Page 97 of Dead Vengeance

“Liam, what is it?”

“I don’t…” It shakes in his hand. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

He’s seen something. He’s been in some hallucination again. He’s not well.

I want to reach out for him, but the moment I try, his finger tightens on the trigger.

“Liam, did you go back upstairs?”

He’s staring at me, but he’s also not. His eyes have a faraway look, and he’s slow to answer. When he finally does, every manner of horror hits me head on. “I saw your room.”

My office. He went into my office. “I can explain.”

His eyes sharpen on me. “Then it’s real?”

Fuck. I’ve already said way too much. “Just put the gun down and talk to me.”

“So Fabian…” He looks like he’s going to throw up. “That was real too?”

More horror on top of the horror. My voice reveals the truth because my tired and harried brain can stop it. “You saw what happened?”

He blinks, wariness reviving in his eyes. “What did you do to him?”

“Liam, let me explain—”

“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts.

I raise my hands a little higher. “Whatever you’re thinking I did, that’s not it.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, tears at the corners of his eyes. “This whole place. I can’t…”

He’s fast, skipping down the stairs, leaving.

“Liam!” I call after him.

He turns once and once only. “If you come anywhere near me, I will shoot you.”

He means it. I can see it in his eyes, all terror, like a fox in a trap.

So I stand here on the doorstep of my haunted house and I let him go. Walk away from me and this whole mess. From this life I have no choice but to lead that’s put us both in danger.

How could I possibly expect him to forgive me for that?

twenty-nine

Revelation

Liam

The whole trip home was me trying to hold in my tears. If Fabian was on the train, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see him. I sat curled up in a corner, just hoping no one would want to come near me. From there, onto the Tube, and all the way back to our flat, I held it in.

The last thing I need right now is the third degree from my mother, but the second I walk in the door, there she is, keys in hand like she was about to go to work, disappointment branded on her face.

“What are you doing home?”

I take a second to stifle the tears. “I finished early.”

“Have you been fired?”