"There exists a species of transcendental ventriloquism by means of which men can be made to believe that something said on earth comes from Heaven."
Georg C. Lichtenberg

Ventriloquist (n.): Ventriloquism, or ventriloquy, is an act of stagecraft in which a person (a ventriloquist) creates the illusion that their voice is coming from elsewhere, usually a puppeteered prop, known as a "dummy".

Ares' POV:

Reincarnations are believed to be a fascinating twist to the phenomenon that is known as human life.

It is marvelling as life itself. Life, death, reincarnation. Some believe it to be a cycle, some a myth.

Personally, I believe that reincarnations can exist in any forms. You can feel happy one day and let go of your sadness. It can be an example of reincarnation. Being accepted and loved as you are, that can also be an example of reincarnation.

Reincarnation exists in many forms. Celestial, mortal, subjective and imaginative form. One doesn't have to burn their body to recreate themselves.

Simply, burn your soul and purify it in a way that gives you a new, meaningful life.

As your life finds a new meaning, so shall your rebirth.

___________

The slow transition of the evening to night began, shedding itself and bleeding into a darker surface.

I couldn't see any of it.

I could only feel.

Feel the morning as it represents itself in it's warm glory, feel the scorching noon, feel the misty afternoon, feel the darkness of the night.

My world was void of colors.

It was dark, dreary and sometimes, gory. Filled with the remnant of my nightmares.

For a man who doesn't see the world, everything was just a jumbled mess of entropy.

In the eyes of a blind man, there were no rules of the world, no illusion that people call colors.

In the eyes of a blind man, everything was light and dark.

The misty smell of rain wafted around the room as I sat on my bed, thinking and trying to create a mental image of what the room looked like.

Colors were now a distant memory of mine. I remembered how they looked- they were beautiful.

I was always a fan of colors and aesthetics.

Now, they were just a distant memory of jumbled up chaos.

I remember how the blues looked like, how the greens looked like. How depressing black was, how uplifting yellow was. How angry red was and how serene pink was.

The memory of the colors were fading. I was desperately holding onto the remnant of the memories I had of colors.

I focused my mind, trying to conjure up a mental image of how my room looked like. A lamp was placed on the nightside table, illuminating enough light, along with the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

The chandelier was a mixture of golden, silver golden was bright, vivid. Silver was vivid, but not vivacious. Swarovski crystals adorned the crafted piece. It wasn't a necessity, it was luxury.

My bed was big enough to fit three people, but not big enough to hold me when I had nightmares. The maids were instructed to change the covers into either pink, blue or beige. What color was it today?

My room wasn't supposed to have a lot of furniture, it was to make it easier for me. A walk in closet directly across from the bed, at the right side, a bookshelf at the left side. Did they collect dust?

Reading books was one of my hobbies. I miss reading the letters, the feel of a plain page under my finger tips. I was used to braille, I have been using it for the past 12 years.

A sofa and a round table just across the balcony door, the door that was beside the bookshelf. The sofa was black leathered, the table was a small one made of glass. There was supposed to be a chess board on it, but I know the maid had been neglecting her duties and didn't put it there.

The chess board was supposed to be made of wood and glass.

My room was themed to be green, beige and white. Three colors I liked. Green is the color of callowness, beige is the color of serenity, white represents purity. Green was a refreshing, fulfilling, cool shade. Beige was a warm, luxurious, aesthetic shade. White was so... blank, devoid, hollow.

I had to remember them.

My fists clenched on the bed sheet, my body becoming more aware of the wet shirt that clung to my skin.

I didn't know what color it was.

I remembered my room.

The only fear of mine was the colors fading away from my memory,

A sigh escaped me as I smelt an overly sweet perfume, a scent that was too familiar.

Bethany.

Sighing, I grabbed my stick, straightening my posture.

Soon the sound of her footsteps filled the room.

'Dinner's ready, Mr. Estevan," Her voice announced from outside.

"Bring it here," I ordered calmly.

"Okay, Mr. Estevan. I also needed to deliver a message from Mr.Archer."

"Go ahead."

"Mr. Archer has ordered Ms. Campbell to move into the room next door, sir."

I stiffened.

The idea of having another human being in my private space, specially a human who happened to be that nurse was enraging.

I let out a sigh, trying not to lose my cool, my fantasy of colors broken into pieces.

"She can't move to the next room."

"But sir, Mr. Ar-"

"Ask him to come upstairs," I gritted my teeth, my temper flaring, "And send the dinner in his hands. I need to have a talk with him."

"Yes, of course, sir. Anything else?" Was that pity I detected in her voice.

"If you forget to place the chess board in its respective place from tomorrow, you will be fired."

The shift in her jolly aura was almost comical. It was a sense I had developed after losing my eyesight, along with many others.

"I-I'm sorry sir-"

"And it had an unfinished game, no?" I grabbed my stick, clicking it twice on the floor, directing to the glass table, "The pieces should be where they exactly were."

"B-But-"

"Don't think of changing anything," I stated quietly, "I will know if you mess up."

