The Fabric of our Souls

A soft chime wakes me—Liam’s phone alarm.

He presses it quietly before sitting up in his bed. I squint my eyes so he won’t notice I’m awake.

He runs his hand down his face, looking so fucking tired. I’m tempted to ask what he’s doing but he stands and pulls a hoodie on, then his shoes, before he steps out of the room.

It’s just like my first night here.

The grotesque image of him walking in with mud and blood coating his shoes resurfaces in my mind and sends a shudder down my spine.

I’m not letting him hurt himself again.

I slip out of my bed and pull my hoodie on. There’s no time to find my tennis shoes, so I settle for my slippers.

The door creaks a little as I crack it open to peek out. The hall is dark and eerie. The exit sign at the end glows a sinister red.

I quietly slip out of our room and prop the door open with one of Liam’s shower flip-flops I find lying near the entrance. I take off down the hall in a hurry. I have to admit, I’m still surprised that they don’t lock us in our rooms at night.

I know James said this isn’t a psychiatric hospital and it’s unorthodox, but still, what kind of rehab just lets people do what they want at all hours of the night?

I suppose the same one that lets the patients fuck in the showers and spa room.

As I turn the corner, I catch a glimpse of Liam’s sweatshirt as the exterior door shuts behind him. He went through the side door, probably because a night guard stands at the main entrance, though I can’t imagine him stopping anyone from doing as they please.

The cold night air drifts over my exposed ankles as I push the door open. Everything in my being says that I should turn around and return to bed, but I know that I won’t be able to sleep knowing he could be hurting himself again.

He walks casually through the back fields and onward to the forest of maples behind the manor. Once he’s out of sight, I slink through the field after him. The grass is wet from all the rain we got today, but at least it’s not drizzling anymore. The air is crisp and bites at my skin. Leaves crunch beneath my feet.

I stop at the edge of the forest and glance back at the manor. The moon brims over some dark clouds, illuminating the building in pale, iridescent light. The red hue of the vines that climb the walls makes it look like a haunted mansion, sleeping in the dead of night and waiting for some fool to wander in.

A branch snaps and my head swings back toward the forest.

Liam’s standing in front of me with his arms crossed and a sleepy grin on his face. His dark hair is tousled, a few strands falling beautifully over his forehead. The dark circles beneath his eyes give away his restlessness, and the thought of him being as tortured inside as me breaks my heart.

“You’re trouble. You know that?”

My brows pull together in apology. “Well, I wasn’t planning on getting caught.”

He chuckles and a sense of calm falls over me. The corner of my lips pulls up with his alluring voice.

Liam extends his hand to me and jerks his head toward the forest. “Let’s go then.”

My eyes round as the moonlight illuminates his warm gaze. He’s like a perfect fairytale character. The kind of man that doesn’t exist—yet here he is, in a rehab for his mental illness. Stuck with me as his roommate.

I take his hand, the warmth quickly banishing the cold night air.

This is unlike him. He’s been unrelentingly kind lately.

“Where are we going?” I ask on a breath.

He tugs my hand and we walk into the forest of maples and pines, the last drops of rain dripping sporadically around us. A few tap on my head and I become conscious of how wet my slippers are. They’re destroyed at this point. I may as well have gone barefoot.

“You’ll see,” Liam mumbles. It’s darker under the canopy of the trees, but I can hear the smile in his tone. Is he happy that I followed him out here?

We walk in silence until we reach a clearing. I’m not sure how he knows where he’s going in the woods at night, but here we are. Dark grass sways in the evening breeze. The moon is covered by clouds, but one look tells me that the wind will soon push them out of the way. The scent of wet, fallen leaves and fresh rain envelops me.

“It’s just a field,” I murmur with confusion. Why come here at four a.m.?

Liam bends down and points as he says with a somber voice, “Look again, sunshine.”

That name rolls off his tongue so perfectly I can’t even pretend to be annoyed about it. My eyes return to the field, and just as they do, the moonlight showers down as if the pale light is liquid. A thousand little white blooms illuminate at once, returning the light back to the sky and the world around them.

My heart stills in my chest, a quiet, somber little thing in these wee hours of the night, desperately clinging to hope that the daylight steals away from me.

“Moonflowers,” Liam says with admiration. They mean something to him, and as much as he seems happy to gaze down on them, there’s melancholy imbued in his eyes.

“You didn’t need to show me this.” I feel bad. It really seems like something private. “I’m sorry for following you out here. I didn’t want to see you hurt again.”

Liam shrugs. A breeze shifts his hair to the left, and sorrow gleams in his eyes as he stares at the flowers. “It was never my own to share. Those before us… they made this place.”

Those before us.

“What happened to them?” I murmur, unsure if I should be asking. “Those before… did they get better and leave? Did they find the remedy for their minds?” I bend down and let my fingers trail the edge of the beautiful moonlit petals. They’re soft and still hold drops of blissful water from the rain.

“I hope they found their cures—I’d like to think that they got better,” he says as he moves to stand beside me. “Anyway, I stumbled across this place a few months ago. No one was taking care of it, so I figured those who did have long since moved on from Harlow Sanctum. Their absence from this place haunts me, yet at the same time gives me hope. Their rings are a symbol of perseverance.”

