In all the hours that have passed, including when Sam made us perform for him, Liam has been my rock. To feel him wavering upends me.
As the hours tick by, the thirst grows to a burning pain every time we talk. We’ve found that water drips down the pillars we are attached to, and in our desperation, we lap at it, one drop at a time, trying not to think about where it originates. It tastes metallic, like rust, but we welcome the moisture anyway.
‘My mouth tastes like metal,’ I say.
‘Mine too.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s better than dehydrating, darling, drink up,’ he says.
I lap at it until my tongue aches from the rough metal, then lean my head back against the post and close my eyes.
‘When we get out,’ I say. ‘I’m never going to take tap water for granted again.’
‘When we get out, I’m going to make you carbonara, and you’re going to eat every bite.’
I open my eyes.
‘That’s a good motivation to survive,’ I say. ‘As long as you share it with me. I was beginning to think you never ate all those times we hung out with you masked.’
Trailing my fingers over his wrists, I wince at the torn flesh. They are raw from the chain, the skin weeping.
‘Stop trying the chains,’ I say.
‘I’m not?—’
‘I hear you at night.’ I hold his hand, away from the damage. ‘You need to stop before it gets infected.’
He looks at our hands.
‘I can’t just sit here,’ he sighs.
‘Liam, you’re not just sitting here. You’re keeping me from going completely mad.’
He wraps an arm around me, our chains clinking as we adjust.
‘Say it again,’ he whispers against my hair.
‘Which bit?’
‘My name, darling. I’ll never tire of it on your lips.’
‘Liam,’ I say.
He closes his eyes.
I hold his damaged hands as carefully as I can and sit in the cold as his breathing evens out. Where our bodies meet, warmth gathers, and I snuggle into it to try to stave off the chill.
By what I assume is the next morning, I’ve come to the conclusion we’re going to die here.
Together.
I don’t say it aloud, but the thought lingers like a ghoul in the dark. I think about Ellie coming home to an empty flat and my wrecked bedroom and what that would do to her. I think about my mother and father, and how disappointed yet vindicated they’ll be, having warned me about this dodgy area of town.
‘I love you,’ I whisper into the dark.
When he swallows, I can imagine the dry ache in his throat.
