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Wash Away My Sins	By : horrorgal Category: +A through F > Amnesia: The Dark Descent Views: 2697 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own, Amnesia: The Dark Descent, nor the characters. I do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13
The study was one of the rooms Daniel enjoyed being in the most. It was spacious with immaculate architecture and decor, some of the finest he had ever seen. Large windows let in sunshine that had finally broken through the thick clouds. He was seated, flipping through a book to pass the time while John was out on business.
He could hear the sounds of the city through the slightly opened window. People were about, buildings being constructed as London was expanding. He did miss the peace of the country, but this change of scenery was indeed treating him well. So far, John had been right in his assumptions, and Daniel was feeling more like himself again.
The occasional dream still intruded, but they lacked the terrifying hold of his last unspeakable experience on the farm. He felt he could really start to heal here and rid himself of any lingering doubts. He continued to keep making entries in his journal, no matter how mundane his day might be. He felt it helped him through this grueling process of moving on from his past.
The first week of their extended holiday, he and John uncovered the furniture and took down item from the attic storage to make the place feel more like home. John ordered goods in for the kitchen and went about the task of getting in servant to take care of the household, as he left Rose and the others at the farm to keep order there.
Daniel sat his book aside and sipped some tea, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face that shone through the window. Spending months here, as John suggested, sounded better with the passing of each day. Their time was spent talking, enjoying each others company and exploring the city. The nights were full of passion, the warmth of John's arms chasing away the fear in his heart a little bit at a time.
Daniel dozed in the chair, mind drifting towards the comfort of sleep. The sounds of the servants moving about did not disturb him, but helped him relax to have others so near. A soft click. Was that the window? A cool breeze touched his skin, and it was then that he opened his eyes to see the latch on the window had slipped open with the wind. He muttered to himself about not latching the hook tight enough and got up to remedy the situation.
The study was on the upper level of the home and he had a good view of the cobbled street below as he grabbed the latch and pulled the window back into place to fix the hook. His hands froze. Standing below, there was a man that was hard to mistake for anyone else. He should not be there. He couldn't be there. The man was dead. His long white hair, his wrinkled, yet strong facial features. The aristocratic clothing a red that he remembered the Baron of Brennenburg often wearing.
Daniel closed his eyes tight against the cruel vision. It had to be his imagination again, twisting reality into something made up in his own mind. His hands still grasped the window and he fumbled to latch the hook, but a sudden force ripped the window from his hands as if a gust of unnatural wind blew from behind him, yet he felt no sensation of a breeze as if the air around him had just been sucked away. He was too terrified to yell, eyes snapped open to see he was still there, this time looking straight up at him. Even at the distance it made Daniel flinch as if their eyes were mere inches apart.
"You look well, Daniel."
"Oh, God," he whispered. Even his deep and rich voice was unmistakable.
"In the end, I could not fault you for your revenge. We were both desperate men."
Daniel stood frozen, unable to move or shriek, looking down at the man with wide, unbelieving eyes. He's not really there. I'm just having another breakdown. It's all in my head. He's not there. He's not there.
"Oh, I'm here, Daniel. Flesh and blood. Shall I come inside and prove the reality?"
His mouth opened to say no, but only a cracked whimper escaped him. Why can't I move? Shut the window. Run. Do something! That man was not human, and there he stood, probably back for revenge of his own. He felt so cold, but sweat drenched his skin as he fought to make sense of what was happening. Was he about to die now? The chuckle in his mind nearly made his knees give way, the feeling like spiders skittering over his brain.
"Perhaps another time then." Alexander lifted a hand in farewell. "I left something for you. I do hope you appreciate it."
Daniel once again attempted to speak, but his words would not come forth, straining like a mute attempting to give voice for the first time. The force around him vanished as if it had never been there at all and he fell to his knee, gasping heavily. His head swam, the dizzy sensation making him feel ill deep in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed back against the urge to vomit, hands clenched against the floor, head bowed down. The whole thing felt surreal, like it wasn't really happening, but part of him knew this was no dream or imagination.
He jerked and turned his head to look at the study door when a crisp knock interrupted his horrified confusion. He swallowed thickly, unsure whether to answer, not knowing if he even could. He didn't even trust his legs to stand. Was it him? Did he come inside, or was he still standing precariously outside the house?
"Sir, are you in there? You have a package that was just delivered." It was just the new butler.
Daniel cleared his throat. "Jus....just leave it outside the door. I will get it shortly. Thank you, Robert."
"Are you alright, Sir? You sound distraught."
"No, no. I'm fine," he lied, willing the man to just do as he asked.
"Very well, Sir. I'll leave the package right here." He heard a soft shuffle of movement, then the sound of his retreating footsteps heading back downstairs.
"God..." Daniel put a hand over his mouth, feeling his gorge rise again. He swallowed thick against the swelling sick sensation, looking up at the window that he expected to still be hanging open, but was now tightly closed and firmly latched shut. "It was open," he whispered, not taking his eyes off of it as he pushed himself to stand on trembling legs. He felt weak, all the way to his bones as he stood there looking at the window, almost expecting it to blow open again.
