In the dead of the night, he would awaken screaming at the top of his lungs - choking on the emptiness, the utter desolation in what was left of his soul.
Instinctively, he would reach for his other, wanting the soft comforting darkness to wrap around his mind, that low smooth voice to whisper reassurance to him - finding anew the void his darkness had left.
He would cry then, bitter, heaving sobs that neither his grandfather nor his mother could soothe.
Sometimes he wondered what the afterlife was like.
Other times -
- he knew.