Sever

by Jesse Grey

  The paranoia between them grew like weeds. Bridge spoke first. “You’ve seen Sumner?”

  Abram nodded emphatically, much to their chagrin.

  “Abe, that’s not possible.” Mercer shook his head. “Sumner’s been missing since that night. The police say he skipped town after what happened at the cemetery.”

  “No.” Abram said defiantly. “He’s here, taunting me.” Fresh tears replaced the drying ones on his cheeks. “I think he wants to finish me off.”

  “Sumner’s not here.” Bridge stated sternly.

  “Yes, he’s in the walls, he’s here!” Abram slammed his fists on the table with incredible force, scaring them.

  Lissa reached out and grabbed his hands, forcing them open so he could feel her palms pressed against his. Abram started sobbing, closing his eyes and shaking his head lazily. She looked to her friends on either side of her quickly.

  “Give us a couple minutes?”

  They gave her a small nod, standing up from the table and giving Abram an endearing gaze despite him looking at the back of his eye-lids.

  “It was good to see you, Abe.” Mercer grinned shyly.

  Bridge mirrored his actions. “We’ll see you soon.”

  The pair left the table then, heading over to where the orderly stood so they could wait on Lissa.

  She tightly squeezed Abram’s hands. “You are going to get through this. My mom says they have some amazing doctors here that can...that will help you move on from what you're going through.”

  “But Sumner’s here.” Abram shook his head, eyes still sealed shut.

  “Look at me.” He kept shaking his head, not listening to her. “Abram Michael St. James, look at me.” The uttering of his full name startled him enough for him to focus on her, remaining still and star-ing into her hazel eyes. “We survived Sumner and we will survive his aftermath. You’ll get better and everything will go back to normal.”

  “Lissa,” his voice wobbled with raw emotion. “I’m scared.”

  “And that’s okay.” she grinned. “You’re okay.”

  He sniffled. “Do you still love me, Liss? Can you even love someone who’s psychotic and dependent on pills to feel normal?”

  “Abe, I’ll always love you. This doesn’t change that.”

  Abram blinked and suddenly the scene changed, his eyes expand-ing. The person in front of him began to shapeshift into another form. Lissa slowly faded into Alex, but still smiling at him, still holding his hands while they sat at a table in Arclan Asylum. It was as if there was a sputtering glitch in the framework of reality, a digital distortion of what was and wasn’t real.

  “This isn’t right.” Abram said, suddenly hyperaware. “This already happened.”

  All sound left his ears as Alex started talking, Abram looking around while the scene of Arclan blurred around him until they were underneath it, in the underground passage, still sitting at the table across from Alex as he talked silently.

  “Alex?” he tried to scream, but it was as if everything around him was on mute.

  Sumner appeared from behind Alex, running towards them in sickening slow motion and away from the right sided passage. He tried to yell for Alex to move out of the way, but it was useless. Sumner pointed a gun in their direction, squeezing the trigger in ag-onizing slowed movement.

  The sound around him resumed as the deafening sound of a gunshot shook Abram awake from the memory turned nightmare, causing him to quake about his bed violently.

  He sat upright in his bed, taking him a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t back in Arclan or underneath it. Seeing familiar settings around him, Abram knew everything was okay and he was safe, letting out an exasperating sigh of relief. He was okay, even if sweat pooled on his forehead, slick as his now nauseous stomach.

  A flash of movement set him on edge until he realized that it was just the TV at the foot of the bed and not a former friend turned at-tempted murderer. He cursed under his breath, tired of feeling on edge. Needing to relax, Abram grabbed the remote hiding between the sheets and turned up the volume on a rerun of some syndicated TV show to just watch and chill out to when the show was hindered by the start of the twelve o’clock noon news.

  “In top local news, Hendrick Shadows, father of teenage fugitive Sumner Shadows, issued a statement this morning, just two weeks after his son’s reappearance at his mental institution, Arclan Asylum, that resulted in one injury. Mr. Shadows had this to say.”

