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“But…?”
“But he’s my friend. And friends stick together through rough times. They fight for the good times. They prop each other up and support each other until everyone is happy and safe.”
“What if that’s never?” I asked. “What if this is what the rest of your lives look like?”
“Then we adapt,” Owain said. “We adjust and we make the best of it.”
“Owain…”
“People live with chronic conditions all the time. You learn to manage.”
“Being allergic to gluten is not the same thing as turning into a raging killer every time someone mentions your old workplace,” I argued, trying not to raise my voice.
“I’d turn into one if I wasn’t allowed bread,” Bronwyn said.
“You’re already not allowed bread,” I shot back. “You’re literally dead.”
She levelled me with a look that made my balls retreat into my body.
“I might have to start working on my raging killer skills,” she said, staring right into my eyes.
A soft ping came from behind me and Owain nodded. “I agree,” he said. “This is not the time. We need to help him.”
“Does he want to be helped?” I asked.
Owain paused before answering. “Everything we do to contain him was his idea. He did the research, he put things in place, he made sure we practiced and knew what everyone had to do when things like this happened. I know he did it to keep us safe but…I have to believe there is a part of him that wants to be helped.”
I watched his face fall. I watched him turn away and get that distant look in his eyes. I followed his gaze and realised he was looking at the door, his expression sad and wistful and full of so much yearning I felt my own heart ache for him.
Owain wanted to save his friend. He wanted to find a way to help him exist without the monster lurking inside and threatening everything they had built. And he needed my help.
“Can I talk to him?” I asked, and they all stared at me, eyes growing wide and mouths slack.
“To…?”
“To Andrew,” I said. “Do you think he’s settled enough to talk to me?”
“I can…I can ask,” Owain said. But before he moved he gripped my wrist and stared at me. “You have to promise you won’t hurt him.”
“I’m not going to hurt him.”
He extended his little finger and wiggled it in front of my face. “Pinky swear.”
I sighed but wrapped my finger around his. “I swear.”
“Okay.” He got up from my lap and walked over to the door, slowly, quietly. He stood in front of it and placed his palm on the rough surface. He leaned his head in and pressed his ear right next to his hand.
“Andrew?” he called softly, barely above a whisper. Then he waited, patient and still and calm like I’d never seen him before.
The rest of the squad stood frozen, ears perked and lips pressed into thin ghostly lines. Popty’s shadow was compressed into a tight little ball of black that hid behind my back, turning me into a human shield. For a ghost. What the fuck even was my life anymore?
The hallway descended into silence so oppressive it was almost hurting my ears. And then there was a rustle.
A tiny slip of paper slid under the door.
Owain’s face brightened as he crouched and picked it up. He skimmed it before turning it to the rest. The moment they saw it, their demeanours changed.
Bronwyn exhaled and dropped her spatula on the floor. Harri and Larri unwrapped the chain from around their fists and sat down with their backs to the railing. Barth appeared. From somewhere. Popty exploded from my back into a full-on eclipse across the hallway.
