Jake ran as civilized as he could away from the scene and back to the house. He slammed the front door closed and heard a slight squeak come from the armchair in the corner of the living room, the same one Emma had been relaxing in the previous afternoon. He turned his head towards the sound, picking up his crossbow which he had hidden behind the umbrellas next to the front door. He loaded it, fury guiding his arm and aim. He shot the front of the armchair, the bolt piercing through it. Something screamed behind it and darted out, running into the wall and falling down.
“Charlie?” Jake said. Charlie’s scared eyes focused on Jake. “Charlie!” he yelled. Charlie ran into his arms and hugged him, crying as three year olds do. “It’s alright, I’m here,” Jake said, picking Charlie up and holding him in his arms. “I’m not going to leave you,” Charlie held on to Jake’s neck, not wanting to let go. The phone rang in the other room and Jake went to get it, putting it up to his ear.
“Hello?” he said, trying to make his voice steady.
“Oh, thank god! Someone answered! We heard what happened in the park- where’s Charlie, is he ok?!” Charlie’s mother’s voice rang through the phone, her worry making her voice crack.
“He’s right here, Mrs. Bucket,” Charlie raised his head when Jake said “Bucket”. “Yeah, it’s mommy,” Jake said in response to Charlie’s head lift. Charlie tore the phone from Jake’s hand and held it in front of his face.
“Mommy! Mommy!” he said, over and over. Jake gently moved it up to Charlie’s ear so he could hear her response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. He giggled slightly at whatever she said, then he said, “Emma gone, but Jake still here!” He said it in the happy voice that kids his age always used, no matter what they are talking about. Jake’s stomach contracted when he said the sentence, but he forced himself to be calm as he raised the phone up to his own ear again.
“What? Emma’s gone?” Jake nodded, then said yes, realizing she couldn’t see him. “Oh God, Jake I am so sorry.” a moment of silence as she collected her thoughts. “What attacked the playground?” she asked.
“By the looks of the corpses, I’d say a Hollow.” he said. “Though I have never seen one that would kill regular people and let a peculiar such as Charlie get away.” he said. She took a shaky breath.
“I am truly sorry about Emma.” she said. Jake thanked her for her kindness. “Well, thank you for the update, this call definitely put our minds at ease.” she said. Jake said goodbye then hung up the phone. The doorbell rang right as Jake put the phone down. Jake sat Charlie down on the couch and told him not to move. Charlie did move, but he didn’t leave the couch. He instead built himself a little house out of the two pillows that were on the couch, and barricaded himself in, the pillows quivering slightly.
Jake smiled at Charlie and envied him. If only all his problems could be solved using two pillows and a couch. Jake picked up his crossbow and fetched his bolt out of the armchair. The doorbell rang again, this time impatiently; two dings echoed through the house. Jake loaded his crossbow and walked toward the door, opening it and stepping behind the door, preparing to shoot anything that walked in.
The person standing outside yelped as the door swung open. “J-Jake?” Enoch’s thin voice came around the corner. Jake didn’t respond. He couldn't face Enoch, not now. “I knew I shouldn't have come here.” Enoch murmured to himself. Jake took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to step around the door and show himself to Enoch.
He jumped ten feet into the air when Jake came around the corner. “Jake! Seriously man, you got me thinking that I’m seeing ghosts!” he said. Jake didn’t respond, but he felt the blood rush out of his face as he remembered Emma was a ghost. Enoch stared at his pale face. “Or maybe you are a ghost and I have lost my mind.” he said, rubbing his eyes. He looked back up at Jake. “Oh, you’re still here. Then you aren’t a ghost.” Enoch said, a slight smile in his voice. When Jake didn’t smile back, he softened his tone. “Jake, what happened?”
“Em-Emma-Charlie-I, you-” he took a deep breath. “I-I don’t know,” he said, stammering, his voice catching in his throat. He took a deep breath and started from the beginning. “We all went to the park, I left early-I was tired- Emma was alone, Charlie was on the playground-I should have been there, Enoch. I would have seen it, saved some of those people, yelled to warn people, I could’ve-”
“Made yourself the prime suspect by being able to warn people a mass murder was about to happen.” Enoch said. Jake bit his own lip, the pain a welcome pain that seemed to dull the pain inside of him. “So, it was a Hollow?” Enoch asked.
