Chapter 17
THEO - EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
“BAY!” I yell after him as he runs from me. “BAILEY!” My voice cracks, and I choke on my tears. He doesn’t look back once as he disappears down the street. I want to chase after him, but my feet are rooted to the ground, legs barely holding my weight.
What the fuck was that? Everything was good. We were good. I head back inside, slamming the front door shut, rushing up to my bedroom. The last five minutes play on repeat in my head.
He told me he loved me before I went to work this morning, to turn around and say he’d been lying—he couldn’t even look at me. I’d like to see him try that again. I’d make him look me in the eye and tell me I meant nothing to him.
I don’t believe him. The boy I’ve lived with for the past year would never have done that. And yet, it’s not the first time he’s run from me …
Jesus, my stomach hurts. I sit on my bed and pull out my phone, debating whether I should call him. I need more from him than the ‘not wanting to be with my first boyfriend forever’ bullshit.
I call him and it rings through to voicemail, so I try again. And again. Growling in frustration, I text him instead.
Me
We need to talk, you can’t just leave like that, Bay
Minutes go by, and the message sits unread.
Me
Where are you? I’m not angry, I just want to understand
I’m not sure how much time passes, but I’m lying on my bed, feeling numb, when my parents get home. My throat burns from holding back tears. I’m going to have to tell them that Bailey’s gone. I desperately try phoning him another three times, but all of them go through to voicemail.
Me
Let me see you one more time, please?
A knock on my bedroom door makes me jump.
“Boys, have you had dinner?” Ma shouts through.
“Yes,” I say weakly.
“Theo? Is everything okay?”
Sniffing and wiping away my tears, I choke out, “Yeah, everything’s fine, Ma. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You sure?”
“I said it’s fine, Ma!” I shout, frustrated that she won’t leave.
“Okay, honey. Come find me when you’ve calmed down.”
Great. Even without telling her anything, she probably knows what’s happened. Exhausted and emotionally drained, I close my eyes for just a minute.
Vibrations shock me out of my sleep. I sit bolt upright, hands seeking my phone. When I unlock it, there’s a text from Bay.
Bay
Meet me by the shed in the woods.
I follow the river, retracing my steps from a few months ago, until the shed comes into view.
I try not to question why he wants to meet here when he had such a bad reaction to it last time.
The sickly sweet smell is still thick in the air, getting stronger the closer I get.
I can’t see him anywhere in the clearing, so I approach the shed slowly.
“Bay?” I whisper, pushing the door open slowly.
It’s pitch black inside, other than the fading light of the setting sun slipping through the doorway.
The smell is so much worse in here—cloying, hot, and thick, coating the back of my throat, making me retch.
I scan the room, letting my eyes adjust, but the door snicks shut and I’m plunged into darkness.
Something hits the back of my head, and I drop to the floor.
I try to stand up but my head swims. Hands grab my wrists, binding them, pulling tight.
I kick out, desperate to break free of whoever the fuck is touching me.
They squeeze my arm tight, and I feel something sharp pinch inside the crook of my elbow.
“Bay!” I call out, hoping he’s somewhere in the clearing, close enough to hear me.
Everything feels warm and heavy. All the fight bleeds out of me until I can’t keep my eyes open.
This is wrong …
Everything feels so wrong.
Fighting to stay conscious, I try to yell, but nothing comes out. The silence is suffocating.
The world tilts wildly as my eyes flutter open.
Everything’s still dark and hazy. I feel like I’m buried under a hot blanket.
Gasping for air, I try to move, gagging at the rancid smell.
I can’t move my arms or legs—I pull and tug, but my wrists and ankles are restricted by tight ropes that scratch and dig with every movement.
My skin crawls, and I break into a sweat.
I manage to roll over, and whatever was on top of me shifts, thudding onto the wooden floor.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see the door is still cracked open, a slither of moonlight illuminating what I’d been buried under.
My breath catches in my throat. Bright copper fur, stained red, numerous vacant eyes staring back at me.
I squint, fighting double vision as I start to identify different animals: foxes, rabbits, a couple of cats, and at least a dozen mice mixed into the mound.
There’s a buzzing sound, increasing in volume, that draws my attention to a cloud of black hovering over the carcasses.
Flies zip and dive through the air before landing on the decomposing flesh.
Something shifts in the pile, and I hold my breath, searching the bodies for the source of movement, terrified that there’s something alive in here with me.
A fox moves, and I scramble further back. It’s missing a whole eye. The socket and cheek ripple and undulate. Squinting, I can just about make out a sea of white, hundreds of maggots wriggling in the gaping hole.
I roll away from the horror and retch again, bringing up the contents of my stomach, acidic bile burning my tongue as I spit it out.
