Page 47 of The Haunting of William Thorn

It was like William had been devoured by the vacuum of space and time. The world – no, the universe pressed down on him, swallowing him. All sharp teeth and lashing tongues, until there was only silence interrupted by the beat of his heart caught in his ears.

“Archie?” William spoke aloud, although it sounded like he was deep beneath oppressive water.

Edward had stopped shouting. The glass had settled.

All the while, William couldn’t tear his eyes from the board as the impossible name rang out in his mind.

Taunting him, it was as if his mind screamed the name.

Over and over, building in volume and deepening in tone, until the voice in his head belonged to someone who should never have had the ability to speak.

No one replied. For a beat, it was as if nothing had happened and the glass had never moved – never spelled out that name.

But then it moved again, awoken and sentient.

William didn’t bother to try and keep his finger on it.

Edward was too stunned to move. They simply allowed the glass to slither across the board where it came to a stop over the word: Hello .

With his eyes still glued to the glass, William scrambled back on his arms until the hard press of a wall stopped him. His heart thundered in his chest so terrible that his eardrums rattled, and his lungs ached. No matter how frantic his inhales were, his body rejected the air.

He was suffocating from the reality before him.

“Close. The. Board,” Edward forced out, his command meant for William, who was just out of his line of sight. “ Now .”

William didn’t act. He didn’t so much as speak. The only noise he made was the rasped and broken sobs that seemed to crack out of his chest. In a way, he didn’t want to stop this from happening.

“William, do it… I beg you.” Edward looked up to his companion, thinking nothing else could be as horrifying as what had just happened. He was wrong. As William’s eyes trailed from the board up to where Edward sat, he saw something that turned his blood to ice.

A figure was standing just behind Edward.

Where the chair had been was now blocked by clear outline of a body.

Even if William wanted to look up more and see the figure’s face, his eyes refused him.

All he could do was see the glistening wet material of a red coat skimming the shins of two grey legs.

Mangled skin ruined from gravel, blood running from gashes and vicious cuts…

“No,” William choked. “No, no.”

Even at the distance, he could make out every droplet of rainwater that ran down the coat’s shining material. It gave the impression that it was bleeding too, soaking down the figure’s dark trousers and the floor beneath where he stood.

Edward hadn’t moved a muscle. He looked to William, concern and pain pinched into every line across his face. It seemed that William’s reaction was enough to snap him out of his strange spell of panic. And yet he didn’t know what loomed behind him, impossibly tall, impossibly real.

Edward didn’t see the mottled and bruised hand reach slowly down towards his shoulder – but William did. He witnessed everything.

Fuelled by sheer unbridled panic, William scrambled back to the board and slapped the glass from the word it rested on. The glass bounced into the side of the room, disappearing beyond boxes. The smash sounded, and yet the figure was still there, reaching down, ready to touch Edward, to claim him.

“Leave him alone,” William screamed, fear becoming anger.

Spittle flew out of his lips. His hands balled to fists as the violent urge to protect Edward overcame him.

This was fight – the mode he never found himself drawn to.

And yet, seeing the horror become such a threat, he knew he had to act.

So William drew up the board, a side in each hand, and ripped it in half.

Edward sprang to life, shouting for William to stop.

But he couldn’t – he wouldn’t. The folding seam tore, the most beautiful sound he’d heard in the world.

When William looked back to Edward, it was to find the chair behind him once again. The figure in Archie’s red coat had faded back into the shadows, severed with the tearing of cardboard.

It worked. It had to have worked. Please, say it worked.

“What are you doing?” Edward snapped, eyes wide as he took in the two pieces of the once whole board.

Exactly what you asked me to do . “He was… it was behind you.”

Edward didn’t hear William, or maybe he had but something was stopping him from taking it in.

Instead, Edward clutched the board to his chest, cradling it, grieving over something with meaning.

“To close the board, yes! Not destroy it. We didn’t close the board, William.

