Page 52 of The Haunting of William Thorn

Hours passed, long and drawn out like an unrelenting winter.

William spent his time cleaning Edward’s hands, picking small bits of glass out of the nasty gashes that would need stitches.

He washed the wounds down with warm water and bandaged them with the torn strips of a white shirt he’d brought to Hanbury with him.

Satisfied with his work, he sat back on the floor beside the sofa, laid a gentle hand over Edward’s chest and found himself drifting.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but there was a rhythmic peace to Edward’s heartbeat which lulled him into a sense of safety.

It could’ve been minutes, perhaps hours more, but it seemed William could never quite fall deep enough.

Reality lingered too close to the edges of his mind.

Every sound, every rasped breath or stirring, had him bolting up.

It was the boom of thunder that finally woke Edward too.

The deafening boom shook the manor, snapping both men out of their slumbers.

Rain slapped against the backdoors, coating the glass in a thick film which made seeing beyond it impossible.

Smudges of dark clouds painted the sky, angry and vicious like the headache rumbling in William’s skull.

“Good… morning, is it?” Edward groaned, shifting carefully onto his haunches to push to a sitting position.

There was no ignoring the sharp hiss he emitted as he used his bandaged hands.

The pain reminded him of everything that had happened because Edward lifted his hands before him, turmoil creasing his sickly pale face.

“I wouldn’t call it good, nor would I call it morning,” William croaked, throat as dry as summer sands. “But you are awake, that’s what matters.”

Alive , his thoughts corrected what he wasn’t brave enough to speak aloud.

Edward’s scowl deepened as he gazed down at his useless hands. “I guess my hope that it was all a bad dream has just been thrown back in my face.”

William’s arse was numb, his spine aching from the slumped position he’d found himself sleeping on.

Regardless of the storm outside, he was hyperaware that his head had been resting on Edward’s thigh and was sure a hand had been laid on the back of his head – his messy hair certainly suggested as much.

“Unfortunately, not a dream,” William replied, jumping as another thunderclap crashed outside. “You were… wild, Edward. I didn’t know what to do… I was panicking and–”

Edward rested a pained hand on William’s frantic one. There were no words offered, just a soft look, and gentle silence. It was enough for William to catch himself. “I don’t hold anything against you.”

“How’s your head?” William asked, wincing at the thought of chipped skull, and ruined flesh.

Edward waggled his eyebrows, cautiously lifting his fingers to the sore spot. “Not bleeding, if that’s what you mean. Slight lump. Nothing life threatening. If I pretend it’s one monumental fresher’s weekend hangover, then I can cope.”

Guilt was William’s closest friend. At this point, it was practically a family member.

The reality of what he’d done to Edward yesterday hit him with the same force of a candle stick – penance for his actions.

The backs of his eyes stung so suddenly that William had to bite his lip to stop tears from releasing.

“I’m really sorry, Edward. You were mad and screaming, I didn’t know what else to do.

If I didn’t knock you out, you would’ve kept hurting yourself. ”

“Shh,” Edward rocked forward, resting two bandaged hands on either side of William’s face.

There was a sadness to the man’s expression, something that wet his brown eyes and widened them to blood-stained saucers.

“I don’t need you to apologise to me. Not now, not ever.

It’s wasted breath, I can promise you that. ”

William dropped his chin to his chest, but Edward was having none of it. With gentle guidance, he made it so William looked back up. Both men locked eyes, imprisoning one another with the intensity of the stare.

“I could have hurt you,” William said . Killed you.

“You did hurt me.” Edward winked, the right corner of his mouth lifting to a smirk.

But the desired effect didn’t work since he looked like he’d suffered.

“But something in me is telling myself to thank you for it. Anyway, it was only going to happen soon enough. Remember how you first met me, waving that poker around like a–”

“Does everything need to be one big joke to you? It’s not funny.”

“It was worth a try.” Edward’s smirk faded until there was no sign he’d ever shared one. “Don’t you dare punish yourself for this, William. I refuse your self-pity, okay? It’s not like I didn’t do some considerable damage last night either.”

