The salt is cleaned up. I starved August of life, refusing to let him traverse the thresholds of the house to feed outside. I also made living within the house as painful as possible. I realized that up until now I’ve felt too sorry for August to use the leverage I had. But lying in bed with rock salt cutting and stinging my skin, I decided enough is enough. August can get to his afterlife, but he chooses not to. I have to stop protecting him and protect myself instead.
Today I drew the Death card for August.
“Read it and weep,” I said. Maybe I was gloating.
“No. I won’t. I refuse to accept the new conditions to living in this hell hole.”
“Then leave, things are changing one way or another.” I stood, showing the card to him. He stepped back. His, usually twisted grin a cold, hard scowl. He opened his mouth to speak, but faded away instead. I won’t be playing his games anymore, I have my own to play now.
Doesn't Death typically just mean "change" (unless associated with the inverted Tower)?
Of course that's what's happening anyway...🤔
Resolution soon?