” The use of his full name stung like the crack of a whip against bare flesh. “You always must close the board.”

“What does it matter?” William shouted back. “This fucking house was riddled with sinister spirits before you ever got the fucking board out. And it worked, hasn’t it? It– whatever that was – is gone.”

Edward shook his head, eyes scanning the attic as if he didn’t believe a word from William’s mouth.

The truth was William didn’t believe it either.

But he’d rather face the unseen than experience that again.

Seeing that entity, dressed like Archie – pretending to be Archie – all to taunt him. That was hell.

“I was protecting you,” William said before Edward could continue his tirade about how bad his actions had been. “It was behind you, Edward. I saw it… it was going to touch you. I wouldn’t let it touch you…”

His last admission came out weak.

This time, Edward caught just how hard William had been hit by the experience. They locked eyes, and the connection was electric. His eyes widened, mouth drawing into a flat line. The colour of his lips broke apart as Edward dug a tooth into the pillowy flesh.

“Who did you see?” he finally asked the question, the one thing that William couldn’t fathom a reply.

There was no hiding from the question though. No running from it. Because as much as William wished to make excuses up, try and explain the hidden meanings or reasonings behind what the entity had shown, he couldn’t. His only option was facts. So he answered simply.

“It was wearing Archie’s missing coat.”

Of all the reactions William expected from Edward, sadness wasn’t one of them. Then he backtracked on his previous argument, laying the ruined board on the floor as though it no longer mattered. “Then you did the right thing.”

“I did?”

Edward stood quickly, the ground swaying beneath him. “We should leave.”

“The attic?”

Edward’s expression scared William more than any promise of ghosts or hauntings. “No, Hanbury. We should leave now. Together. No good is going to come from staying here a moment longer.”

“But it’s getting dark out. Even if we can make it into Stonewell, there’s no saying we can even call for a taxi.”

Edward was shaking his head, the action going more frantic by every passing second. “I don’t care. We have to go, we have to–”

It took a moment for William to work out why Edward had stopped talking.

Beneath his heavy breathing and cantering heart, he heard something too – a scratching sound reminiscent of what he’d heard during his dream last night.

Except this noise wasn’t coming from a door, like nails scored into the wood.

It was coming from beside them. Hidden beyond the wall of boxes, from the direction the glass had smashed.

And the sound was getting louder and louder, hysterical and rushed.

William clapped hands over his ears, wishing to block it out. But it was as if the sound refused the world’s natural laws because it only grew louder. The sensation worked over William’s skin to the point that he wanted to undress himself right there.

It was never going to stop. That was what William believed, deep down. Edward must’ve felt it too, because he kicked his way through the boxes, knocking them over and spilling contents across the floor as he worked towards the noise to stop it.

Then, the torturous noise ceased on its own, as suddenly as it started.

Slowly, William lowered his hands. Edward had just stood over something in the dark corner of the attic. His neck bowed as he looked down at it.

“What is it?” William braved.

Edward didn’t respond. He didn’t move. William pushed to standing, legs weak and trembling. Perhaps the suddenness he rose with sent his head spinning, so much so that he clutched the wall just to steady himself.

Edward was before him when he opened his eyes, faking a smile. “It’s nothing.”

William didn’t believe him, but his headache and knees were nearly buckling. Even if he wanted to push past Edward to see what had entranced him, he couldn’t.

“You look pale, Will.”

Pain, more of it, split the back of his head. He wanted to lift a hand and touch the spot, to check if his skin had parted and his skull was exposed, but even moving his heavy arm seemed impossible. “I don’t feel good.”

Genuine concern sang across every aspect of Edward’s face. He wrapped an arm around William’s side and guided him out of the attic without saying another word. Each step was hard to take, but William focused on putting one foot before the other, relieved that Edward was there to support him.

“You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?” Edward asked, and every ounce of panic had disappeared from his voice.

