Page 63 of The Haunting of William Thorn

They sat and watched as day turned to night beyond the narrow window, drawing the light from the room, all but a sliver of the moon’s glow that seemed to bathe the study in silver. It would be beautiful if they weren’t hiding out in a room from a crazed man who was doing God-knows-what downstairs.

Edward fell in and out of sleep, no matter what William did to try and keep him awake. He gave up in the end. Sleeping with a head wound was a risk, but nothing was keeping him alert. At least the silence gave William time to figure out what they would do to get out alive.

Together.

It was the only option. A focus. Something William needed.

Unlike the rest of Hanbury Manor, it was like time itself had stopped within this hidden room, even if the world beyond had moved on. Dust coated every surface, making each inhale suffocating. There was an odd smell – like old books riddled with mould or the promise of rodent’s desecration.

A part of William didn’t want to touch anything, but the other part – far louder – wanted him to turn the room upside down in search of answers.

Edward’s steady breathing broke, stealing William’s attention back to him. He slumped against the wall beside the black-and-white photo of the strange, robed group. Relief flooded William as his eyes finally fluttered open alongside a gut-wrenching groan.

“How long have I been… out?”

William pretended to look at a watch that wasn’t on his wrist. “An hour, maybe less, could be more.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” Edward groaned as he tried to right himself. “I suppose we just wait here until Mike either finds his way in or grows bored.”

From the distant banging downstairs, William already knew that Mike wouldn’t give up. Question was, why?

William didn’t want to make matters worse by facing their unkind reality. Instead, he sat himself on the floor beside Edward. Their knees brushed, followed by a hand that reached out and took Williams. Fingers threaded, fragile as twigs.

“I’ll figure it out,” William said, mind reeling, heart thundering. “I’m not prepared to wait around anymore. This is my house. Mine.”

Apparently, William didn’t come across as serious as he thought he sounded.

“Mmhm. You know, it’s certainly been the most thrilling few days of my life,” Edward said, leaning his body onto Williams, squeezing his hand with as much strength as he had left.

“Don’t speak like that,” William replied, drinking in the heavy-aired room, trailing eyes over ornate cabinets, a desk against the window and then to all the photos and paintings adorning the walls. “This isn’t the end yet.”

“Is it not?”

William couldn’t do anything to stop the lump from clogging his throat.

“No, far from it,” he replied, voice cracking as all of his emotion finally surfaced. “It can’t be. I refuse it. Mike will want something from this. Otherwise why the dramatics, right? We just need to figure out what it is, barter with him and pray that it’s enough.”

William Thorn had once wished nothing more than to die – to leave the suffering and grief for peace.

But now, in the face of it, he wanted to live.

If not for himself, but for Archie. Because he finally saw a future that he’d never get the chance to experience, all because of some great misunderstanding that led to his death.

His future was murky, but it was painted in Edward’s colours.

Defiance rose like a wave and boiled like the heat of a flame inside him. Although tears streamed down his face, he refused just to sit here and wait. Something clicked within him, a desire to get up and act.

“My focus is getting you to a hospital,” William said, turning all his of focus to the one detail that mattered. “That’s what I need.”

He wasn’t going to sit back another minute and watch him die from his wounds. Nor would he wait for Mike to get his way into the room and finish off the job.

“And I need… many things,” Edward replied, the lilt of his voice now a whisper.

His eyes could barely stay open. The wallpaper behind his head was smudged with the blood he continued to lose.

“But of them all, I want for only one thing. You to stay here… until I… I’m frightened, Will. Really scared.”

“Stop it,” William snapped. “Stop talking like you’re going to just give up. I rebuke it.”

“Rebuke?” Edward chuckled meekly. “I like that word.”

“You’re losing your mind.”

“Oh, I lost that a long time ago.” Edward laughed again, broken gasps that passed out split lips. “I like this side of you. Your determination. It’s hot.”

“Shut up.” William nudged him.

“Take the compliment.”

“How about we start complimenting each other once we aren’t six feet deep in shit.”

William shifted until he knelt before Edward, taking both his limp hands in his. He squeezed, hoping to feel one back, but Edward could barely move a finger. “Listen. There is actually so much more to me that you could like, but for that, you need to stay awake.”

