Page 48 of The Hallows Boys

Exhaustion has crept into my bones, so I’m sure I’m hearing him wrong. I blink through the daze over my vision as I address Beckham, trying to understand as I stare into the dark sea of his eyes. “What?”

Vinny slides up next to Kaiden, and all three boys study me through the three feet that separate us.

I point to the portrait again. “My dad is AndrewLindman.”

Vinny walks over to me. “Sage”—he points in the same spot I am—“thisis Andrew Blackmore. As in, Blackmore, Georgia? He’s related to the town’s founders and he created The Hallows Games.”

I open my mouth like I’m going to speak, but my throat and tongue have run dry, so my mouth just hangs open while I stare at Vinny. Confusion simmers inside of me, and the fact I haven’t slept makes everything so much harder to comprehend. I swallow thickly, trying to get some saliva into my mouth.

“Wait, what?” All three boys watch me, and when the words replay in my head, I drop to my knees so roughly that pain radiates up my legs.

Andrew Blackmore, Andrew Blackmore, Andrew Blackmore.

My eyes go wide. “What the fuck?”

Beckham rushes the three feet to reach me, dropping down on the floor to put a hand on my back as my chest heaves. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Kaiden like he’s waiting for answers too.

Kaiden runs a hand through his freshly fucked hair and starts to pace the small space in thought, and all three of us just watch him.

After what feels like a century, Kaiden stops dead in his tracks and looks at me. “We’ll figure this out. Go home and get some sleep, Sage.”

Beckham stops rubbing up my back. “Kai –”

His friend cuts him off, snapping, “I don’t have answers right now.”

I’m hyperventilating, my vision starting to spot with black at the edges, making my exhaustion that much stronger. I feel like something is trying to claw its way from my chest bit by bit as a storm of anxiety rains down over me.

“I need to get out of here,” I mumble to no one in particular, my eyes dropping closed for a moment as I take a deep breath in.

“I’ll walk you home.” Beckham rubs circles with his fingertips on my back lovingly, like he’s trying to calm me, remind me that he’s here with me. “C’mon.”

I stand up quickly, feeling the air whoosh from my lungs almost painfully. “No.”

I turn, taking the four steps toward the door of the crypt and rip it open, making the dawn shine through into the candlelit room. “I need to go. I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe.”

My hands shake as I step out into the morning dew of the cemetery, then I run for my life.

Ignoring the shouts from behind me, I run until my legs ache. Through the graveyard, I dodge branches and headstones somehow flawlessly, jumping and skipping over any obstacle that comes before me, the panic and urge to get away from this place is so strong that my senses are on high alert. I’m unable to stop my legs from moving, no matter how much pain runs through my tired limbs, until I finally hit my breaking point and fall to the dirty ground.

My palms scrape against the concrete of the street, my knees landing so hard that I can feel the shock in the tips of my toes. I try to catch my breath, both from running the entire way through the graveyard but also from the anxiety that’s wrapped tightly around my lungs.

“Sage!” I hear Beckham yell, his voice close behind me, and it lights a fire in me once more. I stand up, ignoring the pain in my palms and knees, and push my legs to start running again. I move faster this time somehow. My mind feels as if it’s floating above me, not attached to me anymore, but watching as I run and run.

My heart pounds as I bolt down Main Street until I reach my neighborhood.

I start to slow once I’ve turned the corner onto my street, realizing my face is drenched in tears. I wipe the backs of my shaking hands across my cheeks, but tears continue to stream from my eyes. I notice my breath fanning out in front of me as I try to catch my breath, the autumn air creating a burn in my throat and lungs.

A sob runs through me just as I’m walking up to my grandmother’s house, and I try to take a deep breath in to calm myself down before I face her – but it’s impossible. I’m so fucking overwhelmed with confusion and panic that I just keep crying loudly.

I feel fucking spent and used, my body aches as if it’s been working overtime all night, and the thought that my dad created the very same sick and twisted game I just played sends waves of nausea through me painfully.

I pull open the screen door to the house, then push the wooden front door open. I hear my grandmother in the kitchen, so I wipe my face with the backs of my hands once more. Although tears still stream down my face, I don’t want to scare her.

“Sage? Honey? Is that you?” she calls out, making another sob pulse through my body.

I walk through the house, then into the kitchen slowly. My grandmother turns when she hears me, and when she sees the state I’m in, she drops the spatula she’s holding and rushes toward me. “What is it, Sage?! What the matter?!”

I step backwards before she can reach me, making her freeze in place with her arms extended as if she was going to embrace me. “Sage…?”

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