The Fabric of our Souls

Wynn sits at Lanston’s bedside, holding his hand and waiting for him to wake up.

They had to put a few stitches in my thigh and the pain is already throbbing through down to my bones. I deserve it; it scratches the itch and makes looking at my traumatized friends less heart-wrenching. This is my fault… I look down at my phone with heavy eyes. Three missed text messages from Mom, the same three messages she always sends.

I pull up a chair next to Wynn.

She doesn’t look at me as she whispers, “What does Crosby want? No more secrets, Liam. No more lies.”

I slouch back in the uncomfortable chair and run my finger over a small scratch on her neck. She flinches and looks at me with distrust flickering across her eyes. Somehow that hurts worse than the machete cutting through my leg.

“Liam.” She stares at me coldly, clearly not wanting anything but words.

Words I don’t seem to have.

“Wynn… I can’t.”

She stands from her chair, pointing at the door and saying in an icy, hushed tone, “Then get the fuck out.”

Lanston stirs, groaning and lifting his hand to his head slowly.

“Wynn? Oh, thank God, you’re okay.” He smiles as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, sobbing as he murmurs softly that he’s okay.

“Why did you stay behind? We could’ve made it out together.” Her voice cracks and guilt sets in deeper inside me with each tear that falls from her chin.

Lanston holds her tightly. “No, I don’t think we could’ve.” She sits back on the edge of the bed as he wipes away her tears. “Can you give me and Liam a few minutes, Wynn?” he asks her softly.

She glances at me hesitantly before nodding. Lanston waits until the door clicks shut behind her before speaking again.

“I thought Crosby was gone.”

I lean forward in my chair and duck my head, rubbing the back of it and staring at the floor.

“He never left. He never will.”

Lanston sits up, wincing. “What do you mean?”

I thread my fingers together and look up at him. “He has a grudge against me that long precedes my time at Harlow… but I’m worried he’s set his eyes on someone else now—” My stomach curls at the thought of Crosby’s cold hands curling around Wynn’s throat.

“No. Not her.”

I nod, not knowing what else I could possibly say.

“We need to file a police report. We’re not safe anymore.” Lanston throws off his blanket and tries to get out of the bed. His legs give out and I catch him before he falls. His hazel eyes are filled with anguish and it hurts to see him so afraid.

This is my fault. This is all my fault.

“I already did. I told them everything.” I set him back in the bed.

Lanston’s eyes search mine warily. “Did they catch him?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.” Can a monster like him even be caught? I seriously doubt it.

There’s no hope for me, but Wynn can get away with Lanston. As long as they are away from me, Crosby won’t follow them. He only wants them because they’re close, because they mean something to me.

They can be happy.

They can live on without me.

“I’ll take care of him when he comes back… I’m sure he’ll be here again in a few weeks.” I lower my eyes, thinking of how I’ll kill the man who’s haunted me for such a long time.

Lanston’s face pales. “Has he been coming back often?”

“Yeah.” I keep my eyes on the floor. “Like clockwork. I never thought he’d hurt you two though… I know what I have to do now. I want you to promise you’ll take care of Wynn.”

Lanston’s eyes widen and he fists the sheets. “No. She’s in love with you, Liam. The three of us can get out of this. Let’s just leave; he won’t be able to find us.”

I shake my head. “He’ll know. He always finds me.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes before muttering, “I told her about Crosby.”

My head snaps up in fury. “You didn’t.”

His hazel eyes are hard with resolve. “I did.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re so close and I’ve refused to tell her myself. Surely things have been odd enough for her to seek answers elsewhere.

Crosby.

Lanston is as far in the dark as she is. That’s where they need to stay.

“Thanks for saving me back there.” Lanston cautiously touches the wound on his head. The pain medication has probably taken most of his agony away, but I grab his hand and stop him from exploring too much of the damage. He was hit with a fucking machete, he’s lucky his skull wasn’t cracked clean open.

“I should’ve killed him,” I mumble mindlessly, staring at the bloodied bandages wrapped around Lanston’s head. The wound starts at his forehead and ends at the back of his skull. I don’t have the heart to tell him that they had to shave part of his head in order to stitch him back up.

I make a mental note to stop at the gift shop later and get him a new hat.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t… that I couldn’t.” My hands tremble against my legs. Why couldn’t I force myself to do it? I had him… I could’ve.

“Who is he to you exactly? No more secrets, Liam. No more lies.” Lanston sets his hand on top of mine and my heart aches with the kindness he’s always shown me when I don’t deserve it.

“He’s my brother.”