Boo's dreams are troubled that night. Blackened figures with terrible smiles and glowing eyes chase her relentlessly through an endless forest. Her ears are lit up with the sound of shrill screaming behind her as the beasts get closer, pounding along the forest floor on all fours like some horrifying demon. Branches catch on her clothes, ripping the fabric and scratching her skin. Her heart is close to completely bursting from exertion as she's startled awake in the early morning hours, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Harry snores alongside her, completely oblivious to her night terrors. By the time Boo is able to convince herself to sleep again, the darkness enveloping the room has lightened to a navy blue.

Later in the morning Boo emerges from Harry's bedroom, sleep-riddled and rubbing her tired eyes, and finds him intensely watching the news. As Boo settles beside him on the couch, the warmth of her thigh pressed flush against his, she sees Lena Whyte and Garret Fordham seated in front of a still photo of the fire from the night before.

" . . . several citizens have raised concerns of a serial arsonist within Jack Creek, although at the moment there is little evidence to suggest that last night's events are connected to the fire at Center Street Church several weeks ago. While police have confirmed that last night's fire was likely set intentionally, similarly to the fire at the church, there is not much else currently linking the two blazes. Anyone with any information regarding last evening's fire is encouraged to call the Jack Creek Police Department or pay a visit to the station."

Lena polishes off her speech with an award-winning smile and the segment changes to something a bit more light-hearted.

"They're stupid to think the church fire isn't connected to last night's," Boo mutters, a bit jaded. Harry slings an arm around her shoulders and presses a quick kiss to her temple as her words are swallowed by an exaggerated yawn. "Do you have any coffee?"

He rises swiftly to oblige her. She scoots closer to the middle of the couch, relishing in the warm spot he leaves behind. "Do you think Calum could be a serial arsonist?" he asks from the kitchen, eyeing her as he prepares the coffeemaker.

Boo shrugs. "Suppose, he's unstable as hell. I don't know enough about psychology to assume anything though."

Harry opens his mouth before going curiously quiet. Boo waits for a few weighted moments, hoping he'll divulge what's on his mind, before she sighs reluctantly. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

"I have kind of a crazy idea," he says hesitantly.

Her interest piqued, Boo sits up on the couch. "Go on then, share with the class."

The sound of coffee brewing and dripping into a pot provides a mundane edge to the unnerving sense of urgency beginning to encircle them. Boo's heart thrums with apprehension as Harry licks his lips. "Calum goes to the VA clinic, yes?"

Boo nods in earnest. "Yeah, we knew that already. That's where Nathaniel got the aconite."

Harry chews fretfully on the inside of his cheek. "Well . . . if Calum is a patient there, he's got to have a file, right?"

Her heart sinks, already knowing where he's heading. "No, Harry, we can't. That's too risky."

He groans in frustration. "Oh, now you're worried about risk? You'll break into the police department but not a clinic?" Boo rolls her eyes and bites her tongue. "Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Of course I am but not curious enough to risk prison," she bites. "Jack Creek was one thing, the department is the size of a matchbox. Harrisford is a bigger city with more people and bigger buildings, meaning there's going to be more people there. We're not skilled enough to get in unscathed."

He sighs dramatically. "Well then what next? Calum lied about where he was the night of the church fire, and now his bait hook shows up on someone you chased through a forest? Why haven't we gone to the police yet?"

Boo rolls her eyes, feeling her ire rise. "How many times do I have to tell you we can't trust the police here?"

"I don't mean Jack Creek," Harry implores. "Officer Reynolds seems like he really wants to help. I think it's time we hand this over."

"No," she says sharply. "We're not telling anyone else, not anytime soon. I shared enough asking him about Hosk last night."

"But he can get things we might need, like Calum's file. With the amount of times I've seen him at the clinic, I'm guessing he probably goes to therapy. Maybe he's confessed something to his therapist."

Boo hesitates, almost pondering the idea, before reality gets the better of her and she shakes her head fervently. "Absolutely not. I'm not involving anyone else."

"I just don't understand why not," Harry grumbles. "We've reached a dead end, Boo. We can't do anything else on our own."

"Y-Yes, we can!" she cries. "We can . . . we can read more of Nana's journals, we can talk to more neighbors, we can do more digging, but we . . . we cannot trust anyone else. Everybody has secrets here and obviously someone is willing to kill to keep theirs!"

Harry looks as though he's swallowing the urge to start yelling back. Driven by her irritation, Boo storms back into Harry's bedroom and begins throwing her things together, preparing to leave. She can hear Harry coming down the hall after her, demanding to know where she's going.

"I'm going home, Harry," she spits. "We clearly need a break from each other. We aren't on the same page anymore."

"Lita, don't do that, don't leave," he begs her, hovering in the doorway for a moment before he ventures into the room. Any trace of vexation has long flown from his voice. "It was just a silly idea."

"More like insane," Boo snaps.

He scoffs loudly behind her. "God forbid I try to learn the truth around here!" he bites back.

Boo suddenly whirls on him, still fueled by her irritation. "You want to talk about the truth, Harry? Let's talk then—where were you during the hurricane? Are you afraid of me finding something out, is that why you wanna give up now?"

His face immediately changes and he backpedals in confusion, sputtering to find the right words. "W-What, no, what are you talking about? I was at home during the hurricane!"

He was at home. Three doors away from Nana.

A lump forms in her throat. The muscles in her legs twitch and chills erupt across her skin; she wants desperately to continue leaving but now that she's opened this door, she knows she can't back down. "What about the fire at the church?"

