Even If We Break

by Marieke Nijkamp

  “Do you think the ghost stories are real after all?” Finn whispers, as we navigate through the living room on feel and memory. Everything around us creaks and moans—and I keep wondering if there are other people here. The room is so infinitely big, I could be forgiven for thinking the walls could disappear and morph into night themselves.

  It’s colder than it was earlier tonight too. Although the temperature drops considerably during these summer nights, it’s usually only chilly at worst. But right now, the cabin feels freezing.

  Yes. No. I don’t know.

  I move around the table and toward the exit. “The story is generations old. The only thing that matters is getting out and calling for help.”

  “I know.”

  Finn says nothing more until we stand in front of the door to the porch, but when he reaches for the polished wood, I cover his hand with mine, and he breathes out sharply and leans into me. “I’m scared.”

  I know. “I am too.”

  We push the door open, and the outside is as dark as the inside, at first. At least until my eyes adjust, and the faint stars and a sliver of moon give us light enough to see shapes and specks of color.

  The wind chimes dance in the breeze, their music eerie and unwelcome.

  There’s only one figure waiting for us.

  “Maddy?”

  She’s leaning against one of the heavy beams, her knees pulled up to her chest and her shoulders trembling.

  “Maddy, where’s Carter?”

  She doesn’t reply.

  The music from the chimes drifts away on the wind and disappears.

  And then…

  Silence.

  You prepared for traps. You prepared for rogue mages. You prepared for murderers, wishing to stop you. You knew the investigation would be dangerous. You were ready for that. But the castle itself has mobilized against you. What seemed to be safe, feels treacherous. What seemed to be treacherous, feels deadly.

  Except, it’s not a castle, it’s a cabin. The large hearth in the main hall is nothing but a faulty fireplace that doesn’t even provide a source of light. The heavy stones are logs, really. Not built to withstand the ages. It’s quiet in here. It smells of peppers and pine and Mountain Dew.

  It’s not a castle, it’s a cabin. Your daggers are made of foam. Your rifles made of wood. And you feel far less equipped to handle this.

  Fourteen

  Finn

  “Maddy? Are you okay? Where’s Carter?” I crouch in front of Maddy. She rocks back and forth so gently, it’s almost as if she sways in the wind. There are stains all over her hands, and she keeps absently rubbing at them.

  When she doesn’t reply, or seem to register my presence, I repeat my questions with a hint of impatience. My hands are tingling. My stomach churns. “Are you okay? Where is Carter?”

  I reach out my hand to her, and she flinches away from it. It’s almost as if she’s lost too, but unlike Liva, she’s lost in her own fears. Her breathing is shallow like she’s on the verge of another panic attack.

  I twist my head back and forth to loosen up my neck.

  “Maddy, talk to us,” Ever chimes in, moving down next to me. “Breathe. Tell us where Carter is.”

  “He went back inside.” Her voice croaks. She’s still rubbing at her hands, and I realize the stains are blood. My breath catches.

  “What? Why?” I blurt. Ever and I share a look.

  Maddy shakes her head and then keeps doing it. We’re all dancing on the precipice of panic, but she’s near falling. “To help me? To stop the pain. To stop the world from crashing down on me. Liva’s gone, and Carter’s gone back in, and there is blood everywhere.” She turns her head toward the patch of grass outside Liva’s bedroom, and the world spins when I see how much blood there is.

  This is not good. This is spectacularly not good.

  “Carter went back inside?” I repeat.

  Maddy nods and Ever groans. “We have to go back for him. We have to get him out.”

  She nods again, but it’s clear the words mean very little to her.

  “Ev…” I touch their arm and jerk my head back, indicating we should step away from Maddy. My jaw is tense, and I keep clenching and unclenching my fists.

  Ever nods, but they keep their attention on Maddy for a moment longer. “Maddy. Try to focus on us. We need to find Carter, and we need you to be with us.”

  When she doesn’t reply, Ever rocks to their feet and looks at me. “We have to snap her out of it. We can’t leave her like this, and we can’t stay.”

  “We have to do something,” I say. “But…” I walk to the edge of the porch and lower my voice, so only Ever can hear what I’m saying. It’s something I haven’t wanted to voice aloud until now, but we need to discuss it. “I have to ask… Do you think maybe the call is coming from inside the house?”

  Their eyes widen. “You mean you think one of us did something to Liva?”

  I wince. They trust so easily. “I don’t know? I feel like we shouldn’t discount any possibilities.”

  “No.” Ever shakes their head. “I don’t want to entertain that thought. I can’t.”

  “I don’t want to either, but…”

  “Like who? Carter?” They gesture around them with force, and I almost feel the rage and fear spilling over from their fingertips. “We were together the entire time. We only broke apart as a group when I wanted to do that scene with him.”

  “Maddy left several times.” I glance past them, in the direction of Maddy, who is still trying to remove the bloodstains from her hands.

  “Because she’s hurting, Finn. Frankly, we all are. Life is complicated in different ways for all of us. That doesn’t mean we go around killing one another.”

