Page 25 of The Bleeding Woods

Joey is safe—that is something of which I am completely certain.

Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for myself, as keeping the Lovecroft sisters from ripping each other to shreds is a task I’ve been left alone with.

Jade kept her wrath to a bare minimum around Joey for his sake.

If the fight she had with Clara this morning signals anything, it’s that her restraint has run out.

Clara . . . I’m so worried about Clara.

She’s making less and less sense as the hours tick by.

I wish I could save her from all that she sees, but in this arena, I am helpless.

I can practically hear my mother roaring in my ears, “Grayson Oliver Warner, you will not be helpless, because you cannot be helpless.” Still, despite her enduring commands, I feel two feet tall as I guide Clara and Jade southward.

This far into Blackstone Forest, the road has been ravaged by overgrowth.

Other than the weeds stubbornly crawling across the asphalt, it is untouched.

It’s as though the entire landscape has forgotten humans exist. It’s a self-contained apocalypse situated centuries ahead of the moment from whence we came.

At least, it feels that way. If we had traveled to the future somehow, life would be a whole lot easier.

I wouldn’t have to face my mother and explain the succession of events that led to Joey’s solo side quest. I wouldn’t have to admit that I’d taken my eyes off him during a situation so dire.

“Sleep isn’t for the weak, but in some cases, it’s for the irresponsible,” she’ll say, and I’ll concede because she’s right. I shouldn’t have gone to sleep. Terrible things happen when I fall asleep.

The night my father died, I was asleep. For three years, he battled leukemia, and for three years, I held his hand through every test, trial, and treatment.

He’d say to me, “Grayson, please, go and get some rest. Your mother’s had you running around for hours.

” He wasn’t a man apt to exaggerate. Mom had kept me busy, very busy.

He was in staunch disapproval of it. When the two of them divorced, he did everything in his power to maintain custody, but she earned more than him, and he was already so sick by the time they sat down in court.

It was a cold December night. Joey wasn’t old enough to understand how bad things had gotten, nor how bad they were about to become.

I stayed up reading to him, trying to ward off panic spirals with science fiction and superheroes.

Mom had agreed to give me some time off, and she was supposed to drive me to the hospital, but .

. . I’d fallen asleep. I’d slipped into dreams of spaceships in flight as Dad’s heart monitor flattened to a straight line.

I’d been with him from diagnosis to final days, but his last moments on this horrible planet were spent alone in a sterile white room. Mom wasn’t with him; she was too busy. She’s always too busy. Maybe that’s why she keeps me busy.

“I’m glad you weren’t there,” I imagine Dad would’ve said. “I’m grateful you finally got that rest.”

If only he could see me now. I rested and lost him; I rested and lost Joey. Only, in this case, I’m unquestionably sure that Joey is alive. He has to be. Keeping people alive and intact is my duty. It’s been my duty since the day Dad left. Hell, it’s been my duty since the day I was born.

I hate long walks. More specifically, I hate long walks in silence, because long walks in silence prompt my brain to compose symphonies I’d rather not hear. With each step, suppressed thoughts gurgle to the surface like seafoam. My conflicting memories smell like rotten fish washed ashore.

“We need you now more than ever, Grayson,” Mom said. “I know it’s difficult, but you’re strong. That’s why it has to be you.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I replied, barely fifteen at the time. She’d spent a long time preparing me for the duties suited to a Warner, but I never could have anticipated how heavy they’d become after Dad’s death.

“Of course you can,” she insisted, raking a row of French-tipped fingernails through my hair, identical to my father’s hair. A constant reminder of him. “You’re ready for this. You’re ready for anything. What do we say when we need to remind ourselves of that?”

“I will not be helpless, because I cannot be helpless,” I droned. “Action is the only option.”

“Exactly. With your father gone, there is much for us to do, much action for us to take. I need you. Your brother needs you. He loves you so much, Grayson—more than you could ever imagine. Without you, his whole world falls apart. Do you understand?”

I nodded, because I did understand, and in my understanding, she mined for obedience by the ounce.

“Good.” Silence, lethal silence. When my mother finally spoke again, she said exactly what I feared she’d say.

“The Lovecroft sisters must be kept at arm’s length.

I know that you care about them, but you cannot afford distractions.

Jade will never be the companion you hope for her to be, and what you’re feeling for Clara is completely out of the question.

Let go of all that you dream of with her.

There’s no time for friends, and certainly no time for romance. ”

I was so embarrassed. For a moment, I felt like a normal preteen, blushing because my mother was privy to my schoolboy crush. But I wasn’t a normal anything. With Dad gone, I’d never be normal again.

“I need you here, Grayson.” She poked the center of my forehead. “I need you focused. You have a duty to fulfill. A duty to me, a duty to your brother, and a duty to the world, even though your father is no longer in it.”

“What if it’s too much for me?” I whimpered, a pathetic sign of unconscionable weakness.

“It is not too much for you, because it cannot be too much for you.” She brought her stiletto tips from my hairline to my jaw, suddenly too stern to rebut. “Repeat it.”

“It’s not too much for me, because it cannot be too much for me.”

“Again.”

It’s not too much for me, because it cannot be too much for me.

I have a duty to fulfill, and I will fulfill it.

Clara stumbles over a ridge in the road.

My hands reach for her reflexively because catching her has become a reflex.

Not a duty, but a reflex. Against every one of Mom’s wishes, it comes easily to me.

Thoughts of her are sweeter than the ones that reek of alcohol wipes, hospital hallways, and the couch catercornered in Joey’s old bedroom.

They’re sweeter than every obligation assigned to the great Grayson Oliver Warner.

Clara regains her balance. She doesn’t need me; I shouldn’t want her to need me.

I shouldn’t want her at all. Defiantly close as we’ve become, she is still off-limits.

It’s been made exceedingly clear by Jade, my mother, and incomprehensible forces beyond our control.

We aren’t designed for a love story. It’s not in either of our natures.

It’s nice playing prince for her sometimes, though.

It feels good to forget what we really are to one another and just lose ourselves in infinity.

If I had a hand on the wheel of my future, I’d steer toward somewhere quiet and safe, and I’d offer her the passenger seat.

She’s terrifying in her own way, it’s true—but there is light in Clara Lovecroft, and I’m honored I get to see it.

Jade sends her an ornery scowl. It’s incredible how easily people forget what’s important in the present while shackled to the past. I could have blamed Joey for what happened in December all those years ago.

I could have hated him with every fiber of my being, losing my father and my brother in the same breath.

Even if it was partly his fault I’d been so tired that night, I couldn’t live with double the loss.

Jade’s done nothing but celebrate loss. However, as much as I disagree with her coping mechanisms, she is a hemisphere of planet Lovecroft, and thus—a noble satellite—I orbit.

It’s stupid of me and forbidden to me, but I care about them both.

Despite the whims of my mother, the wishes of my father, and the whirlwind of a life I’ve been dropped into, I am human.

Humans care. Humans stay up all night with their ailing parents.

Humans do everything they can to make their siblings smile.

Humans worry, and worry, and worry for their friends.

They obey their mother’s demands no matter how outlandish.

They read another page, then another, then another.

They step, step, step through futile situations and forests without end.

We do it—I do it—because in a world where it’s too easy to go numb, pain with purpose is the new ecstasy.

Jade is my pain. Clara is my purpose. So I keep pace with them both. I keep caring for them both. I keep caring in general. Convenient as it would be, Grayson Warner is not going to be what would suit others most.

At least, not now.

At least, not yet.