Page 85 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Now

Sparrow’s admission didn’t come as a surprise. I had my doubts. I tried pulling away to get a look at him, but his arms tightened around me.

“They hadn’t done anything especially cruel to cause their deaths; it just took someone braver than me to get it done. She saved him.”

“The Good One,” I breathed. She knew more than she should have, and her knowledge felt firsthand. She also seemed more than capable.

“I’ll cut ya to pieces!”

Sparrow nodded. “My father had been working on something in the basement for a while. I’d hear him hammering away. Sometimes it felt like the earth was shaking.”

“What was he working on?”

Sparrow squeezed me tighter, our hearts pounding against each other. “Elliott’s grave.”

This time he let me inch away. “I-I thought you said they hadn’t done anything especially cruel?”

He shook his head. “Don’t you understand? Death would’ve been a mercy. I was so tired by then.”

I nodded, resting my forehead against his. “Did something happen to push them to that extreme?” I almost wanted to take the question back because it seemed to minimize all that had happened before somehow. Everything they’d done to them had been extreme.

Sparrow’s words ghosted over my lips. “They’d found out my mother was pregnant weeks before. They’d been happy. God had found them deserving again. Turns out my father had been rebuilding his following, so the pregnancy couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“They’d now be seen as fruitful,” I said.

“They lost the baby.”

My insides coiled as I waited to hear what happened next.

“They were smiling when they came for him in the middle of the night.” He said it as if seeing his parents smile was a rare occurrence. “They told him they’d found a way out for him, a way they could all be free. I felt his happiness in that memory once I took over.”

Elliott yearned for love, safety, and kindness. Even from the people who’d hurt him the most. His happiness in that moment didn’t stem from being na?ve. I knew this to my core. It came from hope, which meant they hadn’t completely broken him.

“My mother held his hand as she led him to his death.” Sparrow fisted my shirt, and it took everything in me to listen without rage-filled commentary.

“His fear didn’t come on gradually. It was a shock to our already fraying system when I came to the front.”

“What did you see?” I braced myself for his answer.

“Our coffin.”

I kept my tirade in my head, giving myself the freedom to rage internally for all they’d been through. My voice was even when I asked, “Can you tell me what happened next?” Because maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he’d gone as far as he could.

“My mother prayed while my father and I struggled. I couldn’t hold on. The shifts were out of my control, and every time I came back, we were closer to the wooden box. I had no memory of the seconds that passed. I could feel the others, but I couldn’t see anything.”

Something I said to Sparrow once came to mind.

“You don’t have his memories. Maybe you used to, but at some point that ended, didn’t it?”

“Joshua came to the front, didn’t he?” I filtered through my own memories for something Joshua said to me. I’d asked him about his parents.

“They’re in the basement,” he’d whispered . “I don’t like it down there.”

“Not for long. I-I didn’t leave him unprotected for long. I swear, I—”

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’d never judge you.”

“I focused hard on keeping him and Elliott away after that, but it was hard to focus on them and staying alive. My father had spread tarp around the area to contain the mess…”

“The mess?”

“The blood,” he explained.

“I don’t get it. Did they not plan on burying you alive?”

“My father planned on enacting the Sacrificial Rights,” he rasped, and I realized we hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet.

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

Sparrow pulled back just enough for me to meet his crippling stare.

“If the sacrifice is made using the Holy Blade, the birth soul is freed through the releasing of lifeblood, trapping the spirit of evil inside the vessel upon death of the flesh. My mother shouted the ritual prayers while my father attempted to slit our throat.”

“Oh, Sparrow.” I cradled his face in my hands. I didn’t know what else to say or do; nothing felt sufficient.

“I managed to knock him down and race up the stairs. He caught me at the end of the hall. We fought for control of the blade while my mother continued to pray. I lost time again. The bloodied blade was in my hand when I returned, and my mother’s shrill screams drowned out the sound of my father choking on his own blood. ”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned when he averted his stare. “Don’t you dare feel shame. That monster got what he deserved.”

Sparrow glanced at me in surprise. “I’m not ashamed that he was killed, that they were both killed. It wasn’t me. I couldn’t do it. I… didn’t want to.”

“There’s no shame in that either, Sparrow.”