He moved forward, curious, yet terrified to see if he was still standing there. Alexander was gone, but he could almost feel his presence still there, watching, waiting. He backed away from the window and went to the desk, opening the cork on the bottle of wine that sat there. He poured a glass with trembling hand and drank deep, glancing from the window to the door, twitching nervously.
Was the package really from Alexander? He didn't want to open it, but he felt compelled to do so. He watched the door and poured more wine, slowly getting control over his trembling body. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. He drank until he felt a soft, pleasant buzz warm his body and calm his beating heart. He could wait no longer.
Daniel went to the door, cracking it open slow to look out in the hall. None of the servants were around as he hoped and he knelt to pick up the small and plain brown paper package that sat of the floor. There was no indication who it was from. It only had his name on it and location. He quickly shut the door and went back to the desk, getting a small blade out of the drawer to cut the thinly twined string around it, hands shaking as he ripped back the paper.
"This can't be." It was his pocket watch and wallet he'd had on him when he was attacked that fateful night.
~~~
Daniel was quick to hide the pocket watch and wallet in the bag where he kept his journal. He didn't know what motivated him to do so, but he was reluctant to discard them. He would keep this from John for now. He wasn't prepared to share what happened, and the servants appeared to be unaware of any strange happenings. When he asked Robert who had delivered the package, he merely said it was the postman.
He tried to make sense of it. Maybe Alexander paid the man to deliver it. He picked at his dinner, drinking more wine to dull his senses. He was trying to drown his guilt as well. John watched him closely as they sat across from each other. Of course Daniel wouldn't tell him what was wrong. He wasn't sure how to without worrying his lover.
Was it wise not to speak of it? He wasn't sure what Alexander was after, but he didn't want John to get hurt in the process. If he lost John, the anguish would be more than he could handle. He had felt loss before, when his sister passed away, but this was different. This was a man he wanted to share the rest of his life with.
"Not enjoying the food?" John asked.
"Oh, no. I mean, it's very good. I guess I'm just not that hungry."
"You are looking rather pale. Are you feeling ill?"
"Maybe a little," Daniel admitted, stomach still unsettled from this afternoon.
"Maybe you should retire for the night and get some rest," John suggested. "If you are feeling better tomorrow, maybe we can go to Regents Park. We could visit the Colosseum and see the Hall of Mirrors."
Daniel nodded. "I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow. Maybe I just ate something that didn't agree with me," he said. The lie came easy enough, but he wasn't sure how convincing it was. John studied him a moment more before he called one of the servants in to clear the table and bring in some hot tea.
Daniel wanted to keep drinking the wine, but gave up the glass. He supposed getting drunk wasn't what he really needed. It would only make him feel worst in the end. As it was, his head was floating with a slight buzz and he did indeed feel exhausted. Going to bed early was probably for the best, after he wrote today's events into his journal first. He wanted to get it done before he lost any of what happened.
John drank some tea and spoke again, intruding on his thoughts. "Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?"
"No, why do you ask?" He hoped his expression was as calm as it felt.
"Just concern, Daniel. If something else... unusual happened, you can tell me."
"No. I'm fine really. Just having a off day." He felt worse every time he held back the truth, but he couldn't even begin to explain. He needed to wait it out and think things through to even make sense of it. If the man he saw really was Alexander, how did he survive?
John appeared satisfied and did not question him further as they drank their evening tea. Daniel went upstairs shortly after, leaving John to speak with the servants and plan for the following day. He slipped his journal out of his bag and sat at the desk, turning up the flame on the oil lamp before he began writing.
He started from the beginning, hands trembling when he got to the appearance of Alexander. Even as he wrote he felt dread sink into him, his nerves putting him on edge, but he continued on. He wrote out every detail, every sensation and emotion he felt in the moment. This could be why he was having so many tainted visions and nightmares. If Alexander had been in possession of his watch and wallet, then he must have been there as well, not just here in London. He was probably the one who murdered his attacker.
He had finally found some answers, but it only heightened his fear and he was really no closer to knowing what he could do to stop the torment. Did Alexander want to kill him? It would be the most obvious answer, but why hadn't he done it already? He could have easily done so with the power he now seemed to wield, but how did he come about having this unearthly power over his mind. Yes, he was not of this mortal world, but even when he was Brennenburg, the Baron had only so much strength over him.
Daniel wrote the last of his journal entry and closed the cover, then corked the inkwell before he slipped the items back in the bag and in the bottom desk drawer. He locked it with a small key he kept in a different hidden spot. It's not that he didn't trust John, but he wanted his thoughts and experiences private for now. He had to get up the courage to even reveal what was going on, that is, if it wasn't all just some sick fantasy in his own troubled mind. He shuddered. Fantasy or reality, it was his burden and nightmare to vanquish before he lost himself completely.
He readied for bed, leaving a single candle lit for himself and for John when he came in to join him. He curled under the covers and watched the flame dance, memorized by it's subtlety. Would the nightmares return again? He was so tired of mind, and his body soon followed. He fell into a fitful, but dreamless sleep, only settling completely when John silently slipped into the bed a few hours later, blowing out the remaining candle before taking the uneasy man in his arms.
"Rest, my love. All will be well again soon enough," John whispered, holding his sleeping body possessively to his own.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Wash Away My Sins