A scream tore up William’s throat, but as he opened his mouth to lose it, no sound came out.
Edward knelt in the middle of an upturned room, one hand clutching a large piece of broken glass, the other lying helplessly on his thigh, bleeding out across his trousers.
There was so much blood. It was everywhere. The walls were painted with it, and so was the floor. And, like the rest of the house, the wallpaper had been torn and shredded. It was like a wild creature had been let loose within Hanbury’s rooms and halls. Edward was that wild thing. It didn’t take a genius to realise that the destruction was his doing.
Wallpaper hung in large slithers, peeling from the wall, draped across an overturned reading chair. Patches of harsh scratch marks decorated the plasterboard and stone. Deep grooves had been worked into the flesh of Hanbury Manor, and the blood made it look like the house itself was bleeding.
“What… have you done?” William stumbled over his words, fighting the urge to be sick.
Edward hadn’t noticed him yet. He just knelt there, back heaving with his heavy breathing, shoulders quaking as he sobbed silently. Tears streaked down his pale face, the pupils of his eyes so wide there was almost no colour left to admire. He was looking ahead at the wall, specifically the portrait of Robert Thomas that was still propped up against it.
“Hewon’t stop. He just won’t leave me alone!”
Those first three words were all William needed to snap out of his stupor. He threw himself towards Edward, knees cracking against the ground, the pain meaning nothing compared to what was going on before him.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’m here,” William snapped, wrapping his arms around the terrified man before him. Edward’s entire body shook. He was a leaf caught in the winds of a storm, and William was the only thing with the power to stop him from being taken away. “No one is going to hurt you.”
No one but yourself.
Taking the piece of glass from Edward’s hand took considerable effort. His fingertips were blue, his palm a mess of jagged flesh. Even the glass was warm to the touch. William threw it across the floor, wanting to put as much distance between Edward and danger he opposed himself, as possible.
Guilt found him, thick and fast. It weighed heavily on William’s shoulders. If he hadn’t slept, he could’ve stopped this. How long had he been asleep for, letting Edward harm himself – lose himself to this madness?
“I need to call you an ambulance,” William said to himself and Edward, who still didn’t seem to hear him. It was a stupid idea but the only one he could think of. He withdrew his phone from his pocket, ready to dial the numbers. But the screen was dark. The phone was cold, like it hadn’t had battery in a long time. But it had, only minutes before. Didn’t it?
“Please,” Edward sobbed, tears and snot blending down his twisted face. “Please, stop him. I can’t take it anymore.”
It was if he was speaking to the portrait, pleading with it.
“There’s no one else here, Edward,” William said, drawing his fragile body into his chest, securing both arms around his chest as if that would stop him from moving. He could feel Edward’s heart through his back, thundering a canter so vicious that it was a surprise it hadn’t broken free from his ribs entirely. “It’s only me and you. And I’ve got you. Do you hear me?”
Edward continued looking endlessly into space and time.
“Edward, fucking look at me!” William pleaded, voice breaking. “Do you hear me? I’ve got you… nothing is going to happen.”
William couldn’t even convince himself, let alone the horrified Edward.
Perhaps the urgency in William’s tone reached Edward in the lost part of his mind. Slowly, Edward righted his eyes and met William’s gaze. His pupils dilated, some clarity returning to his once dazzling stare. William wanted nothing more than to fix hands on either side of Edward’s face and make it so he couldn’t look at anything else. But he found his limbs immobile. There was something in the man’s stare, a hollow, aching sadness that sang a tale so dark that it chilled William to the bone.
“I’msosorry, William.” Tears cut down his pale cheeks, lips cracked, eyes feral.
“It’s an old house,” William replied, not needing to look at the sheer damage another moment. “You don’t need to be sorry. But youdoneed to let me clean your hands. You’re bleeding a lot and I’m–”
I’m what? Frightened. Scared that you will catch an incurable infection, or die bleeding out on my floor.
“No.” Edward rocked his head back violently, suddenly fighting against William’s hold. “No, no. You’re not listening to me. No. No. I’m sorry–”
Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue as a new sound joined the heavy breathing and chest-breaking sobs. And it was coming from behind William. His back was to Robert’s portrait, he didn’t need to turn around to know the sound came from it. Edward heard it as well, snapping his eyes over William’s shoulder, the final dregs of colour leaving his handsome face.
“My glass,” Edward bellowed, frantic eyes scanning the room for where William had discarded it. “Where’s my fucking glass, William?”
Even if he wanted to reply, William was too focused trying to restrain Edward than waste energy on words.
Either way, he failed. With a great heave, Edward broke free. Spittle cast out pale lips as he continued to shout, turning the already destroyed room into more chaos as he searched for the shard of glass.
“Stop it.” William’s plea tore out of his throat. “Edward, you’re scaring me. Please. Just fucking stop!”
But Edward didn’t listen. He searched faster, more rushed and almost violent as the scratching sound continued. William didn’t know what to do except check for what had caused Edward’s crack in sanity. He spun on the portrait of Robert, ready to drive a fist through his canvas-made face. Instead, Edward wrapped iron-clad fingers around the frame, ripped it from the wall, and cast it aside.
