“Let him go first. I don’t want him to follow you.” He took a few deep breaths as he held me against him, then he said, “Maybe I should walk you home? It’s not safe in this part of Sandland.”
As tempting as that sounded, he didn’t need to worry about my safety.
“I came in my car. It’s parked just down the road. I’ll be fine.” I tried not to show that his fake but still hurtful words from earlier had affected me, but I was a rubbish actress and he knew it.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I just didn’t want him to think that… I don’t like the thought of him––”
“You don’t have to explain. I think I get it.”
I didn’t.
And the way his face twisted in pain, I guessed he was praying I didn’t either.
I watched with sadness as the boy I’d seen earlier, who spoke with pride about his artwork at the abandoned chapel, began to shrink in front of me, folding into himself and appearing smaller, fragile even.
“I should go.” I stepped back, holding my breath and waiting for him to say something to stop me, but he didn’t. He nodded, with heavy resignation visibly pulling on his shoulders, and he let me go. Any fight he might’ve had was long gone. For it to disappear that quickly, he must have very little reserves to call upon, and something told me his uncle was the reason for that.
I clicked the lock of the little wooden gate closed, leaving Finn where he stood on the path, and made my way to my car. Each step I took felt like I was wading through quicksand. I half expected his uncle to jump out at me and spill more bile into my ear, but the road was empty now. Eerily so.
Opening my car door, I could feel the all too familiar sensation of regret; like my heart was filling with concrete, becoming heavy and hitting my stomach, making everything seem gut-churningly hopeless. I started the engine and checked my mirrors before I pulled out, and there, with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the gate and leaning forward like his world had just come to an end, stood Finn.
“You’re breaking my heart,” I whispered to myself in the safety of my car, and the tears I’d kept at bay fell freely.
I wiped them away and pulled off. When I came to the end of the road, I indicated right, deciding to take the long way home. I needed the extra time to gather my thoughts and pull myself together.
I drove through the industrial estate, keeping my eyes ahead and regulating my breathing. It wasn’t enough, so I clicked the radio on, and James Arthur singing, “Say You Won’t Let Go,” made me bawl my eyes out all over again as I sang along to every word.
As I pulled up to a junction, I noticed a familiar graffiti tag on the side of an old building. Ahead of me was one of Finn’s masterpieces, and what I saw made my skin go cold and realisation blare within me like a siren. There was a little boy holding a blanket, about to wrap it around a little girl that sat cowering on the floor, wrapped up in barbed wire that pierced her skin and made her bleed. The boy wanted to protect her, make her safe, but his blanket wouldn’t help when she was already trapped within the grip of the fierce spikes. Finn’s work was always a reflection of how he felt, and what was happening in the world around him. And I knew right then that this was his sister, Alice, and Finn, in all his innocence, was trying to save her.
Dear God, what had happened to these two to make them like this? I prayed it wasn’t what I thought it was. But in my heart, I knew. There was a reason Finn Knowles kept people at arm’s length. And it wasn’t because he was cold or unemotional. He had too much emotion, he felt too hard, but he was hurting. He kept people away to protect himself, because anyone he’d let in had hurt him and his sister, and like a wounded animal, he couldn’t trust anyone. Not even me.
It was days later, and I still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that’d set up camp in my stomach thinking about what’d happened to Finn. What could still be happening right now.
Against my better judgement, I’d given him space. I hadn’t called, text or tried to see him. But I’d asked about him every single day to Brandon, Ryan, and Emily, hoping to find some small grain of hope that he was okay. Trouble was, they knew as much as I did. Finn didn’t want to share what was going on, and nobody, not even Brandon, had the power to get through to him.
By day five, I couldn’t take it any longer and I decided to do something to try and ease my desperate, painful thoughts. If I couldn’t see Finn, I could visit the next best thing, and maybe get a deeper understanding of the whole situation. Find out more about what made him tick.
Sandland Asylum was a rundown, creepy, eerie-looking building that stood on the outskirts of town. The grey walls and pillars that ran around the front of it were crumbling, decaying even, like they were giving up from the strain of having to carry the burdens that these walls held. An empty, desolate place, and if bricks could talk, they’d whisper tales that nobody wanted to hear. Stories that would keep you awake at night. Kind of ironic that Finn liked this place so much. His tale was as secret as the ones locked within these walls.
The security here wasn’t great and I was able to slide through a hole in the fencing that was doing a really rubbish job of keeping people out. When I got to the front doors, I could see the padlock to secure this place hung open, and I took it off, placing it carefully on the floor. The door itself was old and heavy, and it didn’t have a lot of give in it. Sliding my body through, I winced, praying my coat wouldn’t snag on a nail or anything and trap me here. But I made it through and sighed when the door jammed itself shut again behind me, locking me into the foyer.
There was a huge ceiling above me, and long ago it would’ve looked impressive, but now the coloured glass was shattered, dirty and covered in bird mess. I was thankful it was a dry day too, because I’d probably be wet through, judging from the holes up there.
