Julian
SUSIE FALLS ONTO MY bed, her back sinking into the duvet. Long, ginger hair hangs haphazardly off the edge of the mattress as she sighs, her shoes long since having been kicked to the ground.
“This place is gorgeous, Julie,” she sighs dreamily.
I smile, enjoying the sight of her lounging so comfortably in my space, just as she did during those calm years we spent growing up together.
Landon awkwardly shuffles from where he stands to my left, in front of the dresser.
After the two of them arrived, I gave my friends a tour of Chastain Castle, fortunately avoiding not only the staff but the Chastains themselves. Throughout the entire event, Landon did not speak. Even now, as we’ve come full circle to my bedroom, he does not speak.
Awkward. It’s almost as if he’s punishing me for running out on him last night, but what was I supposed to do? Let him fuck me and then remind him I’ll never be more than his best friend? Fuck him, and then tell him I’ll never love him in the way he needs me to?
I’m just not that cruel. Not anymore.
I thought he’d be a bit more understanding, that since I’ve been gone, he would have had time to think and come to terms with the reality of our relationship. But no, it seems that instead, he’s spent the past handful of months counting down the days until he could try to persuade me again.
And while I admire his perseverance, I’ve grown exhausted by this dance. I just want my best friend back.
“Want to watch a movie or something?” I ask, attempting to lighten the room’s atmosphere that Landon’s mopey attitude keeps dragging down.
“I want to see the Pacific!” Susie responds excitedly. She sits up on my bed, a small grin shaping her lips. “You said you can go right up to the cliff in the backyard, right?”
“Yeah.” I hesitate for a brief moment.
I haven’t seen Atlas standing out there today, and he normally waits by that cliffside at least once. Will he show up while we’re there? He wouldn’t, right?
In a total act of cowardice, I’ve been avoiding Atlas. I’m not sure how to interact with him. In fact, I’m not sure how to act at all.
Last night was… fucking terrifying, for lack of better words.
And if the marks on my face weren’t a stinging reminder, I think I’d let my brain convince me I dreamt it.
But even now, my cheeks ache, and the memory of my bed dipping and that horrific scream plagues my consciousness like a nasty parasite.
I really, really thought I was going to die.
And why it left me to wallow in my own panic and tears after hovering over me for far too long, I’m unsure.
How am I meant to face Atlas now that I’m reassured that what I saw that night in his room was, in fact, not his boyfriend? When I am certain that this thing has infiltrated the west tower, taken him roughly, and now has its sights set on me?
Will it force me into submission as well? Will it stop hurting Atlas if I let it?
But what I really can’t stop picturing is his sweet little face when he told me he liked it. When he said he enjoyed being fucked so brutally. Was he lying? Or… or does he want that creature?
There are so many questions filling my mind, mingling with a sick guilt that I’m reminded of every time I see his face. One that reminds me that I’ve left him to handle that thing alone this entire time.
Everyone has.
Who else knows? I’m scared to tell anyone, to say anything. I’m scared they’ll send me away, as I’d be admitting to entering the west tower after dark. That rule was most important, and I so easily defied it.
And even worse still is that I’m not even concerned I’ll be kicked out in relation to my income or my father and I’s future. But rather, not knowing who will help Atlas once I’m gone. Because if Atticus and their parents know of that thing, and they’re doing nothing, I’m not sure how to take that.
“Julie?” Susie presses, her concerned eyes narrowing on me.
I clear my throat. “It’s kind of cold, though.”
I really don’t want to run into Atlas. What would I say? Somehow, I don’t think saying, “Hey, Atlas! That monster that fucks you senseless harassed me last night!” is the way to reconnect after the last awkward conversation we had.
The one in which I sent him away, due to my own severe jealousy. The jealousy I told him I did not have.
“So? Let’s just have some tea and put on our jackets. We won’t die, Julian,” she deadpans.
I sigh. “Alright, I’ll go ask Barfred to make—”
“I’ll do it,” Landon interrupts.
“Huh?”
“Yeah. I… I need a second, anyway. Should I just see if he’s in the kitchen now?” Landon won’t look at me as he speaks, staring at his shoes instead. His brows are pinched, his brown hair falling into his eyes as his head stays tilted downward.
“Uh, yeah. He’ll have black hair and brown eyes. You won’t be able to miss him,” I answer, and they can both tell by my tone that I’m not super comfortable with this.
Lan doesn’t seem to care. He nods once and slips out of my room, and as soon as the door shuts quietly, Susie groans.
