Page 37 of The Haunting of William Thorn

Night and day seemed to blend into one at Hanbury Manor.

Even though William knew he’d slept through most of the day, seeing the dark evening sky beyond the window only added to his discomfort – like building blocks, one atop of the other, forging a wall around him that was beginning to be hard to even look over.

The continuous smashing sound behind him didn’t help, but watching Edward vault his shoulder into the attic door in hopes of knocking it down certainly eased his anxiety a little.

Edward’s attempt didn’t work, but that didn’t mean he was giving up anytime soon.

A trait that William wasn’t all too familiar with in men.

There was something so different to Edward than anyone else he’d ever met.

In other circumstances it would’ve been pleasant to get to know someone like him – until he remembered what happened to those he trusted.

What dark omen he’d brought into Archie’s life.

William fixated on all the differences between Edward and Archie to curb his budding remorse conjured by his treacherous inner thoughts.

At least this way, he’d remind himself of their opposites, making those kindling feelings inside him fade back to a simmer – which turned out to be impossible as William watched Edward literally kick down a door.

Muscles strained, face frozen in a grunt of strain and concentration; Edward was a man possessed as he fought with the inanimate object.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” William shouted over the noise, wincing every time Edward donkey-kicked the attic door. Already, a hole had been worn into the middle; the old frames even began to come away at the wall. “No good us both having bruised ankles to end the day on.”

Panting, Edward paused momentarily, long enough to catch his breath. “Is that concern I hear in your voice?”

A single bead of sweat ran down the side of Edward’s temple, falling along the path of his well-carved-out jawline.

William was so focused on the droplets journey that his reply came after a broken moment of silence.

“No, I just don’t think my house insurance will cover this type of damage, let alone the personal liability if you break a bone or something. ”

“Oh, I see. You’re more concerned with the broken door than me,” Edward replied with a wink. “Got it.”

“Broken door, cracked wall, and God knows whatever unseen damage you are causing… we could do the sensible thing and look for some tools.”

And by sensible thing, William meant that Edward could do what Archie would’ve done in this situation, slowly working at a problem like a puzzle, using all means but brute force to reach a goal.

Then again, even William couldn’t pretend it wasn’t rather exhilarating to watch a full-grown man wrestle with a door.

Especially one who was coated in muscle.

Another stark contrast William focused on.

“Well, if you want to help, you could always go and look for said tools, Will. Or you can stand there, looking pretty as you watch me. The choice is yours.”

Heat blossomed in William’s cheeks. Point taken. “Actually, I’m finding watching you battle that door rather enjoyable. It’s likely the most fun I’ve had in days.”

“I’m glad to be of service,” Edward smirked. “Now, unless you’ve got nothing else pressing to add, can I get back to smashing down this door?”

“Go ahead,” William said with a wave of a hand. “Knock yourself out, just not literally, as I’ve said, no personal liability.”

As the bashing of muscle against the door began again, William pocketed another difference in his mind.

Archie never really smirked – actually, he never really smiled much in the last years of their relationship.

In hindsight, William knew his fiancé was unhappy, which was what likely drove him into the arse of another man.

However, as his own therapist had said, ‘it’s not your job to please a partner who doesn’t even know how to please himself’, aka, ‘you’re not responsible for anyone’s emotions but yourself’.

Turned out all Edward needed to get through the door was a little encouragement because a few kicks later, one colossal crack in the plasterboard, and it came away with the ease of butter over a flame. Breathless and clearly proud of himself, Edward stood back to marvel at his work.

“Ta-da,” he exhaled, shoulders shrugging with each deep inhale. “From now on I only will respond to being called Hulk, or He-Man.”

His sarcasm went right over William’s head. As he faced the dark gaping mouth of the attic, the reality of what they’d done finally settled in. Whatever secrets had been locked behind that closed door had no choice to hide anyone.

“If that’s the case, after you, He-Hulk.”

“He-Man,” Edward corrected.

William waved him off. “Whatever.”

William couldn’t shake the memory of the crying he’d heard from inside the attic.

He could put it down to tiredness, delusion, the slipping of his sanity, but it still haunted him – literally.

