Scott looked down at himself. The hospital had given him some paper-feeling trousers to change into, but his shirt remained the same, bloody at the hem where he’d wrapped up his hand.
“Please,” he whispered.
Jay shot out of the room, leaving Scott with Carly, who padded over with a bowl of soup and placed it in front of him. He breathed it in, feeling slightly better.
“Thank you.”
She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry if you can’t manage much.”
Scott slurped his soup to fill the silence, hoping Thomas would return to him. As much as everybody was being lovely, he preferred a brooding Thomas over being the target of everyone’s concern.
Jay returned and threw a T-shirt his way. It held the heavy scent of Thomas, and Scott raised a questioning eyebrow. “This isn’t mine.”
“Put it on, you’ll see. It’ll make you feel better.”
Scott undid his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Carly looked like she wanted to dive in and help, but Jay subtly blocked her path. Scott’s shirt slipped from his arms to the floor, and Carly snatched it up, grimacing at the stain.
The T-shirt Jay had thrown at him didn’t appear to be clean, with its wrinkled appearance and the lack of fabric conditioner scent, but Jay kept nodding encouragingly until Scott slipped it over his head.
“Oh…”
He got it then. Thomas’s T-shirt was nothing special, no logo or print, just plain navy cotton, but it was soft, loose and smelled like Thomas. He curled one hand in the fabric pooling in his lap and closed his eyes as he exhaled.
“I doubt they’ll be long,” Carly whispered.
“Why are you so calm?” Scott asked, opening his eyes. “They’re getting rid of the evidence of a murder in the other room, and you’re stood here, smiling at me.”
“From what we heard, the guy deserved it,” Jay said.
Carly nodded. “In fact, he got off lightly after what he did to you.”
Scott ducked his head, wishing Jay had brought his hoodie instead so he could’ve hidden his face. One deep breath of `Thomas and he changed his mind; the T-shirt had been a great call.
“We’re all accessories to murder.”
Carly pouted. “I’m nobody’s accessory.”
“We’ve had many conversations on the group chat about what we’d do if we murdered someone,” Jay explained. “We’d stick together whoever it was.”
“Of course we were hoping it would be Thomas’s parents,” Carly added. “And we didn’t factor in John, but it’s perfect. Once John shits out the remains, Tim can use it to fertilise the flowers. He’s going to turn something ugly into something beautiful, isn’t that nice?”
Scott gaped down at his soup, wondering whether Carly had added something extra and he was currently hallucinating.
Tim popped his head into the room. “How is he?”
“If by he you mean me, I’m fine. Thank you.” Scott tangled his fingers in Thomas’s T-shirt. “How’s the clean-up going?”
“John slithered back into his tank and has curled up, looking rather full but satisfied. Thomas located Penelope and put her in a temporary tank, and Janice is clearing up the blood and glass.” Tim adjusted the hat on his head. “I got this back” – he lifted the safari jacket he was wearing – “this too.” He hesitated. “I’m…I’m sorry, Scott.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“He stopped my van. I thought he needed help, then next thing I know, he’s dragging me into the back, securing my wrists –”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He went to stand, but Carly pushed him back onto the seat.
“Once he had me tied and gagged, I assumed he was a burglar. I didn’t know he was specifically after you, and I couldn’t do anything.” Tim took his hat off and held it in front of his chest. He throttled it, twisting it one way, then the other. “I’m sorry –”
“It’s me who should be sorry,” Scott blurted. “I came here knowing some psychopath was stalking me.” He glanced at Carly, then Jay. “I put you all in danger. He could’ve targeted any one of you.” He turned his attention back to Tim. “You got hurt because of me.”
