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Sypher

April 17, 2021, still freshman year, spring semester,

With a thud, my bags hit the floor. I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out my keys and unlocked the door, the cold metal a contrast to my numb fingers. A grunt escaped my lips while I pushed open the door, the smell of stale air hitting me before I saw my friend lying on my bed, a half-eaten bag of chips beside him.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“Thought you could use a friend.”

Hefting my bags from the floor, I stomped into the room and turned to deliver a forceful kick to the door. It slammed shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room, and I stumbled to my desk, dropping heavily into my chair, the worn wood groaning under my weight. With a sigh, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and savored the complete absence of sound.

I should have known I wouldn’t have to wait long for Reaper to call. Because the second he did, I knew my ass was grass. Instead of enjoying a break at home, I received an order from Reaper, demanding my immediate return home to face the consequences of my actions, which involved the possibility of a firing squad. Although we all got our asses chewed by Reaper, I took comfort in the presence of my brothers, who stood firm by my side. The entire situation directly resulted from our actions, as my brothers and I had secretly aided Dylan in his efforts to conclude the conflict with the Society —a decision made without Reaper’s knowledge or consent.

My mom instilled in me the importance of family above all else, and since Dylan was family, defending him was only natural. All the brothers were. So, technically, I was helping my family. In the end, it all worked out, and the Society was officially no more.

“It’s all over the school.”

“What is?”

“What you did.”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Oh yes, you did,” he said, sitting up slowly, a thoughtful expression settling on his features. “Been watching you since you got here, Danny. All of us have. Even the professors. No one knows what to make of you, but we all agree on one thing. That you are too damn smart for your own good.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know it was you who brought down the Society . Hell, man, it’s on every fucking news channel. Can’t escape it. You need to be more careful, or you will have every alphabet group banging on your door. They don’t enjoy being played.”

“It wasn’t me. I just went home for a family emergency.”

“Liar.”

With a groan, I sat up and glared at my friend, my heart pounding in my chest, and asked, “Why are you really here, Dante?”

I met Dante shortly after arriving at school. His bright smile was the first thing I noticed in the crowded hallway. He shared a multitude of similarities with me, making us quite alike in many aspects of our lives. Brilliant, good with computers, and a loner. Because of those similarities, we became good friends.

We kind of just clicked.

I came from a large family, a stark contrast to Dante’s solitary upbringing, where he lacked the company and support of loved ones. He listened intently and genuinely seemed curious when I spoke of my family back home—his interest evident in the numerous questions he asked.

Leaning forward, he looked at me, a sigh escaping his lips like a whispered confession. “I’ve been approached to prospect for the Soulless Sinners.”

Turning to my best friend, I frowned, noticing the worry etched into his features. “But you haven’t finished school.”

“My start-up went global. What more can this place teach me that I don’t already know?”

“You only have a few more classes before graduation. Make them wait.”

“You, of all people, know it doesn’t work that way.”

“If you don’t want to join them, tell them no.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Dante stood and walked to my window, his shadow stretching long and thin across the room as he stared out into the night, the darkness pressing in from the glass.

“Danny,” he said, his voice tight with suspicion. “Have you looked into my past?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Dante shrugged, and the muscles in his shoulders tightened as he stood at the window, never looking at me. The darkness outside was a stark contrast to the dim light of the room.

“Promise me you won’t.”

“Dante, what’s going on?”

“Just promise me, Danny.”

“Can’t do that.”

He let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. He nodded, almost as if the weight of the world laid heavy on his chest. When he turned to face me, his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t decipher, and then, with a quick and subtle shift in his demeanor, he deftly changed the subject. He excelled at that when the conversation became too much, silently retreating into himself.

“You should know that Gabby has been going around campus telling everyone who would listen that you two are an item.”

With a dramatic roll of my eyes, I let out a long, drawn-out groan. “No, we’re not. We had sex once. That was it.”

“Told you she was going to be trouble.”

“I can handle her,” I stated, getting to my feet.

“No, you can’t.” He shook his head, smirking as he walked toward me. “That’s why I took care of her for you. She won’t be a problem anymore.”

“What did you do?” I asked suspiciously.