William knew what he was suggesting and had the feeling he was right. “I didn’t. Stupid of me, I know.”

“Then you need to lay down. I will sort you something to eat, and then we can talk about the next steps.”

“About leaving?”

Fuck Hanbury, fuck his hopes and wishes for a future. He got the impression that if he stayed here a moment longer, he wouldn’t have one. And he’d only just come to terms with the desire that he did really want a life beyond these seven, hellish days.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” William added when Edward refused to speak.

“Neither do I, Will. But you’re in no fit state to walk anywhere, are you?”

Edward was right – more than right, actually. William could barely walk down the stairs, and he had no hope of reaching Stonewell. “No.”

They got back to the bedroom they shared where Edward helped William into the bed. He admitted to himself that laying down certainly helped the swaying that overcame him. The world seemed to settle the moment his head hit the pillow. It was hard to keep his eyes open.

“What time is it?” William managed, aware that the light beyond the window was dull. He couldn’t tell if it was the weather or the time of day.

“Late enough that you could call this sleep a nap,” Edward replied. With careful hands, he tucked William in, wrapping him in the thick duvet, swaddling him in the protection of silk and feathers. “I’ll wake you when some food is ready.”

A thought niggled at the back of William’s mind. Edward had been so persistent not to leave William’s side when he slept, but now he was speaking like he had other plans than to stay with him. For fear of sounding pathetic, William bit down on his tongue, stopping the plea from leaving him.

“All right?” Edward opened the conversation of consent to what he’d just suggested.

William fought to keep his eyes open. Before he gave in to this exhaustion, he loosened his tongue and exposed his weakness. “Don’t leave me yet. At least not until I’m asleep. Please .”

The bed shifted as Edward sat beside him. A soft hand laid upon his warm forehead, brushing the strands of sticky hair away with languid brushes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

If William had the energy to say it, he would’ve told Edward not to mention dreams. He didn’t wish to have any.

Not like those he’d suffered with the last time he slept.

But before he could muster the words – form them in his mouth and speak them into existence – the darkness waiting in the corner of his mind swallowed him whole.

He half expected Archie to be waiting for him in the dark, but what was there turned out to be worse.

William Thorn was truly alone.

Edward did as he promised and waited until William’s breathing evened. He wanted to stay and comfort him, but there was no telling how long he’d sleep for, and there was something he had to do.

He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.

The door clicked shut and Edward waited, ear pressed to it, just to ensure William hadn’t woken up.

Once he was confident he wouldn’t be followed, Edward moved back to the stairs.

Not to go down to the kitchen, not yet. He walked back up, entered the attic and found the spot on the floor that had captured his attention earlier.

Besides the shattered glass, which coated the floor like shards of deadly snow, he looked down upon the words carved into the wood.

Edward’s dark truth was spelled out on the floor in jagged, harsh lines.

He had to remove the evidence. He had to do something to conceal what had been etched into the wood by the glass.

Edward gathered up the largest shard he could find and began gouging each demand the spirit left for him, from the wood by making deeper grooves.

Lost to his desperate madness, Edward worked continuously, all without noticing how the shard was slowly cutting into his palm.

There was no pain, not as his anxiety devoured it.

The gentle trickle of blood over his knuckles laid a path that would lead William to the truth, like Hansel and Gretel’s trail of crumbs.

He had only one desire: to keep the truth to himself.

At least for a few more days. If William found out, everything he’d come to Hanbury to achieve would be for nothing.

Except, that knowing hurt him now. More so than the glass severing his soft palms. Deep down, Edward wanted to be ready to face it – to tear down the walls he put up between himself and William.

Expose everything. But one thing was still, Edward Jones was far too weak of a man for the truth to come out.

It would hurt him, yes. But the truth would destroy William. And for that, he would need to hide it.

The spirit, however, had other plans.

Just when he thought it was over, the taunting scratching sound began again.