Chapter 16 #2
I don’t know what I’m about to uncover, but there must be a good reason the information is locked away, sunken beneath the false bottom of the drawer.
Sitting in the high-backed leather chair, I pull it open with an ominous creak.
Ignoring the stack of papers inside, I use the letter opener on top to lift the wood panel. Sure enough, the drive is there.
For what it’s worth, I do hesitate before opening Hawthorne’s computer. We’ve always respected each other’s privacy, waiting for the other to be ready to share, or sitting easily with the acceptance that some things don’t need to be. But this isn’t one of them.
Time is a luxury we no longer have.
My unreleased breath balloons uncomfortably in my chest as I open a folder.
Selecting the first video file, I turn up the volume, and press play.
It’s a bit grainy, filmed at night, on an outdated camera, if the timestamp of 2016 is correct.
Despite the poor quality, the agony on a younger Hawthorne’s face is clear to see.
Groaning and strained breathing plague me through the speakers as I turn the volume up to hear better through the poor audio quality.
“We need to call it,” a man’s voice murmurs behind the camera.
“When has that stopped him?” Another responds.
“It’s going to kill him,” the first man hisses angrily. “Hawthorne, you need to stop. It’s not working.”
Thorne’s eyes remain closed tightly in concentration, his jaw and shoulders set as his head tilts back further.
He lets out a bloodcurdling scream, but the voice isn’t his.
None of them are. He thrashes, fists pounding into his flesh as his body jerks this way and that.
I gasp at the pain he’s inflicting on himself.
When his nails dig into his skin, peeling, someone finally intervenes.
The camera tilts, the ground and quickly moving shoes fill the screen before it’s righted by whoever it’s been handed off to. Jayden kneels in front of Hawthorne and shakes him by his shoulders.
“Hawthorne, end it. Come back.” But he doesn’t respond. “Fuck.” With a quick movement, he covers Hawthorne’s mouth and nose with one hand, cutting off his air, and cups his other hand around the back of his head. In response, Thorne starts convulsing.
“Stop,” I can’t help but whisper as I watch helplessly. My fingernails dig into the wood despite knowing that he obviously survives whatever this is.
With a sharp drag of air, Hawthorne’s eyes snap open.
They’re shockingly wide as he grabs at Jayden’s shoulders, his head falling into the crook of his neck.
The intimacy of it takes me aback, needles of jealousy pricking me.
But gratitude is a soothing balm that sweeps in.
I should be appreciative that someone was looking after him in my absence.
Isn’t this what I’d wanted? For him to move on?
He hadn’t, though. The selfish part of me preens. I hate her.
This video has only raised more questions without giving me any answers. I press play on the next one.
Slightly less grainy footage shows Hawthorne sitting in a chair this time, the same one I was deposited in when I first arrived. In front of him is what appears to be a two-way mirror. A ring of salt encircles him.
“Is the timer set?” he asks someone who must be standing on the other side of it.
“Yes,” an echoing voice responds. A click of a speaker. “Hawthorne, be careful.” Genuine concern adds heft to the warning.
“You know me,” Hawthorne responds with a smirk before rubbing his hands on his pants. “All right, let’s get started.” He rolls his neck and shoulders.
My heart skips a beat as silver gleams in his hand. Zooming, I confirm my fears as he raises the knife and places it to his sternum. His lips move, but I can’t hear anything. Crushing the button beneath my thumb violently, I turn the volume all the way up. Even then, it’s just mumbling.
I might not understand what he’s saying, but the knife tearing through his flesh speaks clearly enough as he opens himself up.
“No, no, no. Don’t do that,” I mumble uselessly.
His agonized groaning as he injures himself overrides any comfort that the past-dated timestamp should provide.
“Thorne, what the fuck?” Two voices bellow over the speaker. Seconds later, Jayden rushes into the room.
“Don’t,” Hawthorne huffs with great effort. “Don’t break the circle.” His words become inaudible again.
The other man paces while chewing away at his fingernails. A “fuck” uttered every so often as Hawthorne resumes his mumbling.
As the minutes pass, his voice escalates with his frustration. “Come on, you fucking coward. Come back.”
I barely register the words he growls as I watch the blood drip down his abdomen. The life essence of the most precious person in my life, leaking wastefully onto the ground. Each drop is a tolling bell that urges on my worry.
“Come on,” Thorne yells, now digging his fingers into the long vertical cut. “I’m offering you a deal.”
My stomach drops, the insinuation of his words, a cannonball sinking me into the depths of my fear.
“Hawthorne, there are only two minutes left. Just stop, it’s not going to work.” The man behind the mirror insists reasonably. I could kiss him for his levelheadedness.
