Page 121 of The Staircase in the Woods

They had only the loosest plan. They told him they loved him very much. They missed him. They begged him to push the house out. To remember who he was, who he really was. They reminded him of the Covenant.

Nick bellowed—a banshee’s wail that was both mournful and fed by rage, and he reached for Hamish with choking hands. But his hands were bound together and he could only lurch forward so far, even as he started to bite through the tape, spit springing from his mouth and hanging in strings from his lips, even as the whites of his eyes burst red from the fury of his effort. Lore and Hamish held him back, shushing him, trying not to hurt himorbe hurt in the process—

And Owen, standing back, felt the pain coming off of him—bleeding like waves of heat. That pain came from something. From somewhere. The house had seized upon it, and it was the key that opened the lock that was Nick Lobell.

Pain that had been locked away, festering.

And never once reckoned with.

The house wouldn’t have reckoned with it, either. It didn’t heal that wound. It didn’t push the pain away. It just took it and used it against Nick.

As Owen watched Nick spasming violently, teeth snapping at the faces of Lore and Hamish, he felt the words coming up out of him—

A mistake, perhaps.

A reckoning, definitely.

A risk, 100 percent.

He said: “We know what your father did to you, Nick. And it wasn’t your fault.”

There. Nick froze in his attack. Frozen still, except for the trembling of his body, the gentle clacking of his teeth.

Lore and Hamish looked at him, half angry, half confused. Because they didn’t know. Owen knelt down in front of Nick and took his hands. Blinking back tears, Owen said, “It wasn’t your fault. It was his fault. We love you, and we’re sorry we didn’t see it. But we see itnow. We see you now.” Owen hugged his friend and said in his ear: “We’re so fucking sorry, Nick.”

The fight went out of Nick. But so did everything else. He slumped forward, and then when the hug was done, backward. Instantly, he fell into a catatonic state. Rarely blinking. Just barely breathing. They tried talking to him some more but it didn’t even seem to register. Owen wondered if the house was gone from him. And further, he had to wonder:

Was the house the only thing propping him up?

If it was gone, did it take too much of Nick with it?

What was even left of their friend?

73

Midnight Interruption

Owen told them, of course. He had to, now. Though it was not his secret to share, the house had shared it with him. And they needed to know. So he told them what he saw. How Nick’s father was abusing his son.

They, of course, were horrified. Nick loved his dad. His dad was the Cool Dad. Theyallloved him, loved hanging out there.

How had they missed it?

—

“I still loved him, was the worst part.”

That sentence, spoken in the darkness of the crawlspace.

They startled awake to find Nick standing there. He’d freed himself from his bonds. Chewed his way free of the tape. He was a shadow above them.

Owen saw:He has something in his hand.

“Nick,” Lore said, calmly.

Nick kept on talking, his words weak and weepy, strung together with sniffles and small ill-stifled sobs: “Like, he was my dad, and he was…doing stuffto me. And I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. Because he was my dad. And how fucked is that? How fucked is it that I didn’t even like myself enough to hate him for what he did to me? Wasdoingto me. Christ. I didn’t like myself enough to stop him. Fuck. I didn’t tell any of you. Covenant this, Covenant that, blah blah blah, all bullshit because I kept that to myself. Because—fuck, I dunno.” His voice trembled and shook. “I dunno why.”

“It’s okay, dude,” Hamish said in the darkness. Slowly standing.