The Fabric of our Souls

Men.

They sure act tough, but the second they catch a cold or have to investigate a sinister dark basement for missing people, the charade is over—the cards are on the table.

Liam’s brows couldn’t be pulled closer together if he tried and Lanston looks like he’s about to have a fucking heart attack. Fear dances in their eyes and I find it more amusing than I should. They look like they are in physical pain from being down here.

“Do you even know what we’re looking for?” Lanston rubs his arms as the chill from the cement walls ebbs into us.

I pull out the note I made today.

What was Charlie doing in the basement? He acted weird for a few days before the three friends disappeared. Staff caught him sneaking out of his room one night.

“Honestly, we don’t have much to go on. I just want to make sure there’s nothing down here.” I know the police searched down here a decade ago, but if I know one thing from murder TV shows, it’s that the predator always returns to the site. I stuff the note back in my pocket and use my phone’s flashlight to look around. Liam steps closer to me, his chest pressing against my back and sending heat through me.

Our cuddle session on the couch earlier still lives rent-free in my mind.

“Well, let’s hurry up and get back so Jericho doesn’t notice we’re gone again,” Liam murmurs, lifting his own phone flashlight toward the closest corner of the basement. “It’s huge down here.”

I was expecting to find a cellar or something, but it’s enormous and oddly empty down here. Unlike my mom’s basement, which was stuffed with all our memories, this is just a cold and unused space.

“Where’s all the stuff?” Lanston grabs my hand reassuringly—I think more for himself, but I still grin.

Liam shudders. “I think it’s worse that there isn’t anything down here. Let’s hurry up.” He nudges me forward. His eyes flick down to Lanston’s hand secured around mine and he grimaces.

We walk the length of the basement and turn a few corners where the walls follow the structure of the main building above. When we round the last corner, our flashlights hit a damp cardboard structure. My blood chills at the sight. It looks like an old fort of some sort.

Lanston gasps and pulls back on my hand. “Okay, we’re leaving right fucking now.” He turns and tries to pull me with him.

I tug my arm back and shake my head. “I’ll be quick,” I say as I firm my trembling hands at my sides. His eyes widen, but he stiffens his posture and comes with me anyway.

Liam curses under his breath and follows. “Wynn, I think we need to call it. Let’s head back up.”

I ignore him as I inspect the boxes.

As best as I can without touching anything, I dip my head and phone into the fort. A nest of blankets and pillows is inside, dust long covering it, but this definitely used to be someone’s home. Was Charlie sneaking down here to meet whoever this was? Or is this Charlie’s fort? It doesn’t look ten years old… it’s fresher than that.

“Well, what do you see?” Liam tugs on my sleeve.

“It looks like someone was living here not long ago.” Before I back out, my eyes catch on something beneath the corner of the blanket. It’s the only thing in here without a layer of dust over it. I carefully pluck it out of the fort to inspect it beneath Liam’s flashlight beam.

“What’s that?” Lanston asks as the three of us huddle over it.

“A photo, I think.” It’s crumpled and fragile, so I’m careful when I unfold the edges. It’s a photo of four people. I flip it over and find names written lousily on the back.

Monica, Beverly, Charlie, Crosby.

Crosby.

The name on Liam’s laundry hamper, the roommate he refuses to talk about.

I flip it back to the faces, all smiling and aloof, Harlow Sanctum at their backs in the distance.

“Crosby?” I mumble as my attention shifts up to Liam. Lanston does the same, his mouth parted slightly like he’s stopping himself from saying something.

Liam’s eyes are wide, filled with horror and undiluted fear.

“Are you okay?” Goosebumps crawl up my arms at his tangible distress.

He seems to be in a trance of sorts for a few moments before he snaps back to reality, ripping the photo from my hand and throwing it back into the fort. His cold hand grips my wrist and then he’s pulling me out of the basement in a hurry. Lanston silently takes up the rear, frequently glancing behind us like someone may be watching.

“What’s wrong?” I ask breathlessly, panic already making my heart race. My stomach is in knots and my mind whirls with infinite questions, but one in particular. “Who the fuck is Crosby?”

I stare, worry tugging at my brows as Liam pokes his hashbrowns with his plastic fork. They don’t allow us metal ones here for obvious reasons. It’s fair enough.

He didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. My gut says Crosby is someone so malevolent that even Liam fears him. Whoever he is, he has Lanston scared too. He slept in our room last night. Liam wasn’t opposed to sharing his bed with our friend; he seemed more comforted by it than anything.

The absolute terror in his eyes last night made me sick. He left his lamp on and crawled into my bed at some point in the night. I woke with him trembling around me and sweat beading his forehead.

Crosby knew the missing people. He came back eventually, obviously—he was Liam’s roommate before me. So who the fuck is he? What aren’t they telling me?

I hardly slept last night, wondering, thinking, dreading the thought of the monster that slept in my bed just a month ago.

If Liam won’t tell me who Crosby is, Lanston will, even if I have to force it out of him. I scoop a bite of waffles drizzled in syrup into my mouth as I eye Lanston from across the table. He notices and takes a hesitant gulp of his coffee.

He knows we can’t just ignore what we found there.

We have morning yoga in the courtyard together today, so I’ll have to corner him and wring the information out of him.

Lanston waits for me to finish up my breakfast so we can walk to our session together. Things have been weird between the three of us this morning. No one wants to break the silence.

Even so, Lanston gives me a warm smile. It’s nice to have the friendly smile of someone as depressed as I am.

Unlike Liam, Lanston is the mirror image of me. We like all the same things and we both want to die. I wish he was around when I was in high school; we would’ve been best friends. Possibly even more. He’s handsome and thoughtful, someone I could talk to for hours and never feel out of place with.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to interrogate me.” Lanston wraps his arm around me. He’s tall enough that it rests perfectly across my shoulders. His pale-blue baseball cap is tipped up a bit and his soft brown hair kisses his forehead. The real killers are those beautiful hazel eyes of his.

I smile and shrug. “You know something.”

“How can you be so sure?” He pulls me in tighter and I can’t help but blush. His chest is warm and my hands instinctively wrap around him too. I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or just being friendly, but I’m not sure it matters.

Liam stares blankly at us from across the cafeteria and stands, walking back toward the dorm wing. When my eyes meet Lanston’s, I know he saw his friend’s empty eyes too. Pain and worry twist his lips with secrets he hasn’t told me.

We walk through the main foyer and out the back exit to the courtyard. The stones are dreary with age. Thankfully it’s dry since the rain finally stopped this morning. We have to use extra yoga mats to keep from getting wet. It’s not a huge inconvenience laying them out, but picking them up afterward is another story.

We each grab two mats and find a spot in the back of the class. The instructor is pretty chill. He knows we’re all a little off, so he never cares if we chat or even sleep during the sessions. “The point is to find your peace,” he says every single morning as if we’ll forget overnight.

If only I could find my peace.

Lanston sits down on his mat and stretches out on his back. I start by reaching for my toes and leaning forward until I feel the pressure in my thighs.

“Are you going to tell me?”

He raises a brow but keeps his eyes closed as the sun warms his gorgeous tan cheeks. “Tell you what?”

My jaw clenches. Why is he dancing around this, avoiding it like the plague? I can only assume that Liam’s made him swear not to tell. But they can’t keep me in the dark like this.

“Well… Liam refuses to talk about it.” I shift to lie on my stomach. Lanston opens an eye with interest as he waits for me to get to the point. “Who is Crosby?”

“Not here, Wynn.” His hazel eyes are stern. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “I said not here,” he snaps, his tone is sharp and deep.

My heart thumps erratically in my chest and my breath catches in my throat. “W-why?” What the fuck did this Crosby guy do?

Lanston’s forehead beads with sweat. His discomfort is contagious.

I harden my expression and lean in to whisper, “I need to know… You guys are scaring me.”

He glances around us to make sure no one’s looking our way. “Meet me in the greenhouse after dinner tomorrow night. We’ll talk about it then… and don’t tell Liam.” He seems upset and after staring at me like I’m some tragedy, he stands and picks up his yoga mats.

I watch Lanston walk up to Mr. Bartley, telling him something and handing in his mats before walking back to the manor.

The instructor raises a brow at me like I have answers, so I shrug and lie back on my foam mat, trying to salvage what’s left of my morning class.

I can’t shake the thought that Crosby is a dangerous person, someone that people here don’t want to speak about. I wonder if Yelina knows him too. She certainly seems to know about the missing people from a decade ago.

One thing is certain—I won’t be finding any peace this morning.