His hands, warm and gentle, cradled my face as he gazed into my eyes, before he rested his forehead against mine and whispered softly, “What I will always do where you are concerned. You are too trusting, Danny. You see the good in everyone. If you’re not careful, that trust will bite you in the ass.”

“Don’t go.”

He sighed and then released me.

From the beginning of our friendship, I felt a strange, foreign magnetism for my best friend. An intangible quality that both intrigued and evaded me yet kept me drawn to him. The sensation was so strange, so otherworldly, that I could never find the right words to articulate it.

His easy smile and quick wit made it clear to me that I liked Dante. Where I was quiet and introspective, he was boisterous and a natural leader. He was everything I wasn’t. While I felt weak, his demeanor radiated confidence. We just clicked; it was an instant connection like we’d known each other forever.

I knew he despised the girls I was involved with. The way he clenched his jaw whenever their names came up told me everything. He always found fault, yet despite his disapproval, he never stopped me from indulging in my baser needs.

Even when I was with girls, I found it hard to connect with them and always put distance between us because I used them for one purpose only. Still, a persistent ache lingered, a sense of incompleteness that followed me like a shadow. A sense of wrongness, a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious symphony of the day. I only knew that whenever I was with Dante, life improved drastically. It was as if his mere existence provided a much-needed sense of order and clarity amidst the turmoil of my own existence.

“Stay.”

“I can’t,” he said, walking toward the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he stopped, never looking back at me, and added, “I know you better than you know yourself, Danny. I’ve always known. You won’t find what you’re looking for here. When you’re ready, come find me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Shaking his head, he said nothing more, just simply walked out of my life.

“You need to get your ass here, fast,” I vaguely heard someone say as I covered my ears. It was all too much. I couldn’t stop it. “He’s losing it, man. I don’t know how to help him.”

Over the course of days, weeks, and months, a profound and unsettling darkness gradually took hold of my innermost being, its tendrils wrapping around my heart and mind. School had lost all meaning and relevance to me. I felt completely detached and apathetic towards my education. I increasingly avoided friends, and my friendships became strained and ultimately irritating.

But it was the women.

The scores of women, even prostitutes I used to fulfill a deep-seated desire with no intention of forming lasting connections. And when that failed, I plunged further into the oppressive, suffocating darkness, craving a more profound experience. I craved anything that would make me feel genuine, vibrant, and significant. A person who mattered in this world.

I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the change, but it felt deeply connected to the lingering effects of my parents’ death—a subtle ache even after the depression lifted. But what worried me most was the anger—a burning, furious rage that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. The palpable vitriol was a suffocating presence, heavy and oppressive, squeezing the air from my lungs. At no point in my life, not even once, had I ever experienced such an overwhelming, all-consuming rage. A feeling so powerful that it felt like it was constricting my ability to breathe and threatening to extinguish the very spark of life within me.

Sitting in the dark expanse of my room, I gripped my head while I rocked myself back and forth. I couldn’t get my head to shut off. Nothing worked—not my computers, not music, nothing. I couldn’t focus. I was losing what little sanity I had left.

The voices inside my head—a cacophony of condemnation—laughed at me as I shook my head and cried out in despair, feeling like I was drowning in their taunts. The truth about me was etched on their faces, their eyes cold and unforgiving. They mocked me. Belittled me. But none more so than my dad. His was the face I saw the most.

“Danny.” His voice, a beacon in the darkness, guided me back to sanity. “Take a deep breath. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Without thinking, I grabbed onto him, wrapping my arms around him. I don’t know how long I lay there, holding him, but time no longer mattered. All I cared about was that he made the faces disappear.

“What am I going to do with you?” His soothing voice washed over me while he lightly stroked my hair away from my face and the voices slowly faded.

He remained beside me for the next two weeks, his watchful presence a comfort as I slowly regained my strength, never leaving until I could stand on my own.

I knew he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t. But the sting remained as I turned and saw him stoop to tie his shoes, the silence amplifying the ache in my chest. A dull thud echoed the slow rhythm of his movements. Slowly rising, he reached for his jacket and put it on.

“You’re leaving?”

“It’s time.”

“Please stay.”

“I can’t.”