, "Hello?"

My mind went blank, and my breathing ceased as I was anticipating the snarky remarks of my opponent.

"Jacob?" he sang, a bizarre joy in his voice as he said my name. It made me wonder if he practiced it on his own, the way it rolled off his tongue, the tone of his voice.

I let out a muffled sigh, "Yes. It's me. How are you, Ian?" A sense of superiority filled me as I called him by his real name, hoping it caught him off guard.

Instead, he chuckled lowly, showing no sign of weakness. "So, you finally figured out who I am? Took you long enough. Good job, Jace."

I nodded as if he could see me and waited for him to continue.

After a few seconds, he did, "Then you also know why I am doing this." His voice was as poisonous as I remembered, every word stinging my senses. Yet, it sounded a little muffled, a little too high and unnatural. Was he putting on an act, a show, in hopes to conceal his identity a little longer?

I swallowed hard, contemplating how much I should give away. "Yes. I know," I finally admitted. "You loved her," I paused, "You loved Ava."

"Don't say her name," he hissed at me quickly. His breathing turned shallow, and it almost felt like he was breathing down my neck. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of it.

My heart quickened, threatening to burst at any moment. He wasn't here and still I feared him, still I felt him. I feared that he might appear behind me at any given moment. I even turned around to make sure that he wasn't there. But I was sure that this time, he wouldn't just stab my leg. No, he would make sure that I never woke again. That was what he really craved - my death.

I had escaped death one too many times, I thought. Surely, I wouldn't be lucky another time. Although, I wasn't entirely sure if you could call it luck.

He let out a put-on sigh, as if he was completely disinterested in this conversation. Then his voice turned a little quieter, making me wonder whether he was alone or not. "Jacob, may I ask why you are calling me? Don't get me wrong, I love talking to you," he laughed eerily, "but I am a little busy, you know."

It felt as if my vocal cords were tangled when I answered him at last, "I have an offer for you."

"Oh?" he uttered surprised. He paused for a moment, before spitting at me in a voice full of disdain, "And what makes you think I would make a deal with you?"

His pure hatred for me radiated even through the phone but when I examined my heart, I only found apathy for him.

"Because it is an offer you can't turn away," I simply argued. I really hoped this would be true.

My fists clenched in anticipation for his response, but he took his sweet time, letting me marinate in the anxiety.

"Mhm, okay," he chuckled, "I am listening, Jacob. Give it your best shot."

I straightened up my posture and cleared my throat, knowing that the following words could never be taken back, "Take me instead." My voice was but a mere whisper, but it felt like a stone rolled off my heart when I finally gave in. "Take me instead," I reiterated, a little more confident this time.

He sucked in a breath of air, "Jacob, are you saying you want me to kill you?" In the true nature of the serpent, he thrived of pure agony.

"Yes," I exclaimed, "Let Aria go and kill me instead." Clear and utter defeat was evident in my voice, in the way my head hung low, and my body slumped. The words hung between us for a long while and I began to truly feel the severity of them.

"I must admit," he began again, "I did not expect this, Jacob."

The Serpent sighed theatrically, "But isn't this spoiling the game? I am having so much fun."

I rolled my eyes at his petty mind games. If I had the time, the stamina, I could win this game, beat him. But I was exhausted, overwhelmed and afraid. If I ever had the chance at winning, it had dissipated into thin air long ago.

"But," he laughed, "You are right. This is an offer I simply cannot refuse. Meet me at the Devil's Bridge. I assume you know where that is?"

Whilst I was relieved that he took my offer, I still wanted it to be under my conditions.

"I'll be there at dawn. In two days. If Aria is not there," I threatened sincerely, "I will kill you."

Just like that, I had made a deal with the devil.

There was no contract, no handshake. Never in my life had I thought that I would trust the devil and yet I was left without a choice. If I did however lose my mind, before I could save my sister, we would both suffer the consequences.

"To love is to sacrifice," my dad always said, and no one lived that out better than him.

What better way to show Aria that I loved her, that I am truly sorry for all my mistakes, than laying down my life for her? I would gladly cease to exist as a sign of my love for her and my remorse for my sins. This wasn't quitting. This was penance.

It felt heavy, final and I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely terrified of dying and yet there was an internal peace calming me. Believe me when I say, I would stoop down into hell and burn if it meant that Aria could live. She was pure, white innocence and I was nothing but darkness. She deserved to live, and I deserved to die. In my mind it was a simple equation, like the law of nature.

I made my choice and whilst I suffered the effects of the finality of it, I rejoiced in the hope that Aria will lead a better life, one that is far away from all the debased violence and mayhem we endured. There was still hope for her. For me, however, I thought it was too late. Even if I survived somehow, each and every moment of peace and joy would always remain fleeting, incomplete and so truly unsatisfactory without Aria. And in a little corner of my heart, I was silently hoping that at least my memory would live on in Aria. And that would be enough for me. It would have to be enough. Maybe I didn't even deserve that honour.

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