  “I’m not saying anyone did this. But people are capable of all kinds of things. And I can keep trusting people and getting hurt, or I can try to be more sensible about it.” I scowl and look away from them, but despite my determination, the words taste like bile in my mouth. It’s so much easier not to get attached to people, but I don’t think I can live like that. I hated Liva and I wanted to hurt her. She was my friend, and she forgot about me. But I never wanted her to come to harm.

  When I turn to walk back to Maddy, Ever’s hand grabs my shoulder, and they pull me around and toward them. They wrap their arms around my shoulders. Slowly, I put my arms around their waist. We breathe in the same air. We can feel our heartbeats echo against each other.

  Even if everything else feels wrong in the world, this, right here, feels right.

  In a way, I hate that it does. I wish I could pretend it didn’t. This—happiness—doesn’t belong. Not here. Not now. But then, maybe here and now are all we have left.

  Damien took me aside at WyvernCon this year and told me to, for the love of Talos, ask Ever out already. He said point-blank, “I see how you look at them. I see how they look at you. It’s worth a try.”

  “What if they say no?” I asked him.

  “Then you go on being friends. As long as you can respect each other’s wishes, your friendship is strong enough to withstand that.”

  “What if they say yes?” is what I actually wanted to know.

  “Then you still go on being friends, but you also try to make the relationship part work, whatever that means to you.”

  “How on earth do I do that?”

  He laughed. “Ikram and I are still trying to figure that out, but I’ll let you know when I’ve completed the manual. Truth is, the most important parts are communication and trust. Figuring out what it means to be together, what you want and need from each other, what you’re comfortable with. And kissing. The kissing is one of my favorite parts.”

  I blushed, and he laughed harder.

  “But it’s also investing in friendship. Because you can have the friendship without the relationship, bu
t you can’t have the relationship without the friendship.”

  “I wouldn’t want to give up my friendship with Ever for anything,” I admitted.

  “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to give up my friendship with Ikram for anything either.” Damien tapped his phone and pulled up a picture of him and his boyfriend in outrageous Regency costumes. They were both laughing so hard they were almost crying. “This world is a messed up and scary place. It’s lonely to go through it on your own. So, you have to find your family. You have to find people who will stand by you and make you laugh until you cry, and who will hold you while you cry until you laugh again.”

  “Yeah.” I bit my lip, trying to process his words. “Wait, you mean the world doesn’t get less scary after high school?”

  Damien put his phone in his pocket and rolled back to the front of the game stand. He’d once told me if my pain and joint instability got worse and it happened that I needed to use a wheelchair, we’d figure it out together. Wheels are fracking excellent; they’re freedom, and he’d teach me how to make the most of them. “Hasn’t happened yet. Of course, it’s only been a couple of years, so maybe it takes some time.”

  “Well, that’s a comforting thought.”

  Damien stared straight through me. “It does get easier, though. Not because the world is less cruel or life makes more sense. But because you start to realize everyone feels this way.”

  One of the other game devs at the booth, a pink-haired Moroccan woman in her late twenties, laughed. “He’s right, you know. You think there are people who aren’t constantly anxious? In this economy? No way. Anyone who tells you they aren’t afraid is lying. But that’s how you know you’ve found your people. When you can be scared together but also stronger together. And at some point, you discover if you’re going to be afraid anyway, you may as well do the things that scare you.”

  “Thanks for your wisdom, Grandma Nour,” Damien teased, and something about the way they interacted told me they’d had variations of this conversation countless of times.

  Nour grinned. “You’re welcome, young ’un.”

  Damien swirled back to me. “So ask them out.”

  “Cosigned,” Nour added.

  Now, in the dark, Ever holds me until the tension drops from my stance—and theirs as well—and I breathe out sharply.

  We shouldn’t stand here. We shouldn’t make targets of ourselves.

  “I know it’s hard to trust anyone,” they whisper into my shoulder.

  I tremble. “Ever…”

  “But pushing everyone away will only make you more vulnerable.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I mutter.

  “I know.”

  “Would you lie to me?”

  “We all lie on occasion.” They grimace. “But not about anything worthwhile. And besides, that’s not the point. We’re not going to split the party again, because even if you don’t know how to trust us yet, we have your back. We’re in this together and we’ll get out of this together. It seems someone put a lot of thought into terrifying us, but we can’t let that get to us. Clear heads. We won’t sit by and start a fight amongst ourselves.”

  “And then what? Walk down a mountain in the dead of night? We can’t safely run away if there’s anything outside waiting for us. I can’t navigate those boulders in the dark.” I can’t help the edge of panic and impatience in my voice.

  “Not on your own, but we can manage it together.” They disentangle and take a step back, looking me in the eyes. “Come on, are we adventurers or not?”

  I almost laugh derisively. “In a game.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  This time, I don’t hesitate. “Unconditionally.”

  “Then trust me with this. We go and find Carter. And then we go home.”

