Page 132 of Bound By Fury

Lucas was supposed to meet me, but so far he’s MIA.

When I lift my cup to take another sip, I realize it’s empty.

“I’ve gotta get a refill!” I shout at Sam over the music, pointing at my cup. They nod and pass me the flask, which I tuck under my arm as I head back to the punch bowl. It’s quieter in the makeshift haunted house, and I’m breathing heavy, sweat gathering above my lip and the back of my neck. I tip more liquor into my punch quickly before winding through the props, stopping to admire some of the handmade decorations. I spot the raven I sculpted in art class from papier-mâché, a headless snake dangling from its beak, and I shudder, the visual holding so much more weight now than it did before.

Farther down the hall, the low murmur of whispering drifts to my ears. I pause, straining to listen. The voices sound familiar, and I find myself shuffling toward them.

It’s not okay to eavesdrop, but I’m self aware enough to know I’m not above it. I’m not above most things, apparently.

“Just come to the stupid dinner. Dad’s worried about you.”

“He’s not my dad. And I’m not coming to the dinner.”

Gooseflesh erupts along my arms when I realize it’s Lucas and Malachi.

“Come to the dinner,” Lucas pushes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

A thud and a grunt, but the words are softer in tone than I’d expect. “Why are you like this?”

“What are you not getting? You can’t change my mind.” Malachi’s voice is growing more distant like he’s walking away. I creep closer.

“You’re better than this… I know you are.”

“You don’t know shit, Luke. You think you’re being virtuous by trying to stop me, but you’re wrong.”

There’s a pause, like Lucas is thinking of what to say.

“Kai.” He releases a frustrated breath. “I just want what’s best for you.”

What are they talking about? I slide my feet across the floor silently, nearing the temporary wall separating us. On instinct my heart rate picks up at the thought of getting caught spying.

“You have no idea what’s best for me…” Malachi trails off hesitantly. When he speaks again, it’s so quiet that I can barely make out the words. “When I look in the mirror, all I see is him.”

I freeze, my hand pressed firmly to my mouth as I pace my breathing.

“But you’re not him,” Lucas’s voice is strained.

“Listen, I’m not doing this with you right now. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“Kai—”

The sound of retreating feet and an exasperated sigh.

My phone vibrates against my chest, and I pull it out. The photo of the fog-shrouded evergreen on my lock screen illuminates with a single notification. From Lucas.

sorry not feeling well

don’t think im gonna be able to make it :/

I clutch the phone against my shirt, smothering the light as firm steps barrel toward me. Flattening against the shadows, I hold my breath as Lucas storms past and into the next room, his gait slightly off. I recall him saying he sustained some minor injuries during football practice earlier this week.

I text him back.