Page 7 of We May Be Fractured

“Hi, everyone, I’m Muhammad!” He greeted them with a wide grin and a self-aware chuckle as he smoothed down his well-combed hair.

“I know I’m a tad overdressed, but trust me, I can get my hands dirty.

We’ve got a bit of a mission ahead with these pesky weeds, cleaning up graffiti, and sorting out the old resting areas.

This isn’t just any garden, okay? This patch of greenery holds a lot of meaning for the care centre.

I think we can turn it around, make it a nice place again for everyone who needs it. ”

Sarah, visibly unimpressed, interjected, “All right, let’s get organised. We’ll start with weed removal first. After that, some of you will help Mr. Fancy Gardener with the plants, while the rest will be on graffiti removal duty.”

Muhammad, gesturing towards a shed with lively enthusiasm, declared, “Everything you need is right in there. Kit yourselves out, and later this afternoon, I’ll lead the plant team.”

Fluttering her eyelashes, Maeve chimed in, “Fingers crossed I land in your squad, Muhammad.”

With an eye roll, Sarah retorted, “Enough. Grab your gloves and shovels, and let’s get moving, shall we?”

The group dispersed, each person showing different reactions about the work ahead. Maeve, though, had stopped, her attention drawn to a big withered tree in the centre of the garden.

“What’s wrong with that tree?” she asked.

Aaron, following her gaze, studied its pitiful state with its twisted branches, chipped bark, and curled leaves.

“That cherry tree?” Muhammad sighed. “No one knows. On the surface, everything seems okay with it, yet it clearly isn’t thriving. But despite its appearance, it still shows signs of life.”

“Can’t we do something to revive it?” asked Ria.

“We’ve tried, but nothing seems to work. You know, nature has its mysteries, and this tree keeps its secrets well.”

“We should get rid of it.” Cliff scoffed, giving the tree a disdainful once-over. “If this garden is meant to revive, then why keep this monstrosity right at the centre?”

“Well, it’s a commemorative tree, planted in memory of Lily, the late founder’s daughter. Unless it dies naturally, we’re not going to kill it,” Muhammad retorted, clearly on the defensive.

“It’s an eyesore. And it looks as good as dead anyway.”

Aaron silently agreed. The gnarled, twisted tree seemed well beyond salvation.

Sarah clapped her hands together. “All right, enough drama about that old tree. There’s an entire garden waiting.”

As everyone scattered to get to work, Cliff spared both Aaron and the tree another disgusted look. Aaron didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but Maeve beelined straight to Cliff, probably hoping to pry some juicy gossip about whatever was going on between the two of them.

Meanwhile, the guy in all black—‘The Psycho’—lingered, eyes glued to the tree. He stood there, all solitary-like amid the bustle, deep in thought before he quietly faded into the shadows.

“Bailey,” Sarah shouted at him. “Don’t make me beg every time, and put on the damn jacket!”

The guy stopped in his tracks, his face a fortress, giving nothing away. He didn’t look back at Sarah or say a word, just slipped on the jacket, keeping behind as everyone else marched ahead.

Aaron passed him and picked up one of the few shovels left.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the others had snagged the better ones, leaving the scraps.

So, he opted for the only shovel with an intact handle and without tape or string holding it together.

But he stopped a few inches from grabbing it when heavy footsteps approached.

The Psy—Bailey—had caught up to him, and from the way he looked at the tools, Aaron could tell he wasn’t thrilled either. As Aaron reached for the shovel, the other guy did the same. However, Aaron, a split-second quicker, snatched it first.

“First come, first served,” Aaron taunted, gripping the handle firmly, refusing to be pushed around.

The guy said nothing, did nothing, but his stare was brutal enough to make Aaron step back. It was like a blade in his gut; that was how razor-sharp the vibe was. Still, Aaron held his ground, lifting his head slightly to meet the guy’s gaze, unshaken by the silent threat in those clear eyes.

Their silent standoff was brief. Bailey grabbed the remaining shovel and stalked away, his Docs emphatically hitting the ground.

*

A fter three hours of hard work, the entrance pathway was mostly clean. It turned out far more exhausting than the group had bargained for, even more so because of Maeve’s minimal effort. She had the nerve to blame her freshly done manicure, which earned her a few muttered curses.

When they were finally given a break for lunch, relief and cheers broke out. Aaron hung back, torn between following the majority towards a shaded area or mimicking the broody guy who’d chosen to stay near the conservatory.

“Come with us,” Nyle said, ending his dilemma.