  Fifteen

  Carter

  Going back was a ridiculous idea. I shouldn’t be here. But Maddy was so upset, and it hurts me to see her hurt. I know she needs her pills, she needs something against the pain, she needs something to ease her nerves. She started talking about going back in, and I couldn’t let her.

  Of course, a tiny voice in the back of my mind wonders whether it’s really a better idea to leave her on her own, outside, but the handprints led in too. She’ll be safe outside.

  She will be safe outside. Right?

  Besides, this mountain can’t be haunted for real. This doesn’t happen to people like Liva. It doesn’t happen to people like me. But it mostly doesn’t happen to people like Liva.

  As long as I keep telling myself that, a better explanation will show up. An explanation for Liva’s disappearance. The blood. The fireplace.

  The mountain is hungry. The night has teeth. And both demand to be paid their price in blood.

  I really shouldn’t have gone back in.

  I push my hands into my pockets and find scattered coins there.

  Break the rules.

  I wish I still had some of the bravado from earlier. I kept thinking whoever put those coins there meant I’d lose the game we were all playing. Now I can’t help but wonder: What if this is the game? What if Liva’s disappearance is only the start of it, and we’re all pawns in a ghost story, on a board we’re not aware of? What if the coins weren’t the warning, but the note?

  Lose the game.

  I pull my hands from my pockets and shrug my coat closer. The cabin creaks around me, and I run without caring what’s in my way. I’d rather fall down than not try. Games aren’t won by being too careful.

  If I play by the rules, I’ll lose too. I know that all too well.

  It’s why I started stealing from my work.

  I didn’t even want the job at first. When my father first brought up the idea of spending my afternoons and weekends there, right after sophomore year, I’d told him, “I’m not sure insurance is the career for me.” I had other dreams. I wasn’t sure what they were just yet, but wasn’t that what college was for? Figuring yourself out?

  He was adamant. My mom worked at Liva’s dad’s office and could get me a job. If I followed my parents’ plan, I could save up before college and wouldn’t drown in student debt. He told me the responsible thing for any man to do, especially in insecure times, is to secure that money early on. Anything less, according to him, would be lazy, careless, and stupid.

  Ever wanted to punch him when I shared that remark with them.

  I very nearly took them up on the offer.

  But then I got my first paycheck. It was less than I expected, but it was still more money than my parents ever gave me. I could buy the clothes I wanted, the gifts my friends wanted. I could buy friendship itself. I barely felt out of place next to Liva—or Zac.

  I grew used to it. I forgot about the idea of other dreams; they were childish anyway.

  Instead, I started to pay attention and found ways to be better. I noticed I did the same work as fully salaried employees, but because I was “young” and “inexperienced” and “technically an intern,” I got paid a pittance for it.

  I hid when Liva walked around the floor to bring messages from her father, because everyone tensed up and she pretended not to know me. Or maybe she truly didn’t see me.

  I snooped around because it’s easy to grow used to money and easier still to spend it all. Not the first year working there, but the second. After my parents told me I should try harder to make a good impression. After Liva breezed past me one too many times. After I graduated to another internship and still did the same work as regular employees and still wasn’t paid enough for it.

  I learned that playing by the rules only brings you so far, and the ones who made it furthest in the office were the ones who bent those rules to suit them.

  I learned to do the same.

  And no one ever noticed the books didn’t add up.

  It was what I had to do, I thoug
ht, if I ever wanted a life like Liva’s or Zac’s, with enough money to throw at problems and the ability to afford a second home. But the cabin doesn’t look like a rich, welcoming place anymore. It keeps growing colder and darker.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this does happen to people like us. Or maybe it does happen to people like Liva.

  I glance at Liva’s room, which is still empty and filled with shadows.

  I didn’t wish this on her. Did I?

  I definitely wouldn’t wish it on myself, in any case. I have to keep my head down, grab Maddy’s pills, and run back out.

  I reach out to the handle and push her door open—and pause.

  In the dim light of the hallway, something glimmers in front of the door next to Maddy’s room—my door. I blink and stare, thinking at first it’s a trick of my eyes or my brain, but when I stare, the shimmer is still there. And the door is ever so slightly cracked, allowing moonlight to filter out.

  I take a careful step closer and reach down as far as I can. I don’t want to kneel or crouch because it would leave me vulnerable. I don’t want to be curious. But I am.

  The wood is rough and splintered, and my fingers catch on it. Until my fingers touch the wet substance, and moonlight illuminates the ward in front of me.

  Because it is a ward, exactly like the ones Ever has so often described in the game. Like the ones around the fake body we played with. Endless symbols, drawn in blood.

  No. Nope. Absolutely not.

  I want this twisted and messy game to be over. I want to go back to the time before. I want this not to be happening.

  The moment I take a step back from the door, a shadow passes through the moonlight. Fleeting. Indistinct. A darkness in an already dark night. A bat or a curtain. A tree branch or a person.

  Does it matter? Does it matter what’s out there if we don’t get out of here tonight?

  A floorboard groans. I spin around, but nothing. I push my door open farther, to let more light filter in, but the light does nothing. Almost as though the shadows are too plentiful here to be turned away.