Unnerved by the severity of Leyla's panic, Korbin glanced around again in search of the source of her fear. He found nothing but cobwebs, rotting wood, peeling paint, and a door without a knob. Without any hint as to what had happened he turned his full attention back to her. "It's alright, there's nothing there," he murmured soothingly. But even as he spoke he knew that couldn't be true. Leyla would not be in this state if there was nothing there, and neither would doors shut on their own, or would flowers that should be decades old remain alive and healthy. For now, however, Leyla was his concern. He tightened his embrace as she pressed her face against his neck. Her tears were likely going to ruin his dark blue button-down shirt, perhaps the black vest he wore over it. But despite the price tag that had been attached to the clothing, it was the least of his concern.
Though he had never excelled at comforting, Korbin's softer side came out now. He stroked Leyla's hair gently and spoke soft words of comfort in an even, steady tone. Then she interrupted his calm by warning him not to look through the hole in the door. He furrowed his brow, confused. If what had frightened her was behind the door, why had it not come through at her? The only answer he could think of was that its objective had been purely to frighten her. If that was the case, it was surely something with a bark worse than its bite, so to speak. Why else would it resort to such scare tactics?
"There's nothing in there that can hurt you," he insisted as she pulled away and dried her tears. Logic dictated that he could talk her into a state of calm, that he didn't need to demonstrate. But just as he had been unable to bring himself to touch the flowers, an unseen force compelled him to approach the door, to brace his hands against the dusty, splintered wood, and to peer into the hole.
It took several moments for his eyes to focus. When they did, the first thing he noticed was his younger sister. Seemingly out of nowhere, his two brothers came forward out of the darkness to stand next to her. The image was quite convincing -- perfect, in fact. Fyora's dark-furred Sneasel, Razor, was perched on her shoulder, glaring at everything and everyone. Darin and Esthin stood next to each other, exchanging playful punches that soon turned into a spat, accompanied by insults to one another. Just as Fyora told them to calm down before she set Razor upon them, a tall, muscular figure charged out of oblivion, launching itself at Darin. It seized him by the throat with its left hand and began to punch him repeatedly in the face with the other. Korbin immediately began to struggle with the door, to force it open. Something was hurting his little brother, and after it got through with him it would surely go after the other two, none of them were safe…
…and then the figure turned so that he could see its face, and his blood ran cold. He was staring into his own eyes, except that they were wide with madness, fury, and exhilaration. His hair was sticking up wildly in all directions, and blood from Darin's ruined nose and split lips splashed his face. Darin cowered on the floor, whimpering and pleading. The sound drove Korbin mad. He began to shove his shoulder into the door and push with every ounce of strength he possessed. As much as he knew he would be able to push harder if his eyes were not focused on the hole, he could not tear himself away. He could hear a low moaning sound that after a moment, he realized was coming from him. As pathetic as he knew it was, he couldn't stop.
The apparitions of Fyora and Esthin rushed at the other Korbin. Esthin grabbed his right arm, and Fyora his left. With a roar he pushed them both away and seized Esthin by the hair. Korbin's assault on Esthin then began. He struck him repeatedly in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. That brought him to the perfect level for Korbin to slam his face into his knee. Esthin fell, gasping and coughing up flecks of blood. The image of Korbin turned his attention to Fyora. The real Korbin's eyes widened and his struggles grew more frantic, though this time to pull away. Fyora was his baby sister, and he had always felt a need to protect her beyond that which he did with his brothers. He already knew that this was not, could not be, real. But all the same he felt a hysterical panic at the prospect of being forced to watch the scene unfolding before him.
The Korbin behind the door raised a hand and Korbin cringed, a scream building in his throat. His counterpart paused, then withdrew a gun from his belt. Korbin cried out in earnest now, pushing against the door violently. Fyora looked up at the image of Korbin with wide eyes, tears rolling down her face.
"Big brother, what did I do?" she asked in a small voice, reminiscent of when she was young and he would deny her the privilege of entering his room. Korbin behind the door laughed coldly and raised the gun, pointed it between her eyes…
Just as the gunshot rang out Korbin wrenched himself away and backed himself against the wall, his hair falling in his face. This was just as well; it helped to hide the tears in his eyes. His breath came in rapid, uneven gasps and his skin was stark white. There was a pounding in his ears that could be identified as the sound of his own galloping heartbeat.
"N-nothing that can hurt you," he repeated, his voice cracking and unsteady. No, there was nothing in that room that could cause him or anyone else harm; the monster was outside the door, backed against a wall by his own fear. It had taken him twenty years to get his temper under control. When he failed to keep hold of himself, he changed. The reasonable, controlled, stoic man he was disappeared, replaced by a ravaging monster with no regard for who became the target of his wrath. His greatest fear had always been that he would lose control and hurt someone he loved, and the people who meant the most to him were his siblings, particularly his sister.
Now, he relived the waking nightmare: how he had come home angry one night when he was seventeen. How he had shoved Fyora out of the way when she tried to get in his path and calm him. How her arm had been twisted by the impact, nearly dislocating her shoulder. And how Darin, fiercely protective of his twin sister just as Korbin himself was, had confronted him with a fist to his face. The affair had ended with a broken nose, two black eyes, and a broken rib on Darin's part, and a demon he would never live down for Korbin. The scene behind the door had been a reenactment of that night; bloodier with more victims, but a reenactment all the same. The thought that occurred to him, if he had not brought himself under control that night it could have turned out much the same way as the scene behind the door. The prospect caused him to break out in shivers as hot tears stung his eyes. Dimly, he was aware that he appeared pathetic to the eyes of others. But he was far too shaken to care. A strangled sob tore out of his throat, which he caught quickly. He would not cry, especially not in front of Leyla. He straightened up and cleared his throat.
"My apologies," he said hoarsely. "My reaction was more dramatic than the situation entailed."
Despite the façade of regained control, however, inside he was trembling, begging for the release of unrestrained tears. No matter how much he fought, the urge would not go away. He clenched his fists and looked down at the floor, his breath still hitching from his attempts to keep his emotions out of sight.