I squinted, peering around me, and I noticed there was a corridor up ahead. So, I stepped forward, picking my way over the uneven flagstones and holding onto the wall to steady myself. I kept my eyes on the floor, but as I lifted them to look down the corridor, I gasped.
The walls were painted to look like an underground tunnel, and if you looked closely you could see creatures hiding behind the twisted roots that appeared so lifelike you could almost see them moving and spiralling through the dirt. Roots that grew like menacing fingers, invading from the world above, trying to make a grab for the magic that lived below. This was Finn to a tee. A perfect representation of him. He was the creatures that lived down below, hiding in his world, trying not to get dragged away by the roots of life that were clawing to get to him.
I swallowed down my sadness at the thought of it all, and took a few steps forward, running my hands over the paint as I did. I was in awe of his work. I was in awe of him. Nobody had an imagination like Finn Knowles. He was one of a kind.
I smiled as I got farther along, noticing his take on the Mad Hatter’s tea party hidden in a larger opening of what looked like a rabbit’s warren. The Mad Hatter wore his top hat with the price tag sticking out of it, but he wasn’t a cartoon character like the books. He was a boxer dog, sat in an armchair like the king of the castle, sipping tea from a cracked teacup. I laughed to myself, guessing this was a representation of Brandon. The boxer. He was crazy most of the time too, he loved drinking tea, and this suited him perfectly.
Right next to him, the March Hare sat, rolling his eyes at the Boxer Mad Hatter, and I assumed that was Ryan. Then there was the dormouse, asleep at the end of the table on what looked like a laptop. Zak.
“This is brilliant,” I whispered to myself, and moved closer to see what else I could find.
Further down the warren was the White Rabbit, holding his pocket watch, and as I looked closer, I noticed that the watch didn’t have numbers on it. The clock face spelt out the words, ‘Enjoy the Silence.’ So I guess that was Finn. The silent one.
Right next to the White Rabbit was Alice. But she didn’t have blonde hair like in most of the portrayals of her character
. This Alice had shorter brown hair. I tried to recall what colour hair Finn’s sister had and I was sure she was blonde, but maybe I’d gotten it wrong? I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she left school just as we were starting. She was older than us, and Alice Knowles was an enigma, much like her brother.
I traced my fingers along the warren as it twisted and turned, but just as I came to the Cheshire Cat, grinning in the shadows, I heard a voice that made me jump out of my skin.
“What are you doing here?”
I turned, flushing pink with embarrassment at being caught. Finn stood in the middle of the corridor, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his eyes boring into mine.
“I wanted to see what you’d done,” I said, trying to get my nerves under control. I was shaking so badly but I didn’t want him to see. I didn’t want to look guilty. “You told me about this the other day, but after I left, I wasn’t sure the invitation to come together was still open.” I was giving him a chance to tell me it was, that he’d wanted to invite me but hadn’t gotten round to it. I was always making excuses, but I was getting confused about who they were for. Me or him.
He sighed and looked at the world he’d created then back at me.
“It would’ve been nice to give you the proper tour.” His shoulders dipped slightly, like some of the tension was easing up, and then he folded his arms over his chest and smiled. “What do you think?”
I stepped closer to him so I was adjacent to the Hatters tea party and I pointed at it.
“Does Brandon know you’ve made him the Mad Hatter?”
Finn threw his head back and laughed, and just like that, all the tension I felt before disappeared. I loved it when he was like this. Care-free. Relaxed. Himself.
“Nobody has picked up on that yet.” He shook his head and rubbed over his bristly jaw.
“It’s pretty obvious.” I quirked my eyebrow at him, smirking. “A boxer. The tea. Even the way he’s sat with his legs like that. It’s so Brandon. You got them all pretty good,” I said, tracing my fingers over the other two characters.
“You get me,” he whispered to himself.
“I do.”
We stood staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, neither one of us saying a word. I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine. If he felt that tug that I did. I didn’t know what to do or say next. I was stuck in this spell. Finn’s spell. And I never wanted to leave.
Finn broke the ice, glancing down to the floor and biting his lip before saying, “The new piece I’m working on, its round the back of the building. You can’t access it from down there.” He pointed down the corridor behind me. “You have to go back out the front. Do you want to see it?”
Stupid question. I would literally watch paint dry if he asked me to.
“Sure,” I answered, keeping my excitement in check.
He turned and we both headed back towards the door. I had made the ridiculous decision to wear my boots with the heels today, and when he looked back and saw me picking my way through the rubble haphazardly, holding onto the wall for support, he put his hand out to me. My heart thumped hard in my chest as I reached out and took it. His big hand felt warm and soft wrapped around mine. It felt… perfect.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter if he was leading me to the Sistine chapel to show me what he’d done. I didn’t care. Every part of me was focused on him and how holding his hand––such a simple, silly act––felt like everything. It made me feel like I was floating across those flagstones, not stumbling like a bloody fool.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing down at me and squeezing my hand.
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded back, keeping my eyes on the ground. Words meant thinking, and I wasn’t capable of that at the moment. Not when my brain was flooded with endorphins from being connected to him in this way.