  The cameras switched to showing Hendrick just outside of Ar-clan Asylum in front of a huge crowd of reporters and other by-standers.

  “Contrary to society’s opinion of my wife and I, we have never helped my son in staying around Armor Falls, nor did we have prior knowledge of his whereabouts before the incident here two weeks ago. I would like the public to know that I am,” he paused to cough, keeping his tone steady and determined to keep his composure. “I am considering closing Arclan Asylum given the circumstances. During this difficult time, I urge the police to lift their presence around my establishment for the safety and well-being of my patients. Thank you for your time.” Photographers snapped pictures feverishly while reporters tried to get Hendrick to answer some more questions, but he went off camera and left the front lawn of Arclan Asylum.

  “In response to Mr. Shadows’ declaration,” The news anchor popped up on screen again. “Detective Alston Dagger, the lead inves-tigator in the ever changing and all-consuming Sumner Shadows case, released his own statement concerning the details of Mr. Shad-ows’ press conference.”

  The scene on the screen changed until it showed Detective Dag-ger holding his own press release at the exterior of Armor Falls Po-lice Station. Even more people were attending this declaration than that of held by the head of the Shadows family.

  “We will be diminishing police presence at Arclan Asylum for the health of its staff and patients but this investigation is far from fin-ished. Sumner Shadows has gotten away for the very last time and I will not stop hunting him down until he’s rotting inside a jail cell. Thank you.”

  Dagger walked away with a few officers as reporters beckoned to have a word with him while he swatted away questions and cameras that pleaded for his undivided attention.

  Abram disgruntledly grabbed the TV remote and turned it off, suddenly needing a reprieve from the circumstances that enveloped him, retreating back under the blankets of his bed and deciding to go back to sleep instead of dealing with the shambles that made up his life.

  “You’re a lucky guy, Mercer.”

  He nodded at his doctor. His parents stood to the right of him and Kirby sat in a chair beside him, all while he laid in a hospital bed.

  “He’s going to be okay?”

  Dr. Meredith Torres smiled at Kirby and nodded. “Luckily when he was shot, it was far away from the clavicle to not shatter it com-pletely. It was fractured, but his initial surgery fixed that and it’s heal-ing well so,” she looked at Mercer. “You’re good.”

  “No more surgery?” Clay Meadows asked, consumed with con-cern.

  “No.” Dr. Torres grinned, eyeing Mercer then. “You’ll be sore for sure and you’ll have to use a sling for a little while, but you’ll be fine.” She suddenly looked uncomfortable as she eyed Mercer and then Kirby before looking back at her patient. “That also means no sexual activity until it’s completely healed.”

  Both teens heard his parents’ breathing hitch to new heights at that statement. Blushing slightly, Mercer looked to Kirby, who just smiled awkwardly, then focusing on his doctor once again.

  “That’s not going to be a problem, doctor.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Clay said with a heavy sigh of relief.

  “Thank you, Dr. Torres.” Araec Meadows nodded. “And thank you for personally doing the check-up. We know you must be very busy, but it means a lot to see a familiar face from the night of the shooting.”

  Dr. Torres beamed. “Of course. Plus, I like to check up on my own handiwork.” she winked, causing them all t
o smile briefly.

  “Thanks for everything, Dr. Torres.” Mercer gave her a final grin.

  “Someone will be by shortly to wrap up your paperwork.”

  Kirby’s phone bleated as Dr. Torres disappeared behind doctor-only permitted doors. She glanced at the screen and Mercer watched her eyes cloud over, retreating from recognition.

  “I have to take this.” Kirby gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

  As she headed down the hall, his father patted his arm. “Is Bridge coming over soon?”

  “He better be,” Araec scoffed. “I’ve already got too much maple balsamic pork tenderloin marinating at the house.”

  Mercer chuckled. “I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him today, but I’ll text him.” he paused to look over and see Kirby talking harshly on the phone, looking very adamant and angry. Adverting his attention back to his parents, Mercer smiled up at them. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me and Kirby hang out and even more for letting Bridge come and move into the guest room. It really means a lot to him, and to me.”