What he meant was to stay alive , but William dared say that. He couldn’t admit the potential for death was waiting just moments away.

“Oh, motivation.” Edward smiled, his eyes flicking open. “You’ve almost convinced me.”

“Good,” William said. “Then fight.”

“I said almost .”

His heart sank further into his stomach. “All right, then tell me. Tell me what I can do to make you hold on. If you can’t do it for yourself, then you do it for me.”

Edward sighed, the sound hoarse and strained. His face was so white compared to his bruises and swelling, his once perfectly swept hair now knotted from blood. William wanted nothing more than to tend to every wound, but that wouldn’t help deal with the greater issue at hand.

“There is something.”

“Go on, tell me.”

One deep breath in, Edward managed to keep his eyes open for a longer time. “I need to hear you forgive me,” Edward said.

William knew what Edward desired forgiveness for, and he wasn’t prepared to give it.

Not now, but mostly because he didn’t need to.

Guilt was something they both harboured until it festered and twisted into a poison inside of them.

In their story there wasn’t a single person who was solely to blame.

William leaned in, bringing his mouth so close to Edward’s that their skin almost touched.

“I’ll tell you what. When we leave, and you are checked over at a hospital, then I will say whatever it is you want me to say.

I will forgive you for something that isn’t your fault if that makes you feel better.

But only when we get out. Do you understand? ”

“Bossy, too,” Edward’s face flickered with a fading grin. “Something else I like about you.”

“Stay alive,” William said in the most demanding tone he could muster. “Consider that a bossy command.”

Edward straightened as much as he could, brows raising as he tried to keep those rich eyes open. The swelling around them made it harder, but at least he tried.

“There has to be something in here,” William said, getting to work.

He stormed around the hidden room, opening draws to find papers piled neatly, each empty of words.

“If the Thomas family took their time to hide this room away, and yet keep it intact, it would be for a reason, right? Answers, maybe. Plus, there are two of us and one of Mike. Well, one and a half of us. But the chances are still in our favour.”

William moved to the desk, pushing a vase onto the floor until it smashed.

He searched for a big enough piece to use against Mike, but then his eyes fell on the metal carving of a snake.

Another Ouroboros. The same carved into the doorframes, the same worked onto the metal lid covering the well outside in the grounds.

William knew it had to mean something, he just had to work out what that was.

It was heavy to pick up, some sort of paperweight. It would do considerable damage if smashed into a person’s head. He knew it was an offence to attack a policeman like Mike Dean, but all things considered, Mike had attempted to kill Edward. This would just be self-defence.

Besides the paperweight, and the vase now smashed upon the floor, there was a typewriter positioned perfectly centred on the desk. The raised keys were coated in dust, as was everything else. Yet another heavy option.

He could imagine it, the headlines. Bestselling and beloved children’s author, William Thorn, murders policeman in a passionate yet haunting night of hell in his rotting manor house.

Beyond the rush of his thoughts, he realised the room had gone silence again.

“Hey, Edward. Keep talking to me,” William snapped at Edward, who’d fallen still.

“I’m alive.” A croaking and not-so-convincing voice, replied. “Tell me what you’ve found. Give me something to reply to.”

If it meant keeping his brain engaged, William would talk. “There’s a typewriter and a paperweight. Both could do some damage. A few yellowed envelopes with nothing in them.”

William began opening the drawers, each one had become sticky with age. Inside, much like the other drawers, were piles of papers. Except these had some writing on them, typed in neat lines beneath a familiar looking symbol.

“Now you’re the one whose gone quiet,” Edward grumbled. “What else?”

He’d gone silent for good reason. William withdrew the papers, lifting them into the light. “I’ve found… letters.”

“ Spooky –” Edward fell into a coughing fit, wet and hacking, the sound of lungs failing. Once he composed himself enough, he was able to finish his quip. “The dying art form of correspondence.”

“Are you okay?” William asked once Edward calmed down.

“Oh yes, I’m perfectly dandy.” Edward brushed a trickle of blood and saliva from the corner of his mouth. “Keep… looking. Keep talking to me.”

William did just that. He scanned the text, reading what turned out to be a dismissal notice from service during wartime. It was dated 1940, and stamped, much like the telegram that Edward had shown him telling of Teddy’s death during World War Two.