And yet, as he lifted his phone, turned on the torch and held it afloat in the dark room, he expected to see something other than the dark.

A single bulb flickered to life after Edward snaked his hand in the attic and pulled on a frayed string.

Thin, old wires clung to the walls like vines, a messy show of electrics that had been put in well after the attic was built.

The amber glow did nothing to evict the heavy darkness from the room, but it helped.

A little. That said, William didn’t lower his phone’s torch.

In some sense, he felt as though he held a shield, protecting him from the sinister aura that weighed down the air.

The first thing William noticed was the smell. Air thick with dust and age clogged the back of his throat, lathering his tongue. Even Edward began to clear his throat, lifting the collar of his russet knitted jumper over his nose and mouth to stifle it.

But that wasn’t all that he noticed. Something else lingered beneath the mundane scent of old age and forgotten life.

Something rancid. Heavy and rotting, like old shit left to fester.

Rats, he told himself. If it wasn’t the rodents leaving their mark, William couldn’t place what else it could be, nor did he want to.

“Looks like a hoarder’s paradise,” Edward chimed in as he led the way into the attic. “Who knew a person could have so many belongings.”

It was on the tip of William’s tongue to tell Edward that he’d changed his mind. There was still time to turn back. Instead, he followed cautiously, at a distance, constantly aware of the exit in relation to where he was in case he needed to escape quickly.

“It’s an attic. What did you expect?” William replied, carefully stepping around a mountain of moth-eaten boxes.

“You won’t like the answer to that question.” Edward shadow-boxed his way through a terrifyingly human-shaped sheet that turned out to be draped over a coat stand. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, making William’s heart almost leap from his throat.

His boot kicked something, sending it skittering across the floor. William followed the object with the beam of his phone to find a crucifix, ladened with age, resting face down on the floorboards.

“Creepy,” Edward said, brows knitted together. “If you ask me to move it, think again. I’m not touching it.”

“Just be more careful,” William jeered. Believer or not, he wasn’t about to go pissing off Jesus if He was listening. “I know you change your career aspirations, but booting religious items is really not going to end well.”

“No more kicking Jesus, got it.” Edward lifted both hands in surrender, his ever-present grin plastered across his mouth. “You know you could be sitting on a goldmine up here.”

“One man’s goldmine is another man’s possessed item. If we come across a doll up here, I’m out.”

Edward stepped along the man-made path through the life of the previous owners. “I’m with you on that. I draw the line at dolls.”

“But not assaulting Jesus himself?”

Edward winced. “Yes, sorry about that Big-J.”

On that pursed, ducking beneath low beams, and swatting away far-too large spiderwebs.

“The fact that so much of another person’s belongings have been left for you to root through and sort. This would be most first-time buyers’ nightmares, but I think it’s a big treasure hunt.”

William knew what Edward was doing. It was obvious.

He was attempting to distract William from his inner thoughts, the treacherous ones that made him shake.

Whereas Edward continued on, William found himself coming to a stop.

He couldn’t stop focusing on the yawning dark corners of the attic, and what else lurked in them.

Spiders, rats… sad dead men who’d killed themselves in–

Stop. Breathe.

He felt like someone was watching and likely hiding behind the many mountains of boxes and chests, ready to jump out and reveal themselves.

At least it would prove that all the happenings were not of the supernatural.

Then again, he wasn’t sure what was worse.

An enemy you could see, or one he could pretend to ignore until they grew bored and disappeared.

“Okay, now that really is a little unsettling. More so than the idea of dolls.”

William snapped his gaze to where Edward was standing.

Just shy of his shoulder was a window completely coated in grime.

Cobwebs clung to the frame, giving it the impression of a stained-glass window, one you’d find in a church – beautifully designed and intricate.

But that wasn’t what Edward was speaking about.

He balanced a large frame in his hand. It’d been leaned against an old kitchen chair, the painting facing away from them both. That was until Edward carefully turned it for William to see.

“Oh, my God,” William gaped, his gaze fixed on the large painted face now staring daggers through him. “Is that…”