"Sir-"

"You are excused," I sighed, irritation crawling up my skin.

I heard a rather loud sigh resonating in the room before the shoes clicked away.

I focused my senses on my surroundings again, but for some reason my mind kept reverting back to Archer's command. Letting out a low grunt, I kicked my shoes off somewhere in the room.

Why was I assigned to her?

Her presence was warm, but not in a welcoming kind of way. In more like a sensual kind of way. Like she could use and discard men. A person's presence could say a lot about them if paid attention to.

I remember how her soft floral smell with a hint of cocoa mingled with her own smell, creating the perfect kind of seductive aura.

She was alluring, beckoning me like a moth. It had been years since I felt a woman's presence this close.

Her smell ignited something within me, it was fucking addictive and I wanted more.

Losing my eyesight enhanced my sense of smell. It could be a blessing or a curse.

The fact that this woman was a vixen is what bothered me the most. I didn't wish to feel this way.

Footsteps echoed again, piercing through the darkness of my world. It was slow, steady- it was Archer.

How did he look now?

Over the years, I had felt my younger brother mature, turning from a 12 year old small boy to a 25 year old man. He was almost of my size now- that was all I knew about him.

That boy looked up to me, like I was his mentor and his friend. He was the more talkative one between us.

Did he tame his wild curls he had as a kid? Did he wear a stud in his ear? The scars he had from my panic attacks, did they stay like mine or was nature more favorable to him and it healed him?

I let out a sigh as I heard a knock, my nerves loosening up. Archer was the only person that felt close to me. I was grateful for him.

"May I come in brother?"

"You don't have to ask," A small smile crawled up my face, his warm aura filling the whole room.

"Still it feels right," I heard his chuckle resonating as my ears detected the clutter of the metal cutlery- the delicious aroma of food filling the room.

"I am wearing a red shirt today, with black jeans," He muttered quietly, placing the food on the glass table with a faint thud.

I didn't say anything, but he knew that I appreciated him describing what he had worn on a respective day. It helped me picture everything better.

He knew that I wanted to hold onto my memories of colors and objects.

"Bethany said you called for me," He muttered again, taking the lid off of a bowl, the aroma of roasted beef got more profound. I tried to picture it, but failed, "Did you need to ask me something?"

"I needed to tell you something actually," A squeaking sound resonated, accompanied with his footsteps. I felt the bed dip beside me. A sound of pouring soon filled the serene void.

"Is it about Adrianna?" His voice was small, guilty almost. I could have chuckled, this fucker knew he had angered me.

"You know it is. Why did you order her to move next to my room?" I raised an eyebrow, facing where he was sitting.

"Brother, it's to help you-"

"I don't require her help," I sighed, already done with this conversation, "She can fuck off."

"You do need her help! Stop acting like a stubborn bastard!"

"Where are my manners?" I frowned.

"Ares, brother, stop pretending as if you are fine by your own!" I could feel the distaste radiating off of him, "You hurt your foot a week ago in the shower because you couldn't differentiate the space!"

"So she's helping me shower?" I asked casually.

I felt a glare piercing my forehead. A glare that could rival mine.

"It was a minor injury," I sighed, "You do not need to worry."

"And two weeks before that you slipped-"

I let out a grunt.

"My point is, brother, just give her a chance. I read the rules you put up for her and honestly, it was extremely pointless. Her job as a nurse is to help you live better. She is here for only 5 months, be nice to her." I felt him nudging my right hand. I took the warm platter from him, grabbing the fork and piercing into the roasted beef. I put a small piece in my mouth.

This chef is relatively better than the previous one.

"You don't even know if she will do a good job," Archer paused, I could feel his distaste turned excitement reverberating around me, "Adrianna won't invade your private space. Just let her help you okay?"

"And do you promise that she won't linger around me like some annoying pest?" I frowned at the bland taste of the asparagus.

"She won't, she will only help you when you are sick or accompanying you from afar when you are taking a walk, check on you three times a day. That's it."

Was I seriously giving this a thought?

"No accompanying me while I walk."

"But-"

"Don't argue. I am already making a huge compromise," I nodded, taking a gulp of water.

"Okay. Please cut out some rules," Archer pleaded, "Brother, I am worried for you."

I let a smile slip, a smile that displayed my inner melancholy.

"You are taking care of me, protecting me. Shouldn't it have been the other way round? Shouldn't it be me taking care of you?"

"Ares, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we made it through everything."

"I feel pitiful," I murmured, "I couldn't protect you when you needed it the most. I couldn't look after you..."

"Brother, please stop thinking about it," Archer muttered, "We made it. We are here."

I could only sigh in response.

The sound of rain got louder as we remained silent, a moment passed as I continued having my dinner.

"Adrianna will be sleeping in the room next to yours, please don't argue on this."

I grunted.

"If she comes into my room, she is fired."

"But what if something-"

"Archer, stop worrying," I sighed, keeping down the plates and straightening my back, "This is my final decision."

"Commandment you mean, controlling old man."

I rolled my eyes as I felt him standing up, "I almost forgot, the hospital contacted me today."

