The Truths we Burn (The Hollow Boys Book 2)
The Truths we Burn: Act 2 – Chapter 33

Rook

Rook,

If you’re reading this, Frank is dead, and I have followed suit.

I’m only one sentence into this, and it’s already sappy. I didn’t even want to leave a note. I figured my suicide would be pretty straightforward.

I’m miserable without her, and knowing that her killer is in the ground has soothed something in me, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

I didn’t leave a note for anyone but you, and I need to tell you why.

First, you’re the only one my parents actually like. They’d never say it out loud ‘cause they love and support my choice in friendships. My dad still hasn’t forgiven Alistair for punching a hole in the drywall, and Thatcher gives my mother the ‘heebie-jeebies’ (her words, not mine)

But they like you, and I know that when I’m gone, you’ll be there for them. I’d like you to remind them that they did everything right.

They gave me love. A home. A life.

They did everything they could to help me with my schizophrenia, and I’m thankful for that. Tell them I love them, and this decision wasn’t made selfishly.

I genuinely believe they will flourish with me gone. After they mourn and they begin to let me go, they will feel the weight of my mental illness be lifted. No more doctors, no more scheduled medications or constant worry. They will be free.

Just like I am.

You don’t have to, but I know you will keep an eye on Levi and Caleb. Just make sure they don’t get into too much shit, and if they do, teach them how to not get caught next time.

Thatcher and Alistair didn’t get a letter because they knew this would happen, and I think they already prepared for it.

You tried everything to deny it to yourself. To prevent it.

They didn’t get a letter because while they will grieve and hurt for my loss, they won’t blame themselves.

Not like you will.

So this is why it had to be you, because I want, need you to know this was not your fault.

It wasn’t your fault I had schizophrenia, it wasn’t your fault Rose died, and I know you’ll fight it, but there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.

You did everything you could, and while it was more than enough, it was still never going to be enough.

Do not punish yourself for my death. You were one of the only things that made my life worth living, and if you fuck my memory up with your guilt, I will kick your ass.

Know that I’m at peace. That I’m happy. I’m free, Rook, and I’m with her.

And one day, when you’re well into your nineties, I’ll be with you again too.

Don’t lose yourself trying to search for the why, especially not after I wrote this entire gaudy thing.

Never lose your fire.

I’ll meet you at the Styx.

– Silas

I reread the letter one more time, grateful that I’ll never have to follow up on anything inside of it.

Flicking my Zippo, I take the orange flame to the paper, watching it grab at the thin material and start to eat the edges away.

It burns quick, even faster when I drop it into the trash can next to my bed.

One week.

That’s how long Silas has been gone. Still alive, but still gone.

I’d refused to let his family send him to Monarch’s facility after what Sage had told me about that place, and they had eagerly agreed to send him somewhere near Portland. Not to get him away from the humiliation of Ponderosa Springs, but to ensure he got the correct care he deserved.

We weren’t sure how long it would take for Silas to come back from his psychosis or how long he’d need to be hospitalized. It could be a few weeks, it could a few months, it could be a year. All we knew was we were prepared to stand by him until he got the help he needed.

The doctors were hopeful that with cognitive therapy and a new set of medications, he would be back to his old self in no time, but there was always a chance that he could lose himself to the hallucinations and delusions that plague his mind.

I try not to think of that too much.

When the fire goes out and there is nothing left of the letter but rubble and ashes, I grab my jacket off my bed and head down the steps.

My father is sitting at the table, with a few papers strewn out in front of him and a whiskey glass to his left.

The sound of my feet brings his attention to my presence.

“Where are you going?” he asks, the gravel in his voice telling me he is in the mood to take out his grief.

“Out,” I grunt.

“If I ask you a question, Rook, I expect a real answer. Not a smartass one.” He pushes the chair out from his place on the table, meeting me in the middle of my walk towards the door.

“I’m going to Frank’s funeral, paying my respects, mourning the dead, doing my Christian duty.”

“Don’t disrespect God in this house, son. Not when I know what you did, what you continue to do.”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to your self-righteous bullshit,” I mutter, sidestepping his frame so I can leave without a fight, but it seems that’s what he’s in the mood for today.

“You will stand here for as long as I want you to.” He grabs at the front of my shirt, yanking me close to him so I can smell the liquor on his breath.

I could let him hit me. I could let him hurt me for not doing something sooner about Silas. I could stand here and let him take out his pain on my body and continue being the scapegoat for our mother’s death.

For a minute, I want to. The craving to feel the sharp sting of pain still lives just beneath the surface of my skin, waiting to be exposed.

But I don’t. Because she’s waiting on me, and I gave her my word. I fight that urge because I want to be the person she needs. The person that she runs to when the world hurts her, not the other way around.

“I’m done letting you punish me for something that was an accident.” I wrap my hands around his wrist, squeezing painfully as I rip them from the material of my shirt. “You don’t get to play God just because you miss Mom.”

The look on his face could only be described as one of utter shock coupled with fear. He knows I’d kill him in a fight; he knows what he has been doing to me all these years, what I’ve been letting him do with no consequences.

“An accident? If you would have just behaved, just that once, she would still be here!” he sneers. “Even as a child, you couldn’t follow the rules, and so help me, you will learn discipline in this house.”

He raises his hand to slap me.

“You better be ready for what happens after you land that. I know I can handle a punch from you—are you sure you could handle me hitting you back?” I warn. “Or I’ll give my friends the permission they’ve been waiting for.”

“You wouldn’t,” he breathes.