“I thought I lost you.” A single beaded tear rolled down William’s cheek, soaking into Edward’s blood-stained bandages.

“Never.” Edward exhaled. “Okay?”

William shook his head, nodded and shook his head again. “The drawing room looks like a crime scene.”

“It does?” Edward said, gaze lingering elsewhere. He looked horribly pale, with heavy dark shadows beneath his eyes. “I don’t remember much to be honest.”

William could see the lie in his eyes’ diversion and the draw of his mouth. But he didn’t press. Clearly, last night’s events had affected Edward deeply, to the point that he’d lost himself. William didn’t want that to happen again; he worried he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

This was his fault, after all.

The room flashed as lightning sliced across the sky. They both looked towards the back doors as a strong gale rattled the glass in the old frame.

“Doesn’t look too good out there, does it?” Edward asked although the answer was clear. “Another storm to keep us stuck here. I’m beginning to think Hanbury doesn’t want us to leave.”

“But we must. Leave that is.” Now more than ever.

Every time William closed his eyes he saw the blood, the scratched words into the walls. He didn’t care if Hanbury won, he just wanted to get away before that chance was taken from him.

“You’re right.” Edward swallowed hard, the sound audible. “We do.”

William always believed he was the cursed one. That everyone unfortunate enough to be around him would end up six feet under – even Edward. William’s actions last night could’ve been terrible, and then the drawing room really would’ve been a crime scene.

“Do you… do you remember how you hurt them?” William whispered, taking Edward’s hands and holding them between each other.

It was strange to see a person close themselves off. Edward did just that. He withdrew his hands as though William’s touch was that of pure fire. He rested them on his lap whilst staring at the bookcase beyond William.

“No.”

Another lie.

Perhaps Edward required a prompt. “You were scratching the walls with broken glass, Edward,” William started.

“All of them. Up in the attic, down the stairs. Every god-dammed wall. You were rightfully scared, so I don’t blame you.

But that doesn’t mean I understand. Words were being etched into the walls by something unseen – you used the glass to…

scratch them away, like you were trying to hide them. ”

“Please, Will.” Edward snapped, making William recoil. He buried his face into his hands, breathing harshly and unevenly as his next words were muffled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That didn’t seem fair, but William found himself recoiling back into silence. Opting to change the conversation, William quickly told Edward all about Robert’s final journal entry. It was easier to talk about someone else’s issues than those William faced in his reality.

“So he was interrupted,” Edward said, chestnut eyes glazed as if he was physically here but mentally elsewhere. “Seems like only more mystery. But if Robert never got to read Teddy’s warning about the spiked tea, then maybe it was that day when they all drank it, and their plans never went ahead.”

It was all speculation because Teddy’s journal entries weren’t dated like Robert’s had been, but it felt right. “That still doesn’t answer what happened to your great-uncle, does it?”

Edward shrugged. “And do you know what, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Sometimes, secrets are better left buried. Clearly, Hanbury doesn’t want to let up on them, so why should we continue searching?”

“You’re going to give up, just like that?”

Edward’s sigh rivalled that groan of wild winds buffeting Hanbury’s walls. “I am.”

Whatever possessed Edward to scratch the walls, to harm himself without thought, had changed him. Scared him, rightfully so, but also took his motive, chewed it up into something unrecognisable and spat it out.

Every time it was mentioned, Edward retreated further and further away.

William felt more alone at that moment than he had before he’d arrived at Hanbury.

“I’m going to put my phone on charge in case the storm cuts the electrics again.

” If it cut, there was no way William was going back into the basement anytime soon.

Dream or not, what happened in that place repulsed him.

“Then we should think about leaving. You really need to see a doctor about your hands.”

“No.” Edward barely looked at him when he replied. “We should leave now. No waiting.”

Not wanting to engage further, William stood. His legs were numb, his back aching, but he persisted. Clearly, Edward needed some space. Maybe, now he’d fully woken, he was pissed at what William did to him last night.