He pushed the door open and held it with his shoulder, so I could walk through.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him, and he smiled back as I stepped out onto the front step of the asylum.
And then he peered over my shoulder, looking off into the distance behind me, and his face dropped as well as his hand from mine. Every tingle, every spark of warmth I had felt turned back to dread.
The Finn from inside was gone.
His walls were back in place.
And my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest once again.
He was here.
The fucker had followed me here, and now he stood staring at me and Effy from across the street.
He had an evil smirk on his face and he appeared to be chuckling to himself. No doubt thinking up some sick way to get back at me. To get to me through her.
I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve noticed that he was following me. I needed to up my game.
“What’s wrong?” She was frozen to the spot in front of me, her eyes holding the sadness I hated seeing in them whenever I let her down. Her body was tense, like she was preparing herself for the onslaught of rejection she knew was coming her way. I felt like a complete bastard.
“You need to leave.” I put my head down and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, walking towards the fence where her car was parked and steering her away from the building and the evil glare of my uncle.
“Why? I want to see your work.” She jogged alongside me, her little legs struggling to keep up with my long strides. “You said its round the back. Can’t we––”
“You need to fucking leave!” I shouted, and she flinched at the loud tone I used and stopped still. Her arms crossed over her chest and she took deep breaths, glaring at the floor, trying not to react to my anger. I wanted her to though. I wanted her to fight, just not here where he could see. If he knew she was my weakness, he’d use her. Hurt her. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Fine. I’ll leave. But you need to stop pushing people away, Finn. People who care about you. The way you’re acting right now, it’s bullshit.”
“It is bullshit. Everything is bullshit,” I screeched, hoping he could see the act I was putting on for him from across the street where he stood. I was playing the part of the guy of who belonged to no one. The guy nobody cared about, even her.
Effy’s eyes blazed with fury, and I felt the weight of regret sink deep into the pit of my stomach. I was losing her. But what choice did I have?
“One day you’re gonna regret being such an arsehole to me,” she said and spun around, charging towards the fence where her car was parked.
“I already do,” I whispered to myself and watched as she got into her car and drove off.
When I turned to look at him, he was laughing and clapping his hands together like he was in the audience at an open-air theatre.
I couldn’t help it. I stalked over to where he was, ready for round two. I might not have my baseball bat, but I had enough anger to fuel my fists and enough rage stored up from years of pain that I was ready to unleash. But he didn’t stay around for the encore. He turned and left like the coward he was.
With a heavy, broken heart, I made my way back home, barging through the front door and running up the stairs, taking them three at a time so that I could get to my room faster and hide. I didn’t want to see anyone. I needed to be alone. But even alone I couldn’t shake the demons that had their grip on me, or the gnawing pain of regret.
Why was this ache in my chest overriding the pain in my body and my mind?
It seemed as if I was always destined to be this monumental fuck-up.
I didn’t want to be.
In fact, if I had my way, I’d be saying to hell with it and telling Effy exactly how I felt. Maybe, if I could sort out the virus currently destroying my life, I could make that dream a reality.
Maybe.
My life revolved around that bloody word and I’d had enough.
I paced my bedroom, biting my nails in an effort to numb the pain, but it didn’t work. I knew what would though. I needed to see her one last time today. Make sure she was okay
. After the way I’d spoken to her, I needed to apologise. It was the least I could do.
I grabbed my black hoody off the bed and pulled it on. Then I marched over to the door, willing myself to stay focused, but I stopped when I remembered what I had in the top drawer of my desk. I back-tracked and then came to a halt, staring at the dilapidated chest of drawers with half the knobs missing. I bit my lip, fighting an internal debate on whether giving this to her was a good idea or not. The irrational part of my brain won out, it always did, and I opened the drawer, grabbed the paper and slid it into the front pocket of my hoody. It was a peace offering. I’d made it for her and she deserved to see it.
Thirty minutes later, I found myself standing outside her house, staring up at the huge sash windows with their gentle warm glow that came from inside. Even her home looked inviting, as if it’d welcome you in and make all the bad things in the world go away when you were safe within its walls.
I’d made sure that I wasn’t followed this time. I would never lead him right to her door, but despite that, I still felt on edge. It was so cold that with every pant of my breath a cloud of steam formed like I was fuelling my own path to misery. A steam train on a track to self-destruction. A runaway with no way of stopping, especially when her garage door started to open, and her dad suddenly spotted me loitering like a goddamn loser.
“Are you okay there? Can I help you?” he called out, rubbing his hands together and then blowing into them to warm them up.
“Is Effy home?” I was surprised I found my voice and it sounded so clear. I appeared confident even though I was anything but.
“Yes, she’s home. I’ll just go get her.” He thumbed behind him and smiled, then disappeared back into his garage, leaving the door open and my heart hanging by a thread. I’d expected him to tell me to sling my hook and stay away from his precious daughter. Seems the reputation of the Renaissance men hadn’t proceeded me. Thank God.
Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland Book 3) Page 6