Jake nodded.
“So Emma and Charlie are-”
“Enoch!” Charlie shouted as he ran around the corner, slamming into Enoch’s stomach. Enoch fell onto his knees, hugging Charlie.
“You’re alright,” Enoch said as he broke the hug to look over Charlie. “Not a single scratch.” Enoch said, looking at Jake. “Did you get to him before the Hollow did?” he asked.
Jake shook his head. “Something-something was different about this hollow, it killed, seemingly for sport. It killed regular people before it even tried killed Charlie.” Enoch scrunched his eyebrows questioningly.
“But aren’t Hollows like little children? Peculiars are the chocolate cake and regular people are like broccoli. Obviously the child would go for the chocolate cake. So why did it go for the broccoli?” Enoch pondered. Jake shrugged his shoulders. Charlie exclaimed “Cake?” and Jake shook his head, telling him that they didn’t have cake.
“I should go. Miss Peregrine won’t like that I have left the house and come so close to a possible Hollow attack.” Enoch said, waving goodbye to Charlie.
“Wait,” Jake said, taking his coat off the coat rack. Charlie was already in his jacket. “We’ll come with you. We need Bronwyn to take Emma back up to Miss Peregrine’s.” he said. Enoch swallowed.
“She’s-she’s gone?” he said. Jake nodded. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, staring at Jake. Jake shrugged.
“I’m trying not to think about it, and so far it is working, so don’t say anything,” Jake said. Enoch nodded. Jake looked at Enoch. How had he never noticed how understanding Enoch was? He shook his head and shrugged his jacket on. “Anyways, Miss Peregrine will be less pissed if I come with you; at least you were smart enough to bring me along will be the gist of the conversation.” Enoch smiled slightly. Jake smiled back, the world fading slightly. Enoch turned away as Charlie ran at him and turned him around. Apparently, he had caught the gist of the conversation. They were going to Miss Peregrine’s.
Charlie normally ran ahead when they walked to Miss Peregrine’s, but today he stuck by either Enoch’s or Jake’s side through the entire trip. Jake climbed up and entered the lush lawn of Miss Peregrine’s house. Some of the kids playing on the lawn saw Jake and started shouting “Jake’s here!” Jake felt heavy when he realized Emma wasn’t going to be the person that walked out of that house to greet him. Instead, Olive walked out and hugged him. “Jake, you’re alive. The news- it didn’t tell anyone who died.” she said. She looked around and picked up Charlie. Enoch came out of the forest, and Olive smiled at him, nodding. She scanned the edge of the forest again.
“She’s not coming. That’s why I came. Bronwyn needs to carry her up.” he said. Olive’s mouth fell in horror, her eyes widening as the news settled in.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Jake glared at her.
“Everyone’s sorry these days. Sorry that your girlfriend died, sorry your grandfather died, for the second time, sorry that you have to shoulder the burden of a child that isn’t even mine, sorry that so much was thrusted on you at a young age, sorry that your life is screwed up and pathetic,” Jake’s words flowed like lava out of a volcano. He stopped and squatted on the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just- everyone keeps saying sorry to me. If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t bring it up like that.” Jake said, anger still making him bitter. He took a deep breath and felt a hand on his back.
Enoch gently patted Jake’s back. Jake shook as sobs racked his body. Olive took Charlie in and herded the rest of the children back inside, leaving Jake and Enoch alone outside. Jake stayed where he was, and Enoch sat down next to him, staring off into the forest.
“Why-why are you still here?” Jake asked in between sobs. He wiped his face and sat down next to Enoch.
“Because I know what it’s like to just want someone to sit with me, even if they don’t say anything.” Enoch said. Jake looked at him confused and Enoch shrugged.
“Why are you so understanding?” Jake asked, his tears subsiding slightly. Enoch shrugged. “Were you always like this?” Jake asked, a slight smile going onto his face.
Enoch smiled back. “Depends on who you ask,” Jake let out a sharp bark of laughter, but stopped quickly. It seemed so out of place, inappropriate. Enoch carefully wiped the smile off his face. They sat together, quietly, thinking, as the sun slowly set and made the grass grow dark. Enoch stood up as the sun left, and Jake followed suit.