  The couple smiled. “The only reason we didn't take him in soon-er was because of the lockdown.”

  Clay jumped in. “We’re still really scared about everything, espe-cially with Sumner still at large. But keeping you from your friends caused you all to seek Sumner out on your own and we don’t want that to happen again.”

  “Trust me,” Mercer interjected, a leaning lie turning his cheek. “A bullet is a hell of a lesson.”

  “Since we got rid of the lockdown earlier this week, we don’t see why Bridge can’t at least be staying in a more familiar setting.” Clay concluded.

  “It’s just awful about his parents, still missing. We just want him to be as comfortable as possible.”

  Returning from the hallway, Kirby joined them once again, only to grab her purse and give Mercer an apologetic look.

  “I have to go, I totally forgot about some homework.” She gave his parents a warm smile. “But I’m still invited to dinner, right?”

  Araec laughed, as if he were slightly annoyed at such a ludicrous question. “Of course.”

  Not convinced by her reasoning, Mercer looked up at her inquis-itively. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Absolutely.” Kirby assured him, nodding emphatically. “I’ll see you in a couple hours?”

  Clay’s cell phone rang then as Kirby smiled at them again, Clay waving goodbye as he stepped away to take the call.

  “Alright,” Mercer told her. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Leaving them, Kirby faded from their collective view, Mercer turning to his dad with a raised eyebrow.

  “Did that seem off to you?”

  “What makes you think that?” Araec countered.

  Mercer shrugged. “Just seemed a little weird, I guess.”

  Ending his call, Clay returned to his family. When Mercer saw the bubbling confusion spreading across his father’s face, he quickly prompted a question.

  “Dad?”

  “Mercer, is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

  “Clay?” Araec looked just as confused as Mercer did. “What’s go-ing on?”

  “That was Nova.” Clay went on, aligning emphasis on his son. “Abram’s not answering his phone and she just wanted to know if he was planning on staying at our house, like he had the past few days.”

  “What?” Mercer exclaimed wildly.

  “What’s going on, Mercer?”

  “Are you trying to cover for Abram or something?”

  “No. No, I have no idea what’s going on.” he shook his head. “It’s not like I’m hiding him in the basement. Abe’s been MIA since the lockdown was lifted. None of us have really heard from him except for a few one worded texts.”

  “Then where the hell is he?”

  Bridge finished putting another box into Willa’s car, glad that they were almost done packing up the room he had been using at Paige’s house. He was at a loss for words over the fact that Mercer’s dads were letting him move in with them. Paige was nice enough, but no longer living in the house of the woman whose fiancé he had once slept with was a massive consolation to him.

  “This is the last one.” Bridge turned to see Willa carrying a box full of his bedding, which he hustled to take from her.

  “Thanks for helping me pack and taking me over to Mercer’s.” Bridge gathered as he placed the last box in the backseat of her car.

  “No problem.” Willa smiled brightly.

  Paige came out of the house then, looking at Bridge warmly as she walked over to them.

  “You got everything?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Bridge said, moving to close Willa’s trunk. He walked back over to her, standing awkwardly and feeling very out of place as he looked her over. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. I really do appreciate it.”

  “It was nothing,” Paige waved him off. “It was nice having some-one else in the house. Although, I have to say, it’ll be nice to see more of Ben around here.” she chuckled.

  Bridge laughed uncomfortably. “Right. Um, anyway, thanks again.”

  “I’ll see you around school, Bridge. Have fun at Mercer’s!”

  He just smiled and waved goodbye to her as she retreated back inside of her house.

  “Why was that awkward?” Willa said, scrunching up her face.

  “No reason.”

