Ch.12: Julian
I Bury My Sanity With You Today, Tom.

Things never got better. Only worse, and worse, and worse. Thomas locked himself in his room most of the time. He wouldn't talk to Julian, wouldn't even look at him-as if Julian's existence was a burden, a pain, something awful.

Why? Julian always tried to ask. What did I do? Why do you hate me? What did I do wrong? I'll be better, I swear.

Thomas never answered.

How is it possible to hate the people that you love, Tom? I don't understand what that means.

No answer. No explanation. No closure.

It chipped at Julian's sanity, the perpetual confusion. An eternal state of wondering why Thomas hated him, if he really hated him at all. Maybe he was just lying. Maybe he was not. A million unanswered questions, roaring ceaselessly in Julian's head. He lived with a heavy heart. He went to work where he cared for sick, injured horses with a heavy heart. He came back home with a heavy heart.

And he slept in the shed in the garden with a heavy heart.

Julian wasn't sure if he was officially kicked out of the house or not, but he wasn't allowed inside more often than not.

Still, he stuck around for Thomas.

He never slept well in that tight space, curled on the floorboards with his arm as a pillow. When it rained, droplets seeped in through the old, worn wood, and he would wake up soaked. Sometimes the dust made him cough all night. And in the mornings, he'd wake up more tired than the night before.

He thought it couldn't get worse.

It did.

Today sixteen-year-old Julian woke up to the sound of screaming.

Wailing.

Julian's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright, panting, his heart racing. He left the shed and hastened towards the house. The hollering grew louder, but it was completely incomprehensible, like it was coming from someone so struck by tragedy they couldn't form words.

Julian knocked on the front door. The screaming continued. He knocked again. No one opened. He ran around the house, looking into the windows of the first floor, his hands shaking, his mind racing. No one was there. He stepped back, tilting his face up, gazing at the second floor. They must be in a room up there.

So Julian yelled for his parents to open the door. He shouted as loud as he could, but they wouldn't stop screaming and sobbing, while Julian's hands wouldn't stop shaking. His knees felt weak with terror. He knew something terrible must've happened to someone, and he hoped it was his dad or stepmom. He didn't care what happened to these two. But not Tom.

Please, he thought. God, let Tom be okay.

Sirens echoed across the entire hill, and a few seconds later, an ambulance parked in front of the house and paramedics dashed out.

"No," Julian said. "No, no, no." He turned around, looking back up at the second floor. "Tom? Tom!"

Only now did his parents open the door. His dad already carried Thomas downstairs, and he gave him to the paramedics, who took him into the ambulance. With tears rolling down her face, Julian's stepmom climbed into the ambulance as well. They left. They didn't even wait for his dad.

That was how fast it happened.

So fast that Julian could only stare, wide-eyed.

"What happened?" Julian asked, spinning around to face his dad. "Dad, what happened?" His voice trembled. His dad covered his face with his hands and his shoulders shook as he cried and cursed. Julian hurried inside and upstairs, his heart hammering. He peeked into Thomas's room, and there it was.

A noose, on the floor, haphazardly torn off.

Julian's breath raced. Not enough oxygen was going in, and lightheadedness hit him full-force, all at once. The room blurred, the edges of his vision black and bouncy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of that dizziness, but his head still spun. He opened his eyes. The world cleared up a bit. When he tried to step into Thomas's room, his heart on the verge of exploding, a hand grabbed his arm and towed him away.

"How," Julian mumbled as he was dragged back, barely using his own legs. "Why." The noose flashed in his head, and tears filled his vision. "God, no." He looked at who was dragging him. His dad. Julian frowned, reaching over and clawing at his hand with all the rage he'd buried. "Let me go! Take me to the hospital! I wanna see him! He could still be saved, right? You weren't too late, right?"

"You were late!" his dad shouted, spit flying out. "You! This is your fault! You did that to him! We were fine without you! Everything was fine before you were born!"

Then the older man threw Julian down in the dark, humid basement and slammed the door shut.

Julian stood right back up and punched the door. "Dad! Open the door! I wanna go with you! Dad!"

No answer.

Never an answer.

The front door was swung shut too. A few seconds later, an engine revved. The sound of the car faded as it left the hill. Julian wrestled with the knob for as long as he could, for as long as his legs could keep him standing. Even then, he dropped to his knees and kept trying to break it. The pitch-black darkness made it much harder, and his trembling hands didn't help.

He kept trying to open the door and yelling for his dad to come back even though he knew he'd already left, until that feeble bout of strength left his hands, left his entire body, and he leaned his forehead against the door, his fingers slipping off the knob. He burst into tears.

"Tom," he cried. "I wanted you to get better. I was still waiting." He curled against the door, pressing his side to it. The wood was cold against his temple, and he wiped his tears with his arm. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing wrong."

He didn't know how long he had tried to open the door or how long he'd cried, but at one point, his throat ached, and his eyes burned, and his energy drained. He passed out in his position by the door, and then woke up again, more exhausted than ever.

He cried for someone to let him out.

No one did.

He cried for someone to tell him if Thomas survived or not.

No one did.