I begin to shake, my breathing too fast …
there’s not enough oxygen. The hum of the flies disappears.
I’m deaf for a moment before a high-pitched wail pierces my ears, getting louder and louder until everything goes black once more.
“Wake up.”
A hand strokes through my hair, and I lean into it as my head pounds. Moaning, “Bay.”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
My stomach clenches as though it’s on a hair trigger, ready to expel its contents again. I peel my eyes open. Seeing Bailey so close to me, I jump, biting my tongue, then rush out, “Bay, help me, I don’t know—”
“Why didn’t you let me go?” he interrupts. “I told you it was over, and you wouldn’t stop calling.”
“I-I needed to talk to you. Please, you need to get these ropes off me, there’s someone—”
“No.”
“No?”
Ice-blue eyes stare back at me, wet from tears, yet cold and distant. “I told you that I’d end up hurting you. I said I was scared that I would, and you ignored me. I wanted to leave and you made me go home with you. Forced me to stay.”
“I didn’t force you—”
He pulls a knife from his pocket and yanks my head, exposing my neck. I suck in a breath and hold it there, too scared to move an inch.
“This is all your fault. You should have just let me go when I ran from you in the forest,” he says, voice cracking, eyes welling up with tears.
“Please,” I breathe.
The knife digs into my skin. “I can’t do this anymore, Theo. I can’t pretend that I’m normal, that there isn’t this fucking monster hiding inside of me, just waiting to escape.”
“You don’t have to do this, Bay,” I gasp.
I stare as tears stream down his face. “You made me do this!”
I swallow, and the knife scrapes my skin. I’ve never felt so helpless. I don’t know what he’s on about, there being a monster inside him. He’s not violent. He’s not—whatever the fuck this is.
“Go home, pack your things, and move to Scotland. I’m not coming with you.
” He drops the knife on the floor. Panting, he stands up and walks out.
As soon as he’s gone, I shuffle along the floor towards the knife, turning and trying to grab it between my fingers.
Just as I have it secure in my hand, the door bangs open fully and more moonlight streams in.
Bailey comes back in holding a petrol can.
“W-what are you doing?” I shake my head as he walks over to the pile of animals. “Bailey.” The smell hits me immediately as he starts to douse them. I try to use the knife to free myself.
“Can’t leave evidence behind,” he mutters, walking back to the door. He wipes the tears from his eyes and pulls a lighter from his pocket. “I tried to be good for you, Theo. I know you’ll get out of this, just … just leave, okay? And never come back.”
He flicks the flint with his thumb and a flame jumps to life, dancing in the slight breeze coming from the open doorway. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he throws it onto the petrol-soaked carcasses, then turns, walking out the door.
I watch the flames surge upward and suck in a breath, fingers halting their progress on cutting through the rope. My heart stops as the pile of furs are engulfed. The cloying smell of the animals melds with petrol and charred flesh, forcing bile up my throat.
I shake my head so I can focus, frantically sawing through the rope again. My hands suddenly snap apart, and I immediately start on the ropes around my ankles.
The flames lick up the walls and along the floor. Too close. Too hot. Black smoke starts to settle, making it hard to draw in air. There’s no time to free my legs. I hold the knife in one hand and start dragging myself out of the shed.
When I get outside, I gulp in fresh air.
There's no time to stop—I hear the timber crack, and part of the roof collapses.
Rolling onto my back, I scramble away just in time to see the flames burst through the windows.
Shattered glass sprays outwards. I cover my eyes with my arm as tiny shards hit me.
A blistering heat bites at my ankles, drawing my attention away from the shed.
The ropes around my ankles have caught on fire.
Fumbling the knife, I cut myself free as quickly as I can, tossing the rope away, burning my fingers in the process.
Dizziness hits me like a freight train as I push to my feet. I wobble, grabbing hold of a nearby tree to steady myself. I drop the knife and push myself forward, trying to run, stumbling over rocks and roots as brain fog consumes me.
When I finally get home, I head straight for the bathroom, and turn on the bath tap, forcing my throbbing ankles under the water for a few minutes.
I dry them off then wrap them in cling film.
Giving myself no time to think about what’s happening, I shove everything I can think of into bags, grab my phone charger and wallet, and head back out.
My brain hasn’t caught up yet. I don’t know what the hell Bailey injected me with, but I feel sick, and my vision still won’t focus properly.
My arm itches, and when I look down, there’s a little bruise on the inside of my elbow.
I pull my phone out and block Bailey’s number, letting out a choked sob as I make my way to the train station.
I just need to get to Skye and everything will be okay. I’ll be safe.
I’ll never have to see that psychopath again.