“Dude, he’s like a heartbroken teenager. I feel bad.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I demand. “I’ve told him since he confessed that it’s not like that for me. I love him, I really do. But I’m not in love with him. And I… I just…”
“I know,” Susie interrupts, her tone placating. She stands from the bed and approaches me, patting my shoulder. “It’s okay; he’ll sort it out. Now… tell me about this.”
Susie’s fingertips trail lightly over my left cheek, right over one of the long scratches.
Suddenly, I’m lying back in my bed in the darkness of the night; my body is weighed down under the sheer terror of the thing hovering above me, and I can almost feel the caress of its cold, clammy skin and sharp nails.
The way it squeezed and impaled my skin, drawing minuscule amounts of blood. My blood.
“Julian—breathe!” Susie demands.
I inhale sharply, and she’s blurry where she stands in front of me.
“S-sorry, fuck. I’m a mess.” I give her a shaky laugh.
Her narrowed eyes tell me she doesn’t buy my happy-go-lucky attitude. “What happened to you? Who… how…?”
“If I told you that I would rather die than talk about it, would you drop it?” I ask her hopefully, smiling nervously.
Susie shakes her head lightly but sighs all the same.
“I’m not sure why you’re hiding from me, Julian.
You know I wouldn’t judge you, that I’d always be on your side.
But if it’s too hard or you feel reluctant for whatever reason, then okay.
But listen here—if I find out someone is putting their hands on you, I’ll break their fucking fingers. ”
And I know she’s serious. In fact, the look she’s leveling me with makes me a little scared for the monster, even as I’m sure it would probably devour little Susie whole.
“Thanks, Susie.” I smile at her, a real one.
“And if it has something to do with this family, then—”
“I’m going to see if Landon found Barfred,” I say, cutting her off. She’s treading far too close to the truth because this thing has everything to do with Atlas, and I’m not ready to divulge that to Susie.
She just sighs once more, waving me toward the door with a plethora of attitude.
We grab our coats—and Landon’s—on the way out, making our way to the kitchen in Hall E1.
“Do you think if I got Lan on Grindr, he’d move on?” Susie asks absentmindedly as we walk through the main foyer.
“Hmm, maybe? He has a type, though,” I answer.
“What, dark and brooding men who can manhandle him as well as he can manhandle them?”
I roll my eyes at her description of me.
“I guess. He’s not into the small type. He’s more of a muscle—” My words die out as I push open the kitchen door.
Standing by the center island is Landon, with three cups of tea on a tray sitting on the countertop that his back is pressed to. And in front of him, crowding his space, is Barfred.
Barfred, who towers over Landon by at least two inches, is staring down at him like he wants to punch him and devour him simultaneously.
But what shocks me the most is that Landon is wearing an expression I’ve never seen before—not even while I was fucking him.
An expression that makes him look small and submissive; one that makes him appear a little terrified and completely awed.
His hands are grasping the ledge behind him so intently that his knuckles have gone white.
Susie makes a small gasping noise of surprise from where she’s peering around me, and Landon’s head whips in our direction, though Barfred never turns his attention from my best friend.
“Shit,” he hisses quietly, sliding to the side to get out from between the island and Chastain Castles’ cook.
“You’re Barfred?” Susie asks. “I was expecting a super old guy, but you’re like, super hot!”
Barfred finally looks in our direction, his expression fading into one I’m more familiar with—kind hospitality.
“Good morning, pleasure to meet you. I’m Nathaniel Barfred.” He extends his hand to Susie, who takes it happily.
“I’m Susie, Julian’s best friend. Well, one of them, but it seems like you’ve already become acquainted with the other.” Her knowing smirk tells me I’m not imagining things—there was definitely tension in this room when we entered.
But why?
Barfred turns his attention back to Landon, who is staring at me now, his eyes wide and fearful.
“It seems that way,” the cook says. “Your tea is ready, Mister Julian.”
“Thank you, Barfred,” I say, walking around him to grab the tray.
“What were you two talking about?” Susie questions, her curious eyes hopping between Landon and Barfred.
Barfred’s eyes, still fixed on my best friend, narrow slightly as he grins. It’s not a particularly nice grin, but rather one that appears a bit vicious and vengeful. “We were just discussing the morality behind choice, isn’t that right?”
“Uh,” Landon starts, his wide eyes searching my expression. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t seem to find it.
Susie frowns. “That’s an odd thing to talk about.”
“Your friend here has an interesting take on it. Care to share again, little Lanny?” Barfred pushes.
Little Lanny?!