“I can’t. This has to work,” Thorne argues. “If I can prove that I can control him, she’ll see it’s safe to come back. Just give me the—” The thought ends abruptly as he starts to shake. Even in the dull light, the sheen on his brown skin is visible from how his body is exerting itself.
My leg jiggles up and down with anxiety as horror unfolds on the screen. The tips of fingers emerge from the walls, then hands, then arms as they reach toward Hawthorne. Some have their palms turned up, a request, while others claw at the wallpaper and twist with anguish.
Hawthorne pays no attention to them, focused on whatever he’s muttering under his breath. But then he starts choking, his hands reaching for his throat, eyes bulging, features taut in pain. Something moves in his throat, the tissue swelling and shifting unnaturally.
No.
Unable to believe what I’m seeing, I lean closer to the screen. I’m not mistaken; there’s something in there, forcing its way up, up, up.
His mouth opens in a scream, but only gargled sounds come out. Farther and farther, his lips part. His body thrashes while he battles it out with whatever’s found its way inside him. Hawthorne contorts, his back bending around the top of the chair, then slumps forward.
Jayden runs over, pushing him back into a sitting position. His fingers press against Hawthorne’s pulse. Even though I know he’s alive and well today, I’m on edge waiting for the verdict.
“Hawthorne, wake up.” His other hand pushes his curls back tenderly. “Come on, please. Please, please, please.” His desperation matches mine as I maim my palm with digging nails. “Wake up,” he cries out, slapping his cheek.
That gets a reaction.
Hawthorne’s head snaps up, but he’s not quite there.
All that shows are the whites of his eyes as his mouth twitches into a smile.
“Hawthorne’s not here right now,” the entity states plainly.
Taking a wet, ragged breath, Hawthorne’s mouth opens wide, and through it comes screaming—loud and wrong and powerful.
It’s no longer just one voice. It’s dozens. Then hundreds.
Slapping my palms over my ears, I try to muffle the horrific sound. Jayden does the same in the video as he backs away from Hawthorne.
The screaming continues growing louder and louder, his mouth opening wider and wider until what appears to be dozens of fingers fight to reach out from behind his teeth.
Greedily, they grab and pull and reach until blood starts seeping from the corner.
Skin splits, a gruesome display as they hold control over him.
It continues, going on for far too long until nearly half the right side of his face is torn.
I cover my mouth, a choked sob escaping me.
Jayden holds one hand under his chin, trying to force his mouth shut, the other on top of his head.
“Wake up. Come back to me right fucking now. You’re not going to let them do this to you, do you fucking hear me?
” Shaking with effort, tears running down his face, he finally gets it to shut.
“Hawthorne!” he screams in his face, losing all hope.
Sudden stillness takes hold of his limbs, and everything stops. You could hear a pin drop. After a few seconds, Jayden collapses in his lap, his forehead resting against Hawthorne’s, who is still unconscious, with his hands limp at his sides.
“Come back. You can’t leave me here alone. You promised it was going to be okay. It better fucking be okay.” He wipes the perspiration from Hawthorne’s forehead with the bottom of his shirt.
The first movement starts with a twitch of his fingers, then between his shoulder blades. He blinks his eyes open slowly, like waking from a dream.
A groan escapes him, and he reaches for the side of his face, but Jayden stops him from touching the open wound.
“Don’t.” His voice is unsteady and rasping. “Don’t say anything. We need to get this looked at.”
In response, Hawthorne grabs at Jayden’s arms, fingers digging into the lean muscle. His entire body shakes—whether it’s from adrenaline or pain, I can’t be sure.
“Fucking hell.” Jayden’s hand cups his other cheek, then drops his head against Hawthorne’s chest. I can’t even be angry because I’m just unbelievably grateful that he wasn’t alone in that moment.
Hawthorne winces but remains silent as he palms the back of Jayden’s neck, holding him close, not in a romantic way, but in an apology and comfort.
His chest moves in uneven but full breaths while Jayden’s body heaves in jerky moments as they sit there like that for several minutes.
“You really fucking scared me,” Jayden finally says as he gets up. “We’re never doing this shit again. You hear me?”
Hawthorne holds his gaze, something unspoken passing between them before he nods and stands on slightly unsteady feet.
“Come on, we need to get you patched up, that’s going to be a gnarly one to heal,” he assesses through a grimace before the two men walk off screen.
Slamming the laptop shut, my body aches with the aftermath of all the tension that’s been coiled tightly within me.
“Holy fucking shit.” My hands shake and my heart hammers as I try to process what I just watched.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but I jolt at the slam of a door downstairs.
“Sol, where are you?” Hawthorne’s voice infuses warmth back into the house, but it also unleashes something within me.