He turns and looks at me with weary eyes. I feel that soul-draining ebb, that exhausting pull, the never-ending search we seem to share for that silly little thing called hope.

To find our cure.

“Their rings?” I mumble in a daze.

Liam nods and plucks one of the moonflowers, placing it in my hand. “You asked me about the ring I left you at the hospital,” he mutters sincerely. I figured he didn’t hear me at the time because he was staring at my breasts and never replied.

I nod.

“I found three of them. I kept one, Lanston has the other, and then I decided you should have the last.”

My chest tightens at his admission, the moonflower warming in my palm as my heart beats faster.

“Why me?”

His eyes narrow with longing as he guides his forefinger up my wrist. A small wave of pain spreads across my forearm and he winces at the way I flinch. “You have this air about you. It calls to me like a beacon. The nurses spoke of how much pity they felt for the patient in room forty-seven, being so young and beautiful, but cursed with a horribly unwell mind.”

I clench my teeth. Everyone pities me, everyone except—

“I knew then I had to see you for myself. To see if you were indeed pitiful, though I had a feeling you wouldn’t be.” His blue eyes caress my face as if I’m a lost treasure he’s been searching the ends of the earth for. “No—I knew the moment I saw you. You were not to be pitied. Your mind is a beautiful and dangerous thing, Wynn, sick as it may be. But your soul illuminates the world around you, setting all else ablaze with your inevitable anguish.”

My clenched fist smothers the moonflower. My heart is both sinking and racing at the same time.

“I saw a young woman. A confused little flower trying to bloom in the daylight when you were always meant to thrive beneath the stars, unlike those around you. You’ve wilted enough for the world. Don’t you think?” Liam’s smile and question fill every part of my weary soul. “It’s time to let go of the things that hurt.”

He extends his hand to me once more. I slip the flower I inadvertently crushed into my pocket before taking his hand. He warms my cold skin as he guides me to the center of the flowering field.

“Will you dance with me, Wynn?”

In my drenched, cold slippers, my oversized hoodie, and messy bed hair, I smile at him—really, truly smile at him.

“Promise you’re not a vampire or werewolf?” I say as he pulls me closer to his chest.

His grin pulls up sarcastically. “And if I am?” He chuckles. Then his eyes turn serious. “I’ve been searching for that lost smile.”

I laugh as he wraps an arm around my waist and starts to twirl us through the field. It doesn’t take long to lose one of my slippers, but I don’t care. I don’t stop.

“Liam, thank you for being so weird.”

He laughs. “Is that a compli—”

“Coldfox! Waters!”

We come to an abrupt stop, our feet inches from one another as our heads snap toward the staff member calling our names. It’s too far to distinguish if it’s Jericho or not, but their flashlight tells us exactly where they are.

Liam takes my hand. “Run!” He laughs as we take to the darkness of the forest again. Nothing but the sounds of our feet crushing leaves and our heavy breaths fill the air.

“Where’s your slipper?” Liam’s eyes are trained on my one shoeless foot, laughing wildly at the way I’m running without it.

Fresh air and boisterous energy wash through me. “I lost a slipper during our dance.” I laugh between breaths. My cheeks hurt from the inability to lower my smile.

He shakes his head but keeps his grin, stopping us in the field that circles Harlow Sanctum and scooping me up into his arms like I’m weightless.

“What am I to do with you?” He wraps his arms around me tightly. I inhale his scent and hold on for dear life as he jogs the rest of the way to Harlow with me in his arms.

Jericho doesn’t look happy—not at all.

His frown is long and tired; he looks like he’s been up chasing two ghosts all night.

“Liam, you know better than anyone we highly advise against nightly excursions. Especially on weekdays.” The counselor taps his finger on the table.

“We were in the bathroom. I don’t know what excursions you’re talking about.” Liam shrugs, that damning smirk playing on his lips.

Jericho narrows his eyes as they shift from me to Liam and back to me. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Liam nudges me with his foot and I straighten in my chair and add: “We had the same fruit at dinner. It made us sick all night.” I wince as if my stomach is still hurting.

The counselor is silent as he considers us. Each minute is as painfully awkward as the last.

“Fine—you’re both lucky this is an expensive self-check-in facility.”

Liam crosses his arms, seeming a bit annoyed about all the fuss. “How’d you even know we weren’t in our room? It’s not like you check on us, and we aren’t on lockdown, so what’s the deal?”

My eyes widen—shit, the flip-flop I stuck in the door so I could go back in. I want to drop my head to the table but I remain sitting straight, biting my lower lip as I wait for Jericho to say it.

His green eyes flick over to me passively and he seems to catch onto my worry. “Just happened to see two people sneaking out and figured it was you. Your nightly outings aren’t uncommon, but that doesn’t mean you need to start dragging Miss Coldfox along with you.”

I silently exhale and thank Jericho with my eyes. He’s a good person. He probably already knows about the moonflower field and how patients sneak out to go there. I wonder how long he’s worked here… Maybe he knew them.

Those before us.