Olive saw them come in and set out two plates for them. They sat down side by side, and Jake stayed quiet through the entire dinner; even when the little kids asked for a story. Enoch instead told the story. Jake smiled slightly when Enoch changed the story to make the hero seem less funny. The little kids didn’t like it though, they complained that Jake was the better storyteller and Enoch just rolled his eyes at them playfully. Even though the kids complained about not liking the story, they didn’t ask for another.
“Thanks,” Jake whispered to Enoch. Enoch nodded imperceptibly. Everyone else talked with somewhat quiet voices, and Jake wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse. At least they acknowledged life wasn’t the same, but at the same time Jake was reminded of the incident with each sideway look everyone seemed to give him, with each sad comment, with each shushed laugh.
Dinner ended and Jake pulled Bronwyn to the side. She walked over to him when he motioned for her, and she looked at him sadly. “I’m so-” she began.
“I swear I’m going to personally shoot the next person that says I’m sorry,” Jake said. His voice wasn’t angry, but instead just sounded like he was done. And he was. He was done with pain, done with loss, done with hurting, and done caring about others; it seemed that whenever he grew too close to someone they always died. Silently, he vowed he would never let someone touch his heart the way Emma did ever again. He didn’t want them to die.
“Ok,” she said, a wary look in her eyes. “So, what’s up?” Jake rolled his eyes. “Listen, I am trying to make it seem like nothing happened even though something did, because apparently you don’t want to talk about it.” she said defensively. Jake stared off into the distance, his jaw tight.
“I need you to lift Emma and bring her up here tonight.” he said. “Yes or no?” he asked. She nodded a swift yes, and Jake walked away.
“Will you be coming with me?” she asked. Jake looked back at her, unsure.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Probably.” She nodded and walked away. Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the hallway to his own room. He walked past an empty room and his stomach plummeted, his heart contracting. He looked in and saw Emma’s hairbrush on her nightstand, a backup stash of clothes hanging out of the dresser. Her bed was neatly made, her pillows arranged in a fan like style at the top of her bed, the style that had taken her years to learn and tons of hours of learning to get right. He smiled sadly at the memories, hating how his last words to her was “Don’t worry about me,” He hated how even in her final moments, he only thought about himself. A tiny voice inside of him told him that he didn’t know that would be the last time he saw her, but thoughts of guilt squashed any reasoning that voice had. It weighed on him; the guilt and selfishness that he had when leaving her alone, how she shouldn’t have been alone.
He quickly closed the door with a slight bang. Fiona poked her head around her doorframe, looking down the hallway, quickly vanishing again when Jake looked at her. He walked swiftly down the hallway to his room, closing the door. He stared out the window, the stars slowly fading into view, the sun slowly fading from it. He never liked how the sun had to set every day, but today he welcomed it. The sun, his sun, was gone, so why should anyone else get sun?
He turned around and sat down heavily on his bed, pushing his palms into his eyes. Even now he was selfish in his thinking. He tried to stay sitting down, knowing that if he stood up he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He stayed sitting, taking deep, calming breaths. He felt the heat in him lower slightly, then boil over. He stood up and steadied himself on the back of his chair.
It was his fault that Emma was dead. He should have been there to help her, to save her. But he was too damn selfish and decided to go home and sleep instead. His fault she died, his fault everyone there died.
Everything was his fault.
He saw his chair fly into his wall, breaking, shattering. Just like his heart. He swiped everything off his desk, letting everything crash to the ground. He walked over to his door, resting his head on it, trying to calm down. Instead, having his eyes closed, he remembered how he left Emma alone in order to sleep. To fulfill his own selfish needs. He reared back and punched his door, his knuckles disappearing into it’s dark wood. He tried pulling his fist back out, but it wasn’t working. He felt the pain and the warmth of open wounds and blood dripping down his hand. There was a sharp pain near his thumb, and a twisted side of him wished for it to be broken.
There was a knock on the other side of the door, and he opened the door, walking with it, his fist still stuck in the door. Bronwyn walked in, her eyes glued to his fist. “That looks serious,” she said. Jake felt the tears rising in his throat. He clenched his jaw, anger still controlling his muscles. A single tear leaked down his cheek, and Bronwyn’s face softened slightly.
