The Fabric of our Souls

We drive slowly down the alleyway. Police lights are flashing and an officer is taking photos of something at the base of the cement stairs leading to the lookout.

Lanston shares an uneasy look with me.

We were at the coffee shop for a little over an hour. I’m tired and just want to lie in bed and mope. One look at Lanston tells me he feels the same way.

The officer waves at us to stop.

“We got a phone call from a man asking to meet him here. Have you two seen anything unusual?”

My heart sinks when I catch sight of blood at the base of the stairs. The only trouble this town has seen has been at the hands of Crosby. Call it whatever you want, but I know it in my bones.

Liam.

Lanston speaks up from behind me when I don’t say anything. “No, we haven’t. But we’ll keep an eye out.” The officer nods and returns to the lower step, where the blood is.

I turn in my seat. “Lanston, I think Liam was here.”

He keeps his eyes forward as he parks and unbuckles his seatbelt. The circles under his eyes make my heart ache.

“I know you want to believe that, Wynn. But I don’t think so. He’s… dead.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Lanston frowns like he’s sorry to say such a cruel thing, but I know he’s weary. Tired of having a thing as silly as hope.

He gets out of the car and heads inside. I remain sitting for several minutes before deciding to pursue the inkling I have pulling in the back of my mind.

“Sorry, Lanston,” I mutter to myself as I navigate over the center console and into the driver’s seat. I start the engine and take off down the road to the lookout. He really needs to stop leaving his keys in the car; we’re not in Harlow anymore.

The parking lot is empty.

I park the car and get out, listening, but it’s silent. The only sounds are those of the wind and crisp leaves blowing around on the ground.

I knew it was stupid to look into this. Lanston knew it too. But I can’t give up… not until I’m sure he’s really gone. I won’t give up.

Deep breaths. I inhale and exhale slowly.

A flash of color catches my attention.

I look at the ground closer and see a drop of blood, still wet and glistening in the cold air, not yet frozen.

My surprised breath curls in the air and hope pulses through me. I’m hesitant to call out Liam’s name. If it is him, he’s bleeding and running from something.

From someone.

A gunshot pops off and I don’t think. I thoughtlessly run toward the sound.

It was muffled with distance, so I know he’s close enough but I can’t decipher where.

Another shot goes off, closer. I run straight into the forest beyond the parking lot. It’s inclined, and after about twenty paces up, an expansive golden field stretches out as far as I can see.

Two bloodied people are struggling over a gun.

“Liam!” I scream and run toward the two men.

I know it’s irrational. I know I should call for help. If I were in a rational state of mind, maybe I would do that and risk Liam dying.

But I’m not rational right now.

I’m blindly in love, and each second I waste means his life on the line.

Both men snap their heads toward me and Liam’s beautiful face comes into view. His eyes are fearful and he’s bleeding. He’s yelling at me to turn around and run.

But he’s alive.

He’s not covered in those indescribable burns or in the morgue with a tag around his big toe. He’s breathing and screaming and looking at me.

He’s here. And so is Crosby.

I don’t hear anything except the pounding of my heart as I tackle Crosby to the ground. He’s as tall as Liam and I register it quickly as he throws me off of him easily and pins me to the ground.

His eyes are ruthless and filled with malice. He pulls his gun and aims it at me.

I’ve never stared at the end of a muzzle before. It’s paralyzing—your brain doesn’t know if it should beg or scream. So I do neither and look past the muzzle, locking eyes with Crosby.

His stare hollows my soul. He murdered everyone at Harlow Sanctum, potentially those before us too.

Liam stands behind Crosby, a rock the size of my head in his hand. He cries out as he brings the rock down. Everything slows, like a movie, except I’m watching from the worst seat in the theater.

The rock cracks against Crosby’s skull so hard that the sound reverberates in my chest, so loud my ears hurt.

I watch Crosby’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he falls to his side. Liam crawls to me, groaning painfully with each breath. He collapses next to me and tears stream down his face.

“I thought… I’d never… never s-see you again,” I rasp. I flinch and knit my brows at the deep, harrowing pain that throbs in my chest. Something’s wrong.

Why am I wet? It’s warm.

Liam’s eyes are calm and reassuring. He presses his hand down on my chest and it hurts. I try to squirm beneath the weight he’s administering there but he holds firm.

“I love you, Wynn. I’m so sorry—sorry for everything.” He coughs and blood coats his shoulder from the spray.

My eyes widen; he’s hurt worse than I thought. “Liam—ahh, it… it hurts.” It’s getting colder.

“Listen to me, Wynn. You need to stay awake, baby. Can you do that for me?”

“Huh?” I mutter. It’s becoming hard to focus. I’m dizzy and cold. “I’m so c-cold, Liam. Why… am I s-so cold?”

I’m so tired and… it hurts. I’m hurt.

“It hurts,” I cry.

“Shhh… It’s okay, Wynn. We’re okay. I love you so much—please hold on. It’s okay, baby. We’re going to make it. All three of us are going to make it. You, me, and Lanston, remember? I promise nothing’s going to happen. I love you—”