Page 84 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Now

Sparrow ransacked the room for the key, leaving me standing in the rubble.

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

I’d given him an ultimatum—leave with me or be left behind—without considering how I’d get out if he didn’t choose the former. At least he hadn’t locked me inside the bedroom again.

I spent the next four nights searching for him, hoping he’d have a change of heart. He was likely hiding out in one of the other rooms, but without the key, I couldn’t check.

I sat on the bed holding my Christmas gifts, thinking about how I’d ruined Sparrow’s first holiday. I couldn’t bring myself to open them. Not without him.

Screw it. I charged from the bedroom, deciding to search downstairs for him one more time before banging down the other bedroom doors.

My stomach dropped when I reached the foyer and spotted my backpack on the table. The devices and chargers were all inside. I considered rushing back to the bedroom, but couldn’t shake the need to check the front door.

I crept over, pulling on the handle. My breath whooshed out of me when it creaked open.

Glancing at the staircase, I wondered if the smart move would’ve been to leave before Sparrow changed his mind. My feet wouldn’t take me across the threshold, though. I shut the door with a curse, racing back to the bedroom.

I cracked my knuckles while my phone charged enough to power on, then punched in the number I knew by heart. Octavia answered on the first ring.

“Hi… It’s Miguel. Can—”

She cut me off, saying the same thing she said every time I called.

“I know, but please, can you just—” I didn’t get to finish my plea. Octavia apologized before hanging up.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

I plugged the laptop in next, pacing until the screen came to life. I perched on the edge of the bed, connecting to my hotspot. My fingers flew over the keyboard, typing my first question into the browser’s search engine.

What happened to Elijah and Sara Holland?

A news outlet link with the headline: House of Horrors popped up.

I leaned in, mouth agape as I read on: The bodies of the cult leader, Elijah Holland, and his wife, Sara Holland, were absent from the crime scene; however, evidence suggested foul play.

Their underage son was discovered in the woods in a near-catatonic state with no memory of what happened.

It was clear to the authorities that he’d suffered great abuse at the hands of his parents.

After what some called a less-than-thorough investigation, Elijah and Sara were presumed dead.

I checked out a few other sites, but the information was more or less the same. None of them listed Elliott by name.

I clicked on search images next, recoiling at the gruesome photos of blood-stained walls and human viscera trailing the floors. I quickly exited out of that screen.

I’d briefly read up on the subject of DID on my way to Alaska, but without having met Sparrow—or even knowing about the others—I didn’t know what to research specifically on the disorder or even what applied to Elliott’s case. With the knowledge I had now, I typed in a new search.

Can new alters emerge while the host is dormant?

There was a lot of information on the subject of dissociative identity disorder, most of it going over my head. The simple answer was yes . New alters could be created in response to trauma or stress, regardless of the host’s current state. That explained Abraham.

What happens when the gatekeeper becomes exhausted (DID)?

I read through the pages of text, comparing the data to several other sites.

In summary, their answers were similar: increased switching, loss of control, system disorganization…

The list went on. What would happen if the pressure became too much for Sparrow, like it did before?

What would The Good One do if she got free?

Would Joshua get lost? Would he even know how to get outside?

What type of havoc would Abraham unleash before being contained?

Can a dormant host reemerge on their own (DID)?

There were tons of differing opinions on this, too many medical articles and forums with conflicting information to count.

Yes…

No…

Maybe…

The decision is often determined by the gatekeeper…

No…

Possibly…

Yes….

Depends…

Gatekeeper….

Perhaps…

Gatekeeper…

Gatekeeper…

Gatekeeper…

“Arrgggh” I slammed the laptop shut with force, regretting it instantly. I released an audible breath when the device came to life again. I typed in one final question.

Can alters permanently merge with the host (DID)?

I closed the laptop on the answer I already knew. I wallowed in my sadness for a while before packing my things.

I found Sparrow staring out the bay window in the reading room. He turned at my silent approach.

“Hey,” I said, but he didn’t answer. “Where have you been?”

His gaze traveled from the backpack slung over my shoulder to the duffel bag I carried. I set both bags down, stepping into the room.

“I wanted to say goodbye and to say it’s not too late to change your mind.” Please, come with me. I kept a good distance between us, even though it killed me. “I haven’t requested a rideshare yet, so I have plenty of time to wait for you.” Still nothing.

