Chapter 21
Zwierek came back long after I’d fallen asleep. It still surprises me that I managed to sleep at all that night.
The days that followed passed as if nothing had happened. I constantly felt like there was a huge fucking elephant standing in the middle of the room, but somehow I seemed to be the only one who could see it. And if Zwierek could too, he definitely wasn’t letting me know about it.
I didn’t even know why I felt the need to talk about it.
It wouldn’t have changed anything anyway.
Still, something about it wouldn’t sit right with me.
How could he just walk straight into a murder scene and not have a single follow-up question?
No interest in what had happened or why.
The only thing he seemed to care about was fixing the problem.
I caught myself staring at him more than once, that urge to talk it through pushing at me, but I couldn’t get any words out.
I don’t know if it was the years of not speaking that held me back, or the thought that saying it out loud would make it real, but either way, nothing came.
Part of me also knew it would’ve felt wrong to push that conversation on him.
Zwierek had already saved my ass twice by then after all, so I should just be grateful and leave it.
I was sitting there lost in the same endless spiral of thoughts about everything that had happened when he suddenly turned his face toward me, and I saw a dark liquid sliding from his eyebrow, running down his face before dripping from his jaw onto his T-shirt.
He didn’t wipe it away, didn’t acknowledge it.
I remember thinking he hadn’t noticed. Which doesn’t make sense now.
It didn’t really make sense then either, if I’m being honest with you.
But I stood there, watching it drip from his chin and I waited for him to react or explain it.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” I asked.
He looked at me like I’d said something mildly interesting, not like I’d just pointed out the obvious.
“What?” There was a brief pause, just enough for it to feel off.
“Your head,” I said, slower this time. “You’re bleeding.”
He reached up then, fingers brushing his forehead like he was checking for something he wasn’t convinced was there in the first place. When he pulled his hand back, there was blood on it. He stared at it as he tilted his head. Then he shrugged.
“It happens sometimes.”
That should’ve bothered me more than it did. Actually, no, that’s not true.
It did bother me. I just… didn’t stay with it.
That’s the part I need you to understand.
Things stopped… sticking. Thoughts came in clear, and then just slipped away just as fast as they arrived.
Like trying to hold water in your hands.
You feel it for a second, and then it’s gone.
And you’re left standing there wondering what you were even trying to hold in the first place.
You’re listening carefully now, aren’t you, little Ghost? Good, I like that.
The cut turned into a scar over time. It split his brow just enough to make something about his face feel… wrong. Like symmetry had been broken on purpose. It made him look off somehow. Harder to read and harder to place.
I caught myself staring at it sometimes.
It suited him, actually. We didn’t talk about it again, not really.
Days bled into each other after that. The cabin, the trees, the same paths worn into the dirt from walking them too often.
We built something that almost looked like routine again, if you didn’t look too closely. Food, sleep, silence. And him.
Always him.
Sometimes I’d turn to say something and he was already looking at me.
Not like he just looked up, like he had been watching me the whole time.
Time in that cabin felt a bit like being in limbo, like some other version of reality.
Living that cut off from everything else, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the forest, was enough to make anyone start losing it a little.
“What now?” I looked up from the book in my hands.
“What do you mean?” I asked back.
He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that scar catching the low light in a way that made it look deeper than it was.
“Who’s next?” There it was. Just like that. I didn’t say anything, I just looked at him. Tried to figure out if he was serious, if this was another one of his fucked up ways of pushing me. But no, he was serious.
“You’re joking,” I said finally. He didn’t smile.
“Bartosz wasn’t the only one,” he went on, voice steady, almost bored.
“And she sure as fuck wasn’t either.” He hesitated, then continued, something more controlled in his tone.
“Honestly it’s impressive. The amount of damage one life can collect. Like a group project no one asked to be a part of.” A short breath left me, not quite a laugh but close enough.
“I’m not going on some fucking killing spree just because it gets you off,” I said, shaking my head, pushing myself up from the chair.
That did it. That tiny curve at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t deny it, didn’t confirm it either.
Just let it sit there between us. Then he changed direction completely, like he always did.
“You were in a hospital, right? When you were younger.”
It hit faster than I could imagine. White walls, the smell of alcohol and rubber, cold hands in plastic gloves. Hands on my shoulders, voices telling me to breathe, to calm down, to cooperate. I blinked. He was still there, watching me.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I thought so.”
He pushed off the wall and walked past me. Close enough that I could feel the shift in air, the heat of him, the faint metallic scent that never really left anymore.
“I’ll find him,” he added, almost casually. Like he was talking about tracking something small, something insignificant.
“When I do… we’ll figure it out from there.”
Find him? That should’ve meant something else. It should’ve sounded insane. Unreal. Too far. But it didn’t. That’s the part that matters, because I didn’t ask who, I already knew. And worse, I felt something move under my skin at the thought of it. Anticipation dressed up as curiosity.
You feel that too sometimes, don’t you, little Ghost?
And don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re lying.
I felt a shift deep in my core, a small one, but that’s all it takes.
Because once something like that finds its way in, it doesn’t leave.
It waits. And the worst part? You start waiting with it.