So he was left there again, alone with the horror of the possibilities of what could have happened. If Thomas was alive or not. Unanswered questions. Always unanswered questions. Always terror and confusion. Always instability, always guessing and guessing.

Whenever he gathered a little bit of energy, he expended it on trying to break out of the basement. The lights were broken down here, so his vision swam in complete darkness. He exhausted himself too fast, and slumped by the door again. His tears dried across his face; he could distinctly feel the crust and the dirt.

Julian couldn't tell the time, but a day or two must have passed, because a single line of sunlight appeared across the basement-coming from the tiny thin split between the hatchway doors-and then faded again a few hours later.

The distant sound of a car was the only thing to send adrenaline into Julian's bloodstream. His heart skipped a beat. He jerked upright into a sitting position, then scrambled to his feet.

Thomas was back!

Everything was fine!

"Tom?" Julian's throat ached, but he pushed through, even though he felt like it was going to bleed if he strained it more. "Tom!" Hope pushed his lips into a smile. "Tom, I'm sorry!" He wiped his face. "If you hate me, I'll just leave, I swear. You'll never see my face again."

But Thomas didn't respond.

"Tom, I know you won't talk to me. But please, just this one time," Julian tried. "Please just tell me you're okay. I'm sorry I was annoying you. I'll never do that again."

Crying. He could hear his parents crying.

Julian froze to his core.

Happy tears, right?

They were just too happy that Thomas survived.

Julian called for them, begging them to assure him. He promised them he would leave and never ever come here again if they just told him Thomas was fine. They never did. They were still weeping.

The hope started fading, and soon Julian's tears fell too. He dropped to his knees and cried. And he kept crying and crying and pleading with someone to tell him what was going on. He never got an explanation. He passed out once more, his body unable to handle more pain, more anguish.

He woke up starving and thirsty and exhausted, and he croaked out a few more pleas.

Please just tell me what's going on. Please tell me if Tom is okay. I want to know.

Julian lived with the torment of not knowing what happened for a long time.

He didn't know how long exactly, but by the time someone opened the door, he had lost something. By then, his heart had eroded, and his soul had withered, and the terror had nipped at his sanity. Julian looked up at his stepmom's face, her red-rimmed, sunken eyes. The fresh tears. The hatred. The utter, raw hatred.

He knew then.

Holding onto the edge of the door, Julian forced himself to his knees, then stumbled across the corridor. It was day, and the light through the windows blinded him. He squinted against it. His legs were still asleep. He used the wall for support.

The front door was already open.

He stumbled towards it. Outside, he caught a glimpse of his dad walking towards the backyard, so he followed him.

A grave.

There was a grave in the backyard. A tombstone.

Julian's breath hitched.

"Tom?"

He dropped to his knees by the grave, unable to comprehend the situation. He touched the soil, then the stone with Thomas's name, and his chest caved in on itself. It broke his ribs and crushed his heart and the pain and the grief was choking the life out of him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. And he felt so useless and helpless because he could only cry. Because that was all he had been doing.

"Go away," his stepmom said. "Go away. You don't deserve to cry." She threw a stone at him. "Go away!" She sobbed. "You don't deserve to cry! This is all your fault! You drove him mad! I told you this boy was a curse! He cursed us and he cursed Thomas!"

Julian was barely even comprehending what she was saying.

They had buried Thomas here?

In the backyard?

His funeral...?

He looked between his dad and stepmom, horrified and appalled.

How long had he spent in the basement?

They didn't even let him be at Thomas's funeral?

Julian's chest heaved. He reached for the stone his stepmom had thrown and chucked it right back at her. "Shut up!" he shouted. "You did that! I wasn't even here half the time! You were the ones living with him! You should've noticed that he wasn't fine. You could've stopped this! You, you, you! Stop blaming me for everything!"

Gasping, his stepmom grabbed more stones and threw them at him. His dad lurched forward and grabbed him by the hair, then dragged him away. Julian fought and yelled and wept.

"You didn't even let me be at his funeral!" he cried. "You're sick! Tom always said he was sick, but it's you! You're monsters, both of you. No wonder he didn't want to live! I wouldn't want to be your son either! You're the ones who should die in the worst way possible! Monsters! You did this to him!"

And it went on for a few days.

Julian would cry at Thomas's grave, only for his stepmom to throw rocks and stones at him. He'd leave for a little while, then come back. Then his dad would catch him and drag him away. At some point it got so bad that Julian was forced to hide away for a few days until his parents would calm down a little, then he'd come back quietly at night when he could grieve in peace.

This plan worked for a while.

Until one night, when Julian came by, only to find an iron fence around one side of the backyard. His brows furrowed, and he gaped at the thing with disbelieving eyes.

They... They wanted to surround the entire house with a steel fence?

"I know you're coming here at night," came his stepmom's voice.

Julian turned towards her.

"Just wait until this whole fence is done, Julian. I won't let you step anywhere near his grave."

• • •

So yep, the fence around the captors' house was built to make sure Julian can't visit Tom's grave ☹️

Vote and comment to comfort Julian cz this chapter was horrible too 😂😭

This chapter is completely unedited! So sorry. I was really busy and a bit sick.❤️