Page 24 of The Haunting of William Thorn

The pain hit him so suddenly that it nearly knocked William to his knees. He thought of Robert loving someone so much, only to lose them. Regardless of whether it was at war or by other means, it had driven Robert to his suicide, no doubt. And it was a pain that was all too familiar to William.

Something he’d experienced himself.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked, standing behind William, a strong hand laid on his shoulder. The touch was comforting, enough to help William focus.

William didn’t remember Edward moving. But he had, in a blink, honest concern creasing the skin between his brows. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

“Sit back down,” Edward said, guiding him into his chair. “Tell me about this journal. Can I read it? Maybe it will help give some answers to what really happened with my great-uncle?”

William nodded but feared that he’d spew sick across the table if he opened his mouth. He gathered himself, all whilst Edward studied him. It took a handful of deep breaths to steady the rocking in his stomach. “Of course you can.”

“Thanks.”

There was one more question that William felt the need to ask. “Do you know what happened to Robert Thomas?”

Edward blinked, but his expression was stoic. “I do.”

“He… killed himself, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

William felt the overwhelming urge to run. To run from the conversation, the manor, the secrets hiding in the dark corners. But he’d never outrun the secrets lurking inside of him. They were so knotted with this place that he would never get far from it.

“Part of me doesn’t want to know, but then another part of me does. Where… did he die?”

Edward seemed to ponder the question, his lips screwing closed as if the answer was too disgusting to say aloud.

In the end, he didn’t need to because the manor answered for him.

Not too far above them, floors beyond the kitchen they sat within, a bang cracked the stillness of the manor.

It carved it in. A cold rush of dread weighed William’s body down, so much so that he couldn’t move a muscle.

Although they hadn’t seen what made the noise, William’s mind painted a picture of a door smashing into a wall.

It was one of those sounds so familiar he didn’t need to question it.

A door had opened.

Edward made a move for the stairs. Before he got a step away, William clutched his wrist, sinking fingers into skin, anchoring himself to the man. “Please, don’t .”

Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t acknowledge it.

Edward looked between the doorway and to William, contemplating his choices. “If someone’s upstairs, I should go and see them out.”

The air reverberated with the bang of wood against brick. It took a few moments to settle, and the manor still seemed to tremble with the aftershock. All this talk of ghosts really had put William on edge.

“I want you to answer my question,” William demanded, refusing to break their line of sight. “Where did Robert Thomas take his life?”

Edward took a second to gaze behind him. When he faced William again, there was no denying the fear which seemed to cling to his hazel eyes, darkening them to pools of spilled ink. “The attic.”

Nothing was out of place within Hanbury Manor. William and Edward scoured every room, searching for doors opened when they shouldn’t have been.

At first, they found nothing out of place.

It was Edward who noticed strange marks carved into the doorframes first. It looked very much like a figure of eight scored from jagged lines. They’d been etched into every door frame, the place almost always the same.

Their search ended on the attic floor, only to find the door securely locked. Not open at all. William tried the handle three times, the cold metal almost burning his palm, only to give up when it didn’t open.

“I can’t say I’m not relived that the door’s still closed.” Respite came thick and fast but didn’t last long. “You heard it though, right? It wasn’t just me. I’m not going…”

William couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Oh, I heard it,” Edward answered, leaning over the banister and gazing down to the bottom floor. “Maybe it was a bird flying into the window or something. A big rat running about…”

Spiders and rats, William’s own personal evil. “Ghosts are one thing, but rats are another. If I see one, I’m out of here.”

Edward chuckled at that, the sound parting the heavy tension the banging sound had conjured.

Deep down, they both knew that rats or birds weren’t the cause of the bang, but then again, nothing else seemed to give them any answers. All William recognised was that he wanted to get as far away from the attic as humanly possible. Knowing what had happened inside of it made him feel sick.

Naturally, his frantic mind went back to last night when he saw the figure in his dreamless state, hanging mid-air behind the door he looked at now.

Outside the dirty window, the sky was darkening.

Dusk was upon them. And with it, the realisation that William had another night to survive in Hanbury.

There was no ignoring the sickening dread that clutched into his chest. It was so overwhelming that the request practically slipped out of his mouth before he could claw it back.

“Edward? I know this is stupid, and you don’t need to be the one to tell me. But… would you stay here tonight?”

Edward looked back, blinking as if he didn’t quite understand the question. “Are you sure?”

“I am. It doesn’t bring me joy to know you’ll be sleeping out in that gatehouse when you could choose from plenty of rooms here.” William took the chance to start back down the stairs, Edward chasing at his heel. “What harm is one more night?”

“I mean, I won’t refuse if you’re offering. I’ve never been one for camping, if I’m honest,” Edward said.

William admired his attempt to add humour to his words, but it felt lacking.

“For the record, I don’t think you sound stupid, William.”

“Go and collect your stuff then,” William said, stopping on the bottom step and turning back to face Edward behind him.

His neck ached as he was forced to look up.

Although he didn’t want to admit it aloud, he took comfort in knowing he wouldn’t be alone.

“I’ll get some food on the go, and then we can sit and go through Robert’s journal over some wine.

Maybe you’re right, and you’ll find something about Teddy that will help you get the answers you want.

If not, maybe it will at least help put this all to bed for you. ”

So you can move on, and so can I.

“I think you’ve got this all wrong. This isn’t about what I want.” Edward chewed his lower lip, rich eyes tracing every inch of William as he stood beneath him. “I’m doing this for my great-grandmother. She died never knowing what happened to her brother. And I promised her I’d uncover his story.”

A warmth uncoiled in the pit of William’s belly. “Reading between the lines, I get the impression you already have made your mind up as to what you think you’ll find here. But I want to hear you say it. What do you think happened to Teddy?”

Edward took a step down until there was only one more left between them. It was incredible, William thought, how Edward could smell so much like himself whilst still wearing William’s spare clothes. He inhaled deeply, noticing the citrus and spice that oozed from his skin.

“I think that Teddy Jones never left.”

“England?”

Edward shook his head, strands of dark hair falling over his serious-set gaze. “Hanbury. I don’t think Teddy ever left Hanbury.”