And the Trees Crept In

joy

relief. I am so relieved to see him. I step closer, minding my feet on the floorboards, and then kneel down, quite close. His breathing is deep, but not steady. He is distressed, eyes flighty beneath the membranes of his eyelids. I want to wake him, to save him, but fascination stops me.

His breathing intensifies, his face twitching, and there is a fine sheen of sweat on his torso—which is bare. “Uhn… AH… No… No! No, please—NO!” And he wakes. He presses his fists to his eyes, teeth bared.

“Shit.”

I feel bad for watching him, and want to sneak away. But I’m right beside him, and when he lifts his head and sees me, his surprise becomes brightness, and then caution in less than a split second.

“Silla…”

I have to bite down on my lip to keep myself from calling his name.

He left you, Daddy’s voice says, the whisper floating beneath the crack in the door. Don’t forget that. He left you all alone.

Gowan crawls to me and wraps his arms around my waist, clinging to me so tightly that I gasp with the closeness of it. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting my urge to hug his head closer, kiss the top of it, tell him I’m here to stay. Instead, I get to my feet.

“You left me,” I say as he stands up too, his hands still on my hips, and his cheek twitches—the merest little flicker, but I know I’ve hit some kind of sore spot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice trembles and for a moment I think he wants to hurt himself.

I recognize self-loathing.

“I’m sorry, Silla, I am sorry—”

“How long have you been here?”

He shakes his head like he wants to rid himself of the things inside it. “How did you find me?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Tell me, Gowan. How long?”

“Since the night I left.”

“You’ve been hiding out in my library for three weeks?”

I find myself trying not to laugh, and he smiles slowly. “I didn’t want to leave. I just couldn’t.…”

There is a lot to say.

You stole my whisper note.

You left me a letter.

Green paper. Like the apple…

You left me apples.

To help or to torture?

Why did you leave?

I hate you for that.

I want to hate you for that.

I’m so happy to see you.

You came back.

“You never left.”

He shakes his head. “Are you… are you okay?”

I don’t think he’s really asking me that. “I’m fine. I just… I couldn’t sleep.”

I know how I’ve changed. How I must look. So much hair has fallen out. I’ve lost five teeth, my nails are thin and brittle, and my skin feels too tight.

Cathy’s creaking never reaches me in this room, but the memory of it is enough to make me clench my teeth—the ones that are left. Gowan spots it.

“What?”

Creeeeaaaak.

Stop it.

“I… I hate this place.”

Creeeeeeeeeak.

He doesn’t ask me why I don’t leave.

“Why don’t we kill each other?” I don’t know where the question has come from. But it feels important to ask.

I sit down, close to him, and wait.

“Silla, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. You kill me, I kill you. We’ll do it at the same time.”

He closes his eyes. “Stop it.”

“I’ll have to kill Nori first, of course. That would be difficult.”

“Silla, stop—” He gets to his feet, stumbles, and steadies himself on the bookcase. I watch the muscles in his back move as he breathes.

“Don’t say things like that to me ever again. Please.”

I stand, putting a hand on the middle of his back. “I’m sorry.” I’m tempted to kiss the back of his neck, taste his sweat.

I don’t.

“You just left,” I say quietly, as if this will explain my momentary weakness.

He turns to me slowly. “I promise,” he says, voice low, “I promise I won’t hurt you again, if I can help it. I promise you. You’re… vital to me.”

Vital. I don’t even know what that means. Still, I nod and I even manage a smile.

Some people don’t realize they are liars, even when they are.

“I saw some boxes in the basement,” he says after a while. “We could see if they have any food. Tins or dry goods.”

I glance down at the library door, firmly shut and locked. “I don’t want to go out there.…” I can’t stop hearing that sound… that fleshy thud! and the way I felt chased.…

“There’s a secret passage. I could show you.”

And he does.

It’s hidden on the ground floor, between two of the last bookcases. A gap so small and dark I missed it for years. Gowan slips in and pulls me after him. Close… we are so close. He never lets go of my hand. We walk a few paces and then there is a click as Gowan opens a door. He takes me down three steps, and then we are facing a staircase. Concrete, all of it, heading into the dark.

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