“I really am sorry, Edward.” William paused at the door long enough to force the final attempt of an apology out. “I didn’t want to hurt you, trust me. But you really left me no choice.”

Edward slowly shifted his gaze until it met William’s again. It was the first time he’d acknowledged him since they spoke about Robert’s journal entry. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why do you wince every time you look at me?”

Edward allowed himself a moment to digest the question before replying. “Because I’ve hurt you and… and I don’t deserve your kindness.”

Something in Edward’s response turned William’s regret into anger.

“Unfortunately, you cannot make that decision on my behalf.”

Edward gasped like a fish out of water. “But I–”

“No,” William snapped, fist pressing into the wall, the ache of his knuckles against the plaster pleasurable.

“I don’t want to hear your reasonings, Edward.

I get it, okay. You regret coming here, and guess what, I’m regretting even showing you a lick of kindness.

I should’ve turned you away, made you walk back to town that first fucking day.

Don’t worry. But do you know what, in a few hours, you’ll be rid of me, and I’ll be rid of you.

We can forget all this happened and move on like we never even knew of each other’s existence. ”

Edward sat up, lines deepening across his forehead. “That isn’t what this is about, Will.”

“ Stop calling me that.”

“I don’t regret anything.” Edward’s voice rose in defence of William’s tone. He pushed from the sofa to standing, wobbling slightly. It took William effort not to rush to his side and help him.

“Then why do you look at me like you do? Why is it that every time we catch eyes it’s like you very much regret me ?”

Edward took cautious steps towards William, each footfall heavy and proud. “Don’t talk on my behalf. Ever. You don’t understand what is going through my head.”

“You’re right, I don’t. So go on then,” William said through a manic chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me. Spit it out. You might as well, right? What have you got to lose?”

They were so close now that there was barely an inch between them.

William had to tilt his head back just to keep a grasp of Edward’s intense glare.

“I told you. I don’t deserve your apology or your kindness.

I don’t deserve the time you’ve given me.

I don’t deserve you . Yes, I regret bothering you with my fantasies, but that doesn’t mean I regret you . ”

“I don’t believe a word out of your mouth,” William seethed, leaning on his toes until there was little to no room between them. Edward’s cool breath worked against William’s face, his pupils widening to black pits as he took him in.

“You shouldn’t,” Edward whispered, no longer needing to shout they were so close.

William’s eyes roamed over every inch of Edward’s face, across the constellation of freckles, the dimples his high cheekbones made in his cheeks, all the way to the bow of his lips.

“I want you to regret me,” William said without thought. “It would be easier to hear you say it.”

Edward’s eyes widened a fraction. “Why?”

How could William say it? How could he explain the curse that followed him, the agony he caused whenever he opened himself up to another person? “Because I’m broken.”

“We’re all broken, Will.”

This time, he didn’t tell Edward not to use that nickname. It was weak and pathetic of him, but it was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Then you know how sharp and deadly broken things can be. How they can hurt you if you get too close.”

“You are so very wrong.” Edward’s hand found William’s cheek again, the connection making him pause. A warmth spread from beneath his touch, filling every ounce of William’s body with what could only be explained as a full breath of fresh air. “There is a beauty to broken things.”

William blinked, sensing exactly what was coming next and being too desperate to stop it. “How so?”

“Because no matter how broken you become, there’s always the chance to be put back together over and over, until you are something new. Something stronger, more versatile. That’s you , William Thorn. Beautiful and deadly, yes – but that makes you stronger than most.”

Edward’s answer settled over William like the fresh drift of snow. It tickled his skin, cooling the heat of his anger until he was comfortable enough to close the space between them.

As their lips met, it was as if everything had faded away. Hanbury, its secrets and past, even William’s history. Nothing mattered as, for a brief moment, William allowed himself the one thing he feared and craved with equal measure.

The possibility of vulnerability.

The possibility of letting walls down without fear of crumbling.

The possibility of Edward.