Harry draws closer, now frowning in confusion. "I was with you, Boo, you know that."

She shakes her head vehemently. Her hands tighten around the clothes in her hand. "Y-You were next to me when people noticed it, but we were separated before it started. You were off doing who-knows-what."

"What are you saying?" he asks, his voice growing dark.

Boo takes an automatic step back, inching closer to the doorway. She ignores his question, still spearheading forth with her own. "What about the break-in at my house? Where were you?"

Harry's jaw clenches as he realizes where her mind is. "Why don't you just come out and accuse me if you think I'm guilty," he says quietly. "You know I would never hurt you, or anyone else."

"Wouldn't you?" she replies in a whisper.

His face contorts in mild concern. He pauses for a moment, seeming to debate internally. "Whatever conclusions you've just come to, I can assure you they're not right. You're just scared and I know we're getting desperate for an answer but think about what you're saying to me."

"I . . . I am," Boo answers hoarsely. "Every time something's gone wrong, you weren't with me. I have to ask, I have to know."

"Every time?" he echoes loudly. "What about the fairgrounds? I was with you the entire night!"

Her fear spikes at hearing the sharp edge in his voice. Without thinking, she turns and bolts into the bathroom, hurriedly locking the door behind her. She can hear his footsteps stumble and thunder along behind her as he tries and fails to stop her.

Fists bang against the flimsy wooden door. "Boo, open up!" Harry demands, fidgeting with the doorknob.

Every slam of the door against the frame, every loud rattle of the doorknob, sends Boo cringing back in fear. She glances quickly around the bathroom, desperate for a way out.

"Boo, this is crazy!" Harry cries, his voice muffled by the door. Boo spots the locked window above the bathtub and scrambles over to try and force it open. But it's fruitless; the lock is rusted shut. She's cornered, with no way to escape Harry's rages.

The door shakes behind her. "Boo!" Harry barks once more, his voice more angry than before. "Open the door!"

Frightened tears form in Boo's eyes at the monster she seems to have awakened. She cowers away from the door, the small of her back pressed into the cold porcelain lip of the bathtub. "Harry, you're scaring me," she cries.

The noise behind the door stops abruptly. A single tear falls from her eyes and she quickly swipes it away, waiting intently for something else to happen.

But it doesn't. After a moment, the shadows under the door shift and she hears a gentle thump as Harry slumps to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he says, much more gently. "That was the last thing I wanted."

Her voice catches in her throat as her guilt comes flooding up. "I-I'm sorry too," she whispers hoarsely. "I just want to know what's going on."

A pause. Boo exhales shakily and shifts to take a seat on the edge of the tub. "I really was at home during the hurricane," Harry says solemnly, so quietly that Boo almost doesn't hear him. "I was messaging my mother online during the storm. I can show you timestamps if you don't believe me."

Boo feels the muscles in her chest begin to relax slightly.

Harry sighs quietly. "Before the fire broke out, I was talking to some of Martha's old church friends. We were interrupted by Eugenia's speech, and then I went to go find you."

He pauses again. Boo silently wipes her cheeks, now struck with an incredible sense of shame. "I don't know who started the fire and I'm still sorry that we got separated. To think, for even a moment, that I'd lost you . . . it was unbearable. Please don't think that I'd ever do anything to jeopardize your safety."

Boo sniffles aloud. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she croaks. "I'm just so scared. I don't know what to think anymore, it feels like I can't trust anyone anymore."

"I know the feeling. But I really don't know what happened to Martha, and that's the truth," he says in a small voice. "She and I were friends before her death, I told you that. But you're right . . . I didn't tell you the whole truth."

Her ears perk up as her full lips slide into a frown. "What do you mean?"

"She came to visit me the night I moved in. We had dinner and talked, and I might've divulged a bit too much about my personal life. She mentioned that she was leading a group on Tuesday nights, down at the church."

He pauses to clear his throat, seemingly struggling to find his next words. Boo sighs in realization.

"I saw the chip, Harry," she admits softly.

"Then you know," he answers in a tight voice. "I had a very bad problem, it was part of why I left town."

Inside she's screaming, dying to know the full truth. But she knows she has to play this carefully; it's taken far too long to get to even this point, and asking the wrong question could drive Harry further away than before. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "What happened with Nana at the church?"

"The first night I went, we spoke about regret; about events caused by our disease, things we wished we hadn't done. Martha was trying to spin positivity onto each situation, telling us to take them as lessons for growth instead of remembering only the painful moments. I spoke to her privately after class ended and she told me she also had regrets."

What were yours?

Boo clears her throat, swallowing that question. "What were hers?" she asks gingerly.

"She didn't disclose much," Harry answers hoarsely. "Just that sometimes she wondered whether she was a good person. I think she was just trying to find common ground with me."

« • »

Harry doesn't have the heart to tell Boo it was so much more than that.

hello friends, i hope you are all keeping safe and healthy during this trying time. while the rest of the world seems to be improving, america is still struggling to cope with pandemic life and it doesn't seem like things will be improving anytime soon. i'm sorry it seems like i've abandoned this story, i promise i haven't. i've actually been thinking about it a lot, but every time i try to sit down and write, my mind is suffocated and i just can't.

thankfully it seems i was able to finally start breaking past that WB, at least a little bit lol. i'm sorry about the lack of gif at this time but i can barely write rn, let alone photoshop hahaa. i hope you haven't given up on me yet! please enjoy this. stay safe, much love xx