FLASHBACK....
On October 12, 1992, Caleb Zukov accidentally destroyed the soul of his younger sister, Amelia. In an instant, he lost both his best friend and only real family. Two days later, he made several important discoveries regarding the incident.
First, it was a mystical accident that hurt her, not a fall down the stairs. Second, the accident actually destroyed most of her soul, which caused her coma…
…and finally, his carelessness had caused the accident.
Wednesday, October 14, 1992. 11:35 pm, EST - 56 hours and 10 minutes after the accident
He’s desperate. His whole world just collapsed, and what’s more, it was completely his fault. With his parents showing uncharacteristic concern for their daughter, and refusing to leave the hospital, his house is empty for the second straight day in a row.
Hours earlier, Caleb realized what had happened to Amelia. After he overcame the shock and denial, he turned to the only real escape he knew he could rely on: Vodka, whiskey, and generous quantities of lambic; enough hard liquor to make someone his size pass out. Then more when he woke up, with marijuana this time. After all, the booze itself didn’t manage to make him stop hurting, but it did make him not care so much about his vomit-covered clothing and couch. But when even the charms of ten dollars worth of marijuana couldn’t accomplish it, he grew even more desperate.
He told her not to get into anything bigger, but damned Amelia was so adventurous - she had some better stuff around. Not much, but maybe it’d be enough… Well, not like she’ll be needing it now. Now, or ever again… Previously he’d refused to touch the stuff, but unlike before, Caleb really just didn’t care about the consequences. They just didn’t matter anymore. The sniffing kind of made his nose feel like it was on fire, but soon enough he was once again several shades of disconnected. He just lay there, on the floor in front of his living room couch, back against the armrest, and eyes focusing on nothing at all. Really, he was too wasted to even move. The emotional numbness didn’t really prevent him from thinking about what happened, but all the booze and drugs did sap the strength he might have otherwise had to try and think of something else.
After a few hours of just staring at the wall, he forced himself to fall over, and knocked the phone off the stand by the couch. As it hit the floor, useful thoughts finally began moving through his mind again: The only person left in the world who Caleb cared about, and who in turn cared about him. Her name was Kenna Tirenn.
It felt like he was dialing at the speed of light, but in reality he was moving so slowly that he nearly got the operator.
Ring. Ring. Ringity ring. And then it rang again. Answering machine. His voice is erratic, but he does manage to leave a message on her machine:
“Oh, that .. that’s brilliant, Kenna! I need you, and you’re … you’re not…”
And he completely loses that train of thought, as he remembers that Amelia isn’t going to be mad at him when she comes home, and finds him so wasted. He fights even more tears as he resumes speaking, spastically drawing the breath to speak:
“You know that …. those things I do? That magic? It .. it’s physics … it. … energy. You can’t create or destroy it, just … where? Why didn’t I wonder where? It - It’s people. That feeling. It’s people. Not the part you see, though. It’s the rest. It’s the important parts…
Then, with tears in his eyes. “..where are you? Don’t you leave me too. She’s dead.. Amelia’s dead and I killed-”
And that’s where her machine cut him off. He continues rambling for a time more before rolling over and passing out. The phone, which is still laying right where it was when Caleb was speaking into it, goes off of the hook. He’s too far gone to even wake up, let alone care even if he did…
First, it was a mystical accident that hurt her, not a fall down the stairs. Second, the accident actually destroyed most of her soul, which caused her coma…
…and finally, his carelessness had caused the accident.
Wednesday, October 14, 1992. 11:35 pm, EST - 56 hours and 10 minutes after the accident
He’s desperate. His whole world just collapsed, and what’s more, it was completely his fault. With his parents showing uncharacteristic concern for their daughter, and refusing to leave the hospital, his house is empty for the second straight day in a row.
Hours earlier, Caleb realized what had happened to Amelia. After he overcame the shock and denial, he turned to the only real escape he knew he could rely on: Vodka, whiskey, and generous quantities of lambic; enough hard liquor to make someone his size pass out. Then more when he woke up, with marijuana this time. After all, the booze itself didn’t manage to make him stop hurting, but it did make him not care so much about his vomit-covered clothing and couch. But when even the charms of ten dollars worth of marijuana couldn’t accomplish it, he grew even more desperate.
He told her not to get into anything bigger, but damned Amelia was so adventurous - she had some better stuff around. Not much, but maybe it’d be enough… Well, not like she’ll be needing it now. Now, or ever again… Previously he’d refused to touch the stuff, but unlike before, Caleb really just didn’t care about the consequences. They just didn’t matter anymore. The sniffing kind of made his nose feel like it was on fire, but soon enough he was once again several shades of disconnected. He just lay there, on the floor in front of his living room couch, back against the armrest, and eyes focusing on nothing at all. Really, he was too wasted to even move. The emotional numbness didn’t really prevent him from thinking about what happened, but all the booze and drugs did sap the strength he might have otherwise had to try and think of something else.
After a few hours of just staring at the wall, he forced himself to fall over, and knocked the phone off the stand by the couch. As it hit the floor, useful thoughts finally began moving through his mind again: The only person left in the world who Caleb cared about, and who in turn cared about him. Her name was Kenna Tirenn.
It felt like he was dialing at the speed of light, but in reality he was moving so slowly that he nearly got the operator.
Ring. Ring. Ringity ring. And then it rang again. Answering machine. His voice is erratic, but he does manage to leave a message on her machine:
“Oh, that .. that’s brilliant, Kenna! I need you, and you’re … you’re not…”
And he completely loses that train of thought, as he remembers that Amelia isn’t going to be mad at him when she comes home, and finds him so wasted. He fights even more tears as he resumes speaking, spastically drawing the breath to speak:
“You know that …. those things I do? That magic? It .. it’s physics … it. … energy. You can’t create or destroy it, just … where? Why didn’t I wonder where? It - It’s people. That feeling. It’s people. Not the part you see, though. It’s the rest. It’s the important parts…
Then, with tears in his eyes. “..where are you? Don’t you leave me too. She’s dead.. Amelia’s dead and I killed-”
And that’s where her machine cut him off. He continues rambling for a time more before rolling over and passing out. The phone, which is still laying right where it was when Caleb was speaking into it, goes off of the hook. He’s too far gone to even wake up, let alone care even if he did…