Page 154 of The Truths We Burn

What I found in Lyra’s closet was something I knew I’d take to my grave. It was her secret to keep, her truth to burn. I knew it would come out eventually, but until that time came, I would keep her obsession close to my chest just like I’d promised.

Everything had been going so smoothly for the past few days that I should have expected something to go terribly wrong.

I should have seen it coming.

But there was nothing that could prepare me for what was waiting for us or just how drastically it would change the course of everything.

When the door opens, there were three things that happen.

One.

Silas’s mother, Zoe, is sitting on the couch with Caleb and Levi flanking her sides, consoling her as large tears stream down her face.

Two.

Scott Hawthorne, a sophisticated, mild-tempered father, is pacing a hole through the floor. Whoever is on the opposite end of the phone call he’s having is braving a storm I want no part of.

Three.

There’s blood on the floor leading to the door. Not enough to warrant someone’s death, but enough to make you worry.

“Sage!” Zoe gasps, standing up. “Have you heard from Si?”

“No, what’s going on? Is he alright?” I ask, concern taking over.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

It is now I notice that Scott is sporting a white bandage on his hand, one that is allowing blood to leak through it.

“What happened?” I say, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Silas is in the middle of a psychotic episode, one of the first since he was a young boy. He has given in to his psychosis and has started to believe that is his reality.”

“But his medicine, I thought that was helping—”

“It was,” Zoe sobs. “But he’s stopped taking them. We had no idea until today when his father confronted him about his symptoms getting worse, and he admitted that he had switched the pills for a vitamin supplement. There was no way we could have known.”

I turn to Lyra. My first instinct is to call Rook—he would know what to do, right?

Guilt swims in my gut.

This is partially my fault. I gave him too much time to come clean to Rook about what happened between us. But he’d been okay the past few days. He seemed alright, and now we are here.

All it took was a snap of a finger.

“I tried to stop him from leaving, but he was too far inside his head. I fought him, trying to keep him in the house long enough to call an ambulance, but he—” Scott raises his wounded hand, saying it with actions instead of words. “He just kept talking about how the voices were telling him what he needed to do so he could—” He chokes on the words, the sadness of a worried father taking over him.“So he could get Rose back.”

There are so many things that could mean, and at the same time, we could have no idea, because whatever is happening inside Silas right now is between Silas and his demons, something that none of us is able to comprehend.

Schizophrenia is an unpredictable mental disease, one that takes no mercy on its victims, and Si is no exception.

My hands are shaking as I pull my phone from my pocket.

“We don’t know where he’s at, where he’s headed, what he is capable of doing to himself.” Scott runs a frustrated hand down his face.

“My baby boy,” Zoe cries, the tears continuing to flow as she walks to her husband for a comfort that can only come from Silas being home safe. “Scott, our baby.”

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