Gratitude filled his gaze. “She’s here often now, but that day was the first time she’d come through. I could feel her. More rage than fear. I let her have control until it was over.”

“She cut them to pieces,” I said.

Sparrow nodded. “I took what was left of them downstairs, then started the task of cleaning up. I’d gotten all but where the incident took place spotless.

I was so weak by then,” he sighed, his eyelids drooping.

“I had just enough energy left to shower and get Elliott as far from here as possible. But… not before leaving him a note.”

“I asked if you’d ever communicated with him before.”

“Did you ever think about communicating with him? Leaving him a note, maybe?”

“You said no.”

“I never expected to get this far with you,” Sparrow confessed.

“What did the note say?”

“Tell them nothing.”

“He listened.” I tried not to feel bitter about that.

“It wasn’t meant for you,” he whispered, brushing his nose against mine. “I was scared for him. I didn’t know if anything would be used against him to prove he had something to do with what happened. I had no experience with the world. I didn’t know what it would do to him until I came back.”

I led him over to the fire, running my hands up and down his arms, but it seemed the trembling wasn’t from the cold.

“I… need to go down there.” He sounded afraid.

“They can’t hurt you anymore, and anyone else who wanted to try would have to get through me first.” I couldn’t help but touch his sad smile. “We go together.” Because I’d never let him face this alone.

We traveled down the long, cold hall leading to the basement door. The images from my online search flashed before me, transporting me to the actual scene. Blood streaked down the walls, and chunks of body tissue squashed beneath my feet.

Sparrow reached for the ring of keys at his waist once we got to the door, pausing to stare at them.

“Were those his keys?”

“Yes. I’d buried them in the woods, close to the road. The last place I recall being before waking up in your home. I promised I’d be brave from then on. That I’d do whatever it took to protect Elliott and the others.” He touched the scar above my brow. “The sins of the father,” he mused.

“I told you—”

“I know,” he said. “I know.” He was nothing like his parents, but even if there were any similarities, Sparrow had been justified.

He unlocked the door, frigid air hitting us as soon as it opened. We linked hands before heading down.

I wasn’t sure what I expected to see once we got into the basement. The bits and pieces of Elijah and Sara’s remains dangling from the ceiling, I supposed. The large, open space was dank and decayed, as Sparrow once described it, and empty. I winced when his hold on my hand turned painful.

“Sparrow?” I followed his line of sight to the brick wall on the other side. Sparrow couldn’t tear his gaze away from it. He let my hand go, and took careful steps forward with me right behind him.

Sparrow felt along the wall, his movements becoming more urgent as the seconds passed by. “It’s here somewhere,” he muttered, fingers searching top to bottom.

“Are you saying they’re behind the wall?” I didn’t see how that was possible. I grew nervous. Was he having another loss of control? Had all of this pushed him over the edge? Just then, I heard a faint clicking sound, and a portion of the wall pulled away.

Sparrow pulled the hidden door open but didn’t step inside.

I directed the beam of my phone’s flashlight into the dark space.

A bucket and piles of cloth, stained a rusty brown, rested in a corner.

In the center, chunks of broken concrete were piled on top of a hole. Elijah and Sara’s burial ground.

“They’re still gone,” Sparrow breathed. “They’re still dead. They can’t hurt us.” It wasn’t that he hadn’t been sure, he just hadn’t let go yet, hadn’t relinquished the pain they’d caused him. His body vibrated as he fought to hold back his tears.

“Go ahead and let it out,” I whispered, stepping in close. “Let go. Lay your sword and armor down.”

Sparrow wept in my arms, and I held on to him, murmuring words of encouragement.

He wept for all the times he couldn’t, for all the times he didn’t feel safe to.

He wept for the times he gritted his teeth through the pain, when he dared to bear more, dared to shoulder the burden for my husband and the others.

We were both physically and emotionally drained when it was over.

“I’m so tired,” Sparrow said, his eyes puffy and red.

“Come on. I’ll lie down with you.” I closed the hidden door before taking his hand and heading upstairs. He pulled us to a stop near the foyer. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced toward the living room. “Can we open our gifts?”

I chuckled, happy that maybe his first holiday hadn’t been ruined after all. “Sure, mine are already upstairs. Let’s grab yours.”

We sat across from each other on Sparrow’s bed, each holding our gifts. “You first,” he said.