“I can’t move it,” he said quietly, his angry facade melting into who he now was; a broken, bent, destroyed shell that somehow needed to learn how to live. Bronwyn gently took his arm and pulled it out, using her strength to unwedge it. Jake bit his lip to keep himself from screaming, not wanting her to stop. The pain hurt, and it hurt a lot, but he wanted it to hurt more. He felt he deserved it. He shook his head slightly, clearing the thought out of his head. He gripped his wrist, slowly flexing his fingers, the splinters stuck in his hand making him wince. There was a solid dent on the outer side of the door, but other than that, the only side that was splintered was the side he punched.
Bronwyn led the way down to the basement, to Enoch’s secret room where he kept all his creations, and opened the door. Enoch jumped and slammed the scalpel he had down on the table, his back to the door as he leaned on the counter in front of him.
“I swear, how hard is it for you guys to knock?” he asked, irritated.
“Sorry, but it’s urgent. Jake’s hurt-” Bronwyn paused when Enoch wheeled around and looked at her, the concern in his eyes visibly showing, though he tried hard to seem to be pondering how this could have happened rather than if Jake was ok. “He has a few splinters, and his thumb might be broken.” she finished. Enoch’s eyes had traveled to the doorway and he stared at Jake’s hand, but his eyes snapped back as Bronwyn spoke.
“Yeah, I can remove the splinters,” he answered, answering a question that wasn’t asked. “He’ll be up soon.” he said, waving his hand at Bronwyn. Bronwyn nodded and left, not wanting to see the blood anymore. Jake sat down in a chair, and Enoch pulled up a chair in front of that chair, their knees touching slightly. Jake looked up and saw Enoch swallow as he pulled out his first aid kit. Miss Peregrine had given Enoch access to scalpels he now called his but she only allowed him to have them if he had a first aid kit, which is why Jake had been led there, down to the place with a first aid kit.
He would have gone up to the infirmary, but then Miss Peregrine would have been alerted, and he didn’t want that for some reason; though he was pretty sure everyone in the house already knew something happened in Jake’s room. Enoch gently picked up Jake’s hand in his new clean gloves, his other ones having been thrown away. The blue rubber of the gloves reminded Jake of the last time he was at the doctor’s, and he laughed slightly.
Enoch looked up in concern. “Jake, are you feeling light headed?” he asked, his voice stern. Jake shook his head and stopped laughing.
“It’s just, your gloves remind me of the last time I was at the doctor’s. I went because I got something stuck in my thumb. It apparently was a hangnail.” Enoch was still looking at Jake with slight concern. “It was funny how that was such a small event compared to now.” he said, the happiness dying from his voice. Enoch nodded slowly, continuing to look over Jake’s hand. He gently removed splinters, sometimes drawing blood, sometimes not.
After a while of Jake biting his lip and Enoch drawing splinters, he set down the tweezers, deciding that he had gotten them all, then gently massaged parts of Jake’s hand. “Any of this hurt?” he asked. Jake shook his head no. “Ok, well, I’ll think you live.” he said, smiling. Jake smiled back, but the smile faded quicker than he had thought it would. Enoch gently wrapped his palm and knuckles in gauze. “Hey, Jake,” he said while wrapping. “If I may, what happened? Why are there splinters in your hand?” Jake bit his lip, tasting blood, again not caring about the pain.
“A door attacked me,” he said. Enoch looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at Jake’s personification of the door. “Ok, fine, I might’ve attacked the door.” he said reluctantly. Enoch nodded.
“Well, those doors are absolute jerks at times aren’t they,” Enoch said jokingly. Jake flexed his mended hand, laughing slightly.
“Thanks Enoch,” he said.
Enoch nodded and said, “Anytime.” Jake nodded a goodbye and left, finding Bronwyn at the top of the basement stairs. Bronwyn raised an eyebrow at him, so many questions in that one look, so Jake decided to answer the question that was easiest to answer.
“I’m ready to go down to the park,” he said, walking off. Bronwyn followed him and they walked out of the house, down the lawn, through the time loop, and into the modern day forest. Jake stayed silent, and Bronwyn followed suit. They