  Bridge tried his best to shrug it off and hide his residual jealousy. He knew that he had no right to be. Paige was Ben’s fiancé, not him. And he knew that he was the one who had, rightfully, ended things between them. But ever since the night at Arclan Asylum two weeks ago, all Bridge wanted was to have Ben reassure him that it would all calm down and it would all be okay. And he really needed to find a way to shake that feeling.

  “Hey.”

  Willa and Bridge turned around, seeing Alex’s smiling face while he approached them.

  “Saw you from the house. Got everything?”

  “That should be everything, yeah.”

  A sleek black BMW pulled up right in front of the grand Llewel-lyn house, the three of them looking to see a giggling Faith get out of Straton’s car. She waved goodbye to him as Bridge looked at Alex.

  “They got back together?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Willa grinned. “I’m gonna go talk to her for a sec then we’ll go, okay?” She squeezed Bridge’s shoulder before she ran over to Faith and talked to her on the Llewellyn’s front porch.

  Alex turned back to face Bridge. “Yeah, Faith and Straton made up pretty quickly, and even quicker once our parents eliminated the lockdown.” he laughed.

  “Gross.”

  Laughing together, Alex just shook his head. “Exactly.” A glaze formed a grainy film over Alex’s eyes all too quickly. “Not to sour this conversation, but Mercer mentioned that you hadn’t looked at those papers you found in the secret room at Arclan yet.”

  Bridge affirmed as much. “After everything that happened with Mercer, I sort of forgot about them and pushed them from my mind.” he sighed. “I guess the time to address them has arrived.”

  “Do you even know where you packed them?”

  “I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I stashed them in my back-pack so I wouldn’t lose them.”

  Going into Willa’s car, Bridge reached into the backseat and pulled out his plaid backpack. He unzipped it, searching through it for the papers they had found.

  “What the hell?”

  Alex’s brow arched as Bridge went from leisurely searching through his bag to wildly ripping things out of it in a panic.

  “Bridge—”

  “They’re gone!”

  For a split second, staring at each other was all they could think of to do. Bridge picked up his discarded items, Alex slowly overcoming his silence.

  “Are you sure you put them in there?”

  “Alex, I’m sure. I put it right here in my front pocket. This thing never leaves my side at school. T
here’s no way someone got to it there.”

  “So, what, someone broke into Paige’s house and took it before we could even see what they said?”

  “Someone’s been messing with us about the subject of murder, is breaking and entering so farfetched of an idea for them to commit?”

  Alex’s phone cut off a response from him, chiming loudly.

  “It’s a text from Mercer.”

  Putting their theft threat on pause for a second, Bridge’s alert lev-el attempted to overtake his senses. “What does it say?”

  His nose crinkled and collapsed on his face. “Abram’s been telling his parents that he’s been sleeping over at Mercer’s, but apparently he hasn’t been.”

  “What?”

  “Mercer wants to know if I’ve heard from him.”

  “Have you?” Bridge questioned.

  “Ever since the lockdown ended, he’s been so distant. You ha-ven’t heard from him?” Alex dialed Abram’s number and quickly pressed the phone to his ear.

  Shaking his head, Bridge’s worry spiked evermore. “Not since then, no. I just thought he was still dealing, like he told us that first day back after what happened at Arclan.”

  “Shit,” Alex huffed, hanging up. “Straight to voicemail.”

  “What do we do?”

  In a fiercely fast manner, a thought struck Alex so hard he feared it might affect his balance. Luckily, he kept himself grounded with reassurance. “You get moved in, tell Mercer what’s going on with the papers.”

  “Should we tell Willa about Abe?”

  Alex shook his head. “Not yet. Just get her and head to Mercer’s.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to find Abram.” Alex bobbed his head phonetically, totally convinced that he’d prove victorious. “I think I might know where he is.”

  Abram’s screams woke him up from a very unnerving attempt to try and solidify some sleep. He’d been dreaming of that night beneath Arclan, when Sumner had shown up and shot Mercer and, once again, had gotten away before the police could apprehend him. All of his nightmares had been distorted memories of his life ever since then. And it wasn’t aiding his already fragile psyche.