I stiffened, my hands clenching around my walking stick.

"There might be a possibility of you receiving the transplant soon."

"How soon?"

"A couple of months."

A shiver ran down my spine as cold sweat formed on my temple.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Hope.

A hope I dared to nurture despite getting it shattered again and again.

A hope that I could see the colors again.

"They said this source is legit, I am sure that we will get it," Archer said quietly.

Why did I feel like the tissues won't match, this time too?

"Goodnight, big brother," Archer articulated, "Please take your meds on time."

With that he walked away, his shoes clicking sharply.

Why did it feel like I failed him?

Why did the heaviness of my chest increase a little bit more?

Letting out a heavy breath, I let myself up- walking to the closet, changing into a more comfortable shirt, leaving the buttons open, all while my mind lingered on the revelation.

Plopping down on the bed, my fingers fumbled for the light switch. Not that I needed to turn off the light, I wasn't just a big fan of unorder.

How ironic.

My fingertips hovered over my mask, a mask that concealed half of my face. Grabbing it, placed it beside my pillow- sighing.

That mask can hide my scars, not me.

I felt the exhaustion of my soul seep into me as I closed my eyes, shutting down the images and the colors of my mind.

My exhaustion, my disability was a poison to me. A poison that killed me keeping me alive.

Somedays, I wanted to end it all.

But then the image of a 12 year old boy crying his heart out would pop into my head.

"Did dad leave us?"

"He was taken by the angels..." My voice was foreign to my ears.

I was looking at my younger self.

"And brother Liam? Did he leave with dad too."

"He can't leave dad alone you know?" I smiled gently, "He might get lost."

Lies.

I lied to him that day.

"And your eyes? What happened to your eyes?" I saw him pointing at my bandaged eye through my blurry vision.

I had no answer.

"Did they take your eyes too?"

I had no answer.

"I know you are lying, brother," He said quietly, "I know they will never come back."

The whites of the hospital morphed into the black chaos of the accident night.

I knew where this was going.

If I stopped the car....

"Ares, turn on the volume bro, seriously, you behave like a 200 year old."

"Leave him be. Liam."

Why couldn't I talk?

Panicking, I pressed the break, trying to stop the car.

It wasn't stopping.

I turned around, looking at dad and Liam smiling at me.

I shouldn't have taken the steering that day. I shouldn't have.

It was my fault.

Glaring light flashed in my vision as I saw a truck coming from the opposite direction.

"No..." I whispered.

This couldn't happen, not again.

Ares...

"Ares!"

"Ares!"

My eyes flew open as I gasped, my lungs constricting. My body was stilled, cold sweat formed all over my body, A breeze of cool air caressed my bare skin.

"Ares, are you okay?" A soft murmur filled my senses as I became aware of my surroundings.

The rain probably stopped a long time ago, the sound of night loud in my ears.

And the smell of cocoa, rum and her. That intoxication.

She was in my room.

My hand acted on it's own, I grabbed the mask and placed it over my face.

"W-Water.." I stuttered, feeling my throat clogging up even more.

"Okay," She responded as I heard some fumbling, she poured a glass of water, grabbed my hand and placed it in.

I didn't miss the way my skin tingled at her touch.

I gulped it down, feeling the cool liquid travel down, calming the inner fire within me.

"Why are you in my room?" I asked as I breathed heavily, placing down the glass.

"You were screaming, I heard it so I ran here."

"You will not enter my room under any circumstances. Understood?"

"But-"

"Otherwise, this time, you will be fired for sure, Ms. Campbell."

"Mr. Estevan-"

"I do not wish to prolong this unwanted-"

I felt her frail arms engulfing me in a tight hug.

For a moment, I was shocked, stiff. Then slowly the realization dawned upon me.

She was hugging me.

I could feel it. The silk of her nightgown, the warm floral smell of her hair, the mixture of coco, rum and her sweat and arousal- it invaded my senses.

Blood rushed through my body as I felt my senses heightening. My nether regions throbbed from the contact as I took a deep breath.

She was a small little thing against me. A shiver ran down me, I breathed in her scent. Her soft skin was pressed firmly against mine.

Dear god.

Her breasts were pressed up against my bare chest, separated only by the flimsy material of her night dress. Her arms hugging me as if her life depended on it.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, soothing. It bothered me.

I let out a small sigh at the concern in her voice, it was, as if she was truly concerned if I was okay or not.

Her warm, heavy breaths fanned the nape of my neck, her lips touching the skin.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before tearing her away from me.

"What are you doing?" I growled.

"I heard that hugging can increase the dopamine level, dopamine is the major factor behind happiness so I figured hugging you will help you come out of your nightmares," She answered.

Was she fucking serious?

"Get out," I stated coldly.

"But Mr. Estevan-"

"You don't know of your actions, you aren't aware of the consequences you actions might bring," I slowly inched towards her, listening to her steady but heavy breathing come to a halt.

I ached for her, throbbed for her and it wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Do not do things that might cause you harm. I am pardoning you for the last time. I am feeling