“I also wanted to finish telling you our story. I owe you that.” Had he given up on learning the truth from me?

Had he already looked into what happened using whatever device he kept tabs on the weather with?

Somehow, I knew he hadn’t. Maybe because I didn’t want to believe he could be so indifferent toward me if that were the case.

Still, I hesitated when he continued to stare. Was this typical Sparrow behavior, or was he experiencing a loss of control? A system disorganization? Would providing the details of that night send him over the edge?

“Go on,” he said as though sensing my internal debate. His tone was cold, yet warm in its familiarity. I breathed through the fluttering in my stomach, preparing to relive the worst night of my life.

“We’d had our commitment ceremony earlier that day. Just the three of us.” I spun my replacement wedding band with my thumb. I’d slipped it onto my finger upstairs.

“We were on our way to the airport. Quentin had a photoshoot and a charity event to attend. We were supposed to take the wedding gifts we’d gotten each other with us, but we were running late and forgot them in the foyer.

We’d also been in too much of a rush to notice the car parked at the end of the street.

” In that neighborhood, it should’ve stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Elliott wanted to go back for the gifts. He seemed excited about the one he’d gotten me.” I glanced toward the entryway, remembering my mother’s restored jewelry box. I’d need to get it from Joshua’s room, if Sparrow allowed me to.

“It was hard to deny him anything, but on that day it was impossible. We were just too happy.”

Sparrow didn’t so much as blink.

“We turned back, waiting in the car while Elliott ran inside. He was only going into the foyer. It shouldn’t have taken him long.

Quentin beeped the horn after a few minutes, but Elliott didn’t come out.

I think we both sensed something was wrong at the same time.

” I could still hear Quentin’s worried voice in my head.

“Did you activate the alarm?”

“Yeah,” I’d said, both of us looking into the back seat where Elliott had left his phone.

“Elliott’s battery was dead, as usual. He couldn’t have deactivated the alarm before rushing inside.

It should have gone off the moment he walked through the door, but it didn’t.

” I looked around helplessly. “I didn’t activate it.

I was supposed to activate the alarm.” The cameras were down, but had I turned on the alarm, we would’ve received an alert the moment the two men entered.

“Elliott was already being held at gunpoint by the time we hurried through the front door, blood seeping down the side of his face.” I wasn’t close enough to see the resulting scar along Sparrow’s hairline, but knowing it was there increased the ache in my heart.

“There was so much blood,” I whispered. “You think you know fear until the people you love are in danger. The sound of Quentin’s horn must have alerted the guy upstairs.

He was clearing the bottom landing, gun trained on us.

” I cleared my throat, wondering if Sparrow knew how much I needed a hug or words of compassion, wondering if he cared.

“Elliott tried to run to us, but the guy holding him yanked him back by his hair, pressing the barrel of his gun against Elliott’s temple.

The gun trembled in his hand. Beside them, a ski mask lay on the floor.

Elliott must have struggled, managing to pull it off him.

The guy was practically a kid.” A scared kid, which made him even more dangerous.

“The second gunman yelled for Quentin and me to get on our knees. He held a black trash bag clearly stuffed with whatever items he’d stolen from upstairs. He pointed his gun toward Elliott, too, when we didn’t immediately obey his order.”

“On your fucking knees or he gets a bullet to the head!”

“Quentin wasn’t the type of man to kneel and beg for anyone besides me and Elliott, but he fell to his knees and pleaded for our lives.”

“Please let us go. We’ll give you whatever you want. We’ll leave like we never even saw you here.”

“I knew it wouldn’t work. We’d already seen one of their faces, but you’ll say anything when you’re desperate enough. The guy holding the bag took our wedding bands, then pointed the gun at me, ordering me to follow him upstairs.”

“You, come with me.”

“Quentin stood, trying to intervene.”

“Don’t you fucking move!”

“He turned the gun on Quentin. I could see it in his eyes. He would shoot Quentin if he had to. I begged Quentin to cooperate.”

“Quentin, please. It’s okay. I-I’ll be okay.”

“The kid holding Elliott had an arm banded around his neck now. Elliott could barely breathe. He was so scared.”

“Let him go,” Quentin had growled, his protective instincts overriding caution.

