Chapter Twelve
Andrew
I knew where to find Richard, and it wasn't at home. In the past, every time he needed a break from life, or needed to think something over, he'd go stay at a cabin owned by a friend of his. Arthur and I went with him a few times when we were younger.
Lurking outside the door, I listen to the sounds of him moving around inside.
He's making dinner, from what I can tell.
Speaking of food, I should go hunt something before I face Richard.
I'm not an expert at it yet, but I managed to nab a few rabbits to hold me over while I made my way here.
Still, I want to get this over with. I'll have plenty of time to hunt once Richard throws me out of the cabin, and his life.
The wood creaks when I knock, reminding me I'm significantly stronger now. Richard's footsteps move closer, stopping right before he opens the door.
"Oh, my God! Andrew!" He drops the dishrag he'd been holding and throws his arms around me. "Where have you been? Are you okay? Where's Arthur?"
Keeping a check on my strength, I toss the duffel bag around Richard into the entry way, then return the embrace. Words fail me as I soak in the warmth of his body and his love. I don't want to lose this.
Pulling back, the man waves me inside, stooping to pick up the discarded towel. "I just finished making myself some casserole. Would you like some?"
"No, thank you. I ate before I got here. But you go ahead."
Instead of going to the kitchen, he sits in one of the chairs by the fireplace. In a habit of nervous gesture, I wipe my hands on my pants, then join him in the living room, taking a seat on the couch.
"Son, I've been so worried. I can't get in touch with Arthur. You disappeared. The authorities have no information. I had to come up here to keep from losing my sanity if another well-meaning friend asked me if I've heard anything or how I'm holding up."
The words try to stick in my throat, but I force them out. "Sir, I have something to tell you." My breath shakes as I inhale unnecessarily. I see the moment Richard understands what's coming.
"No," he whispers, shaking his head. "No!"
"I'm so sorry. You'll never know how much. It's my fault."
"Tell me what happened."
What can I say to him that won't make me sound like I'm out of my mind? Once he knows about the paranormal, he can't unknow it. I was so fired up to tell him everything. Now that we're face-to-face, I don't know if I should.
"We were abducted by a cult. I was the target. Arthur got in the way, so they took him, too. I made it out, he didn't."
I want to tell him even though I made it out, part of me still died. And I'll never be rid of the guilt for what happened to his son – my best friend, my brother. But this isn't about me. It's not about him absolving me. It's about giving him closure so he can grieve.
"There's something you're not telling me. I can feel it. You know I always know when you're hiding stuff. Even with you grown up, that hasn't changed."
"I want to tell you more. I came here to tell you everything. But now, I think my partner might be right. It's not a good idea. Will you trust me on this?"
"Why do you think what happened is your fault?" He changes inquiry tactics.
"Because I was the one they were after. I don't even know why I was chosen. Arthur was supposed to be coming to see you, but he hadn't left yet."
"Was any of it under your control?"
"No, but –"
"It's not your fault, Andrew. But you had better give me all the facts. That is something you can control. And I deserve answers."
Richard's heartbeat thunders in my ears and my gums burn. The stress of this conversation is getting to me, but I can control the hunger. I must control it. These monstrous urges can't be allowed to destroy an innocent person.