After a brief moment, Aaron shuffled over to join them at a low stone wall. Everyone else dug into their packed lunches like it was some sort of picnic. Aaron just sat there. He hadn’t brought anything.

All the while, Cliff kept shooting him dagger looks.

“So,” Nyle said, sensing the thick tension, “you two have a bit of history?”

“More than I’d like,” Cliff muttered, his jaw clenched. “Tell me, Aaron, how can you even sleep at night after what you’ve done?”

“Easy. I count sheep.”

Cliff’s hands shook slightly. “If karma doesn’t catch up to you, I might.”

Sarah stepped in swiftly, placing herself between them. “Enough. Knock it off, or I’ll make your lives even more miserable.”

Cliff retreated but kept giving Aaron the stink eye while munching on his sandwich. Aaron did his best to ignore him.

“You not eating something?” Nyle asked, glancing over.

“Not in the mood,” Aaron replied, but his growling stomach said otherwise. His recent diet of protein bars wasn’t holding up well.

“Here.” Nyle offered half of his BLT. “Take it.”

“You keep it,” Aaron replied, but Nyle persisted, placing it next to him.

“Don’t bother,” Maeve quipped. “If he’s got a death wish, let him be.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She tilted her head in Bailey’s direction next to the conservatory. “You might want to tread lightly around Landon.”

Landon. Bailey. Landon Bailey. The threatening guy finally had a name.

“And why’s that?” Aaron asked.

Maeve leaned in. “He’s spent some time in juvie.”

Aaron took a bite from the sandwich before replying, “And what? We’re all golden boys and girls here?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“Word is, he killed someone,” Maeve added, perhaps hoping to scare him.

“If that were true, he wouldn’t be here with us pulling weeds, would he?”

Ria piped up, breaking away from her conversation with Cliff, “Wasn’t it about drug possession and assaulting a police officer?”

“No, no, I told you already. Landon ended up inside for robbery,” Nyle corrected.

Maeve waved him off. “Whatever…just steer clear. The guy’s mental.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Aaron informed her, finding the topic already boring.

“You should be.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, turning to look her in the eyes. “I’m not used to doing what others say. I can judge people for myself. Besides”—he pointed at her—“who’s to say I’m not the more dangerous one here?”

“Oh yeah? And tell us, Aaron Walsh, what dark deeds brought you here?”

“He’s been a dick,” Cliff replied. “Aaron’s the type to watch your back, then stab it. He’s right when he says we might have more to fear from him.”

“Fuck you,” Aaron retorted.

“No thanks. I had enough when you screwed me at the party.”

“That would be enough for me too.” Nyle chuckled to break the tension.

“Stick to your fantasy rainbow world, ‘My Little Pony’,” Cliff snapped at him.

“Hey.” Ria tugged at him. “There’s no need to take it out on Nyle. He was joking.”

Sarah approached, clapping to get their attention. “Seriously, kids? Can’t behave for a few minutes?”

“It’s him.” Cliff pointed at Aaron, who continued eating his sandwich as if nothing had happened.

“Walsh,” Sarah sighed. “You’re walking a fine line, like Bailey. Don’t push it. Go cool off somewhere else.”

Aaron quickly finished his sandwich. He pulled out a cigarette and headed over to where he’d last seen the scary guy—Landon. As he got closer, Landon’s glance at him was fleeting, almost dismissive, as if Aaron was nothing more than an annoying fly.

Small, insignificant, harmless.

It caught Aaron off-guard that Landon hadn’t given a second glance at his scars. Maeve and Nyle had obvious reactions to them. Even Ria had taken a brief pause before offering her radiant smile. But Landon? He hadn’t flinched, as if the scars weren’t even there.

With the cigarette dangling from his lips, Aaron studied him.

The others had painted a picture of Landon being dangerous, maybe even deadly. But as he stood there, relaxed against the wall, puffing out smoke, he appeared like a bored dragon whose tail they’d tried in vain to cut off.

Aaron fumbled for his lighter, only to be met with disappointment when it didn’t work. He caught Landon’s eye and mimed the action of lighting the cigarette with his thumb.

Landon followed the motion with a lazy glance but made no move to help. Instead, he took his sweet time with his own cigarette, blowing smoke in Aaron’s direction with every puff. When he was down to the last embers, he dropped the stub and crushed it beneath his shoe.

Without a word, he walked off, once again with a decisive stride.

Aaron, cigarette still unlit in his mouth, watched him go.

For all the rumours and tales about Landon, only one word summed up Aaron’s impression: wanker.