“Elliott was choking, and Quentin was going to make a move. The kid was so paranoid, he didn’t even realize he was strangling Elliott.”

“I said, let him go!”

“He loosened his hold but kept the gun at Elliott’s temple. Elliott coughed, and the other guy grew more impatient.”

“You, now! Let’s go!”

“I-I pushed to my feet, begging Quentin with my stare not to do anything stupid. He stepped forward anyway, and the guy with the bag cocked his gun. Quentin halted, and the guy gestured for him to get back on his knees. He told the kid to shoot Quentin in the kneecap if he got back up.” I perched on the arm of the couch, feeling unsteady, my voice a thin rasp.

Sparrow continued to listen but didn’t react.

“The man still wearing the mask shoved me into our bedroom closet. Clothes littered the floor, and all the glass cabinet doors were thrown open. Quentin’s watches, all the fine jewelry we’d given Elliott over the years… Everything was gone.”

“Open the safe!”

“There were all sorts of tools scattered about, too. He’d tried to get into the safe but couldn’t. I entered the combination for him, then waited with my hands raised while he loaded the cash into the bag.” I never understood why Quentin needed to keep that kind of cash in the house.

“My nerves were so fried as I stood there worrying about Quentin and Elliott. I just wanted to get back to them. We were finally on our way out of the bedroom, and I didn’t even care about the gun pressed between my shoulder blades.

Quentin and Elliott were all I could think about.

We were turning the corner leading to the stairs when life as I knew it came to an abrupt end. ”

BANG!

The phantom gunshot rattled my bones. I tried to contain my emotions. “I’ll never forget the sound of Elliott’s gut-wrenching cry.”

Sparrow didn’t look so apathetic now, and I wondered if I’d imagined his step closer.

“I didn’t give a damn about the gun at my back.

I ran to the foyer so fast I practically flew there.

My cry was a shriek of pure agony when I slipped in the pool of Quentin’s blood.

” I held a trembling hand in front of me as if I could still touch him, as if I could do something more to stop the bleeding.

“He was trying to say something to me but couldn’t. ”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here.”

“I t-tore my jacket off, pressing it against his abdomen, begging h-him to stay with me.” The two men argued while Elliott screamed Quentin’s name over and over again.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

“Y-you said to s-shoot him if he moved.”

“It was meant to scare him, you idiot! And that isn’t a kneecap!”

“W-what are we going to do?”

“Fuck! Let me think.”

“Quentin went pale, and Elliott stopped screaming. Both terrified me.” I remembered peering over my shoulder at Elliott. His face and clothes were bloodied, his gaze just as distant as Quentin’s.

“I begged them to call for help. Begged them not to let him die.” My pained voice grew shaky, the intensity of my emotions driving me to stand.

“Shut up and let me think!” The man in charge shouted at me.

“He ordered me away from Quentin’s body. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t leave him. I-I had to keep pressure on the wound. I was prepared to die before leaving him there, bleeding and all alone… But…” I couldn’t see or speak past my tears.

“But then they threatened Elliott again,” Sparrow said, his stare thawing.

I nodded, taking deep breaths before moving on. “They lined both of us up on our knees, made us face away from the front door. I reached over to hold Elliott’s icy hand. I… I whispered that I loved him.” When I reached my hand out this time, Sparrow took it.

“Their police scanner went off.”

“Shots reported on Birch and Glenwood, need all units available in the area.”

“Fuck! Let’s go!”

“I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the kid running outside, and the other guy raising his gun at us. I threw my body over Elliott’s. I remember falling, and I remember blood. It’s the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital room alone.”

Sparrow’s gaze was now as warm as his touch, and he pulled me into an embrace I desperately needed. I noticed the bandages I’d felt under his shirt days ago were gone, and he only seemed a little stiff now. Still, I was careful.

“You said you woke up with a gun in your hand,” I whispered against his neck.

“That was Quentin’s gun.” It was on the list of things found at the scene.

“Elliott would’ve had to go to our bedroom to get it.

The intruders would’ve been gone by then.

” Which meant he hadn’t retrieved it to use on them.

I could only assume what that meant. “Thank you for showing up when you did.”

Sparrow held me long after I stopped shaking, long after my tears dried up. Then he dropped a bombshell on me. “I didn’t do it,” he whispered. “I didn’t kill my parents.”