“Oh, I would,” I smirk. “And you should know, they aren’t fond of fathers who treat their children like shit. So before you hit me again, ask yourself, are you ready to answer for your sins, Dad?”

This time when I move past him, he lets me go, standing in his own fear of punishment.

I’d thought about what would happen if he changed, if I could bring myself to forgive him for all the abuse over the years. I think it would take time, but I would because I’d allowed him to do it for too long. I’d almost given him permission to do it. I’d enabled him.

But tigers don’t change their stripes, not overnight, and that would be a bridge I would cross if it was ever built.

When the door closes behind me, I leave everything there.

Because there is something much more important that requires my attention.

Sage leans against the hood of her car, arms crossed in front of her and a pair of black sunglasses sitting on her nose. A skirt number is wrapped around her waist, showing off her pretty legs that I love to feel squeeze me when I’m buried inside of her.

My mouth waters at the sight of her lips painted bright red.

A poison apple.

I have this rash urge to eat it off. Leave it smeared all over her chin from my kiss, from all the filthy things I’d love to do to that venom-coated mouth.

So that’s what I do because I already have low impulse control, and around her, it seems absolute.

I press my lips to hers, not worried about the stain it will leave on my own skin. I drink her down like air, feeling her come alive beneath my touch. My hellfire and holy water. Sometimes she’s sweet, and sometimes she could burn the world down.

And I love waking up not knowing which one I’d get.

My hands fall beneath her skirt, massaging with my thumbs before I skate upwards, my fingers grazing the raised skin just above her left ass cheek. Pride fills me.

“How’s this healing?” I mutter, pulling away enough to let her answer.

My toes curl knowing she’s been marked by me in more ways than just physically.

My initials branded right across the top of her ass, just like I’d told her I would do. She wears the delicate, gothic font like a sparkling jewel, and every time I see it, my gut fills with emotion.

“Fine. Still a little sore, but I kinda like it.” She bites at my bottom lip, pulling it out playfully.

“Yeah? You like a little pain, don’t you, TG?” I smirk, looking down my nose at her, pulling one of my hands up to shove the glasses up to rest on the top of her head so I can see her eyes.

“Only when I know you’ll lick it better.”

I’d always thought that falling for Sage was the worst mistake of my life. That she would make me weak. That she would snuff the flame that had always burned so hot inside of me.

But she is oxygen, constantly fueling me, for better or for worse. She built me higher, made me burn hotter, gave me strength.

I’d been through hell—we had gone through hell—but I was appreciative of that. Because I’d never been able to recognize her grace, had never known what sin was.

You never really know how damaged you are until you try to love someone.

Her eyes shine a bright blue, and it makes me tilt my head,

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, practically seeing the wheels spinning.

“Your eyes,” she mutters. “It was the first thing I noticed when I came back here. They looked so empty, but now they are different. Less vacant.”

“That’s the thing, baby.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “When we ended, you reminded me how empty I am. How so goddamn empty I have always been. The only thing that fills me is you, and it shows.”

It’s true.

Every bit of it.

“How did that go?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“I’m not bleeding, so it’s a start,” I laugh. “I’m not worried about me though. Are you ready for this?”

With soft fingers, she reaches up to fiddle with my hair. “I’m pissed he is going to be buried beside my sister, but I think I’m ready for anything with you by my side.”

A grin spreads across her cheeks as she leans closer to me, her lips brushing my own.

“My fire god.”

“Fire god, huh?”

“Yup,” she hums, smiling at me behind her long lashes. “Always ready to burn. So bright. If anything happens, I know you’ll be there to hand me the match.”

The gold necklace she wears glitters in the sun.

“I’ll always be there. Always. No matter what happens, you will always have me.”

“Because you decided to keep me?” she whispers.

There are mountains ahead of us, things that are out of our control, and even though we’d taken care of everything on our end, there are people out there who know about us. Who know that we are after them.

It won’t be long before they send more obstacles to stop us. To try and rip us apart. We are no longer the hunters; we would soon become the hunted. But we’re all ready for whatever is coming.

Even if they didn’t come for us, we would make sure those missing girls’ families got answers. That no matter how nasty, we would make sure the right people found out about what was happening here and they could stop it. Even if that meant ending ourselves in the process.

It was a small victory. Ending the life of the person who’d thrown Rose into this mess, but it wasn’t the end. Not with everything we knew now. There were too many lives on the line and even though I’d never considered myself a hero, I was a decent human being, despite my reputation.

Whatever hell they brought, we would always bring more. There is no one who could out-chaos us. Not when we had been born from it, not when we lived in it.

I would do anything to protect my family. No matter how fucked and dysfunctional, they are mine. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

And fuck do I know that Sage and I came together in a hurricane of rash decisions and lustful disarray, but what we have found beneath all that pain, all the lies, all the truths, was something real.

It’s a love that would be painted in a gruesome light, and the whispers would speak of how sinful it was, the narrative spelled out simply as the wicked child of Satan corrupting Ponderosa Springs’ most cherished angel. They would say I crept into her room at night and stole her away to my kingdom of eternal damnation, keeping her here forever.

Our story would be a villainous one for as long as we live here.

But they don’t know what we did.

They don’t know that she is more than just a flimsy angel.

She is a force with the power to destroy anything in her way. A phoenix from the ashes.

The Lilith to my Lucifer.

The one I would burn the entire goddamn planet down for.

In the opaque darkness, we found a love that could never be contained.

So to some, our love would be seen as unholy, an act against God himself, but to us?

It’s more.

It’s ours.

She was right. Tomorrow the birds will sing, and they will continue to as long as we’re together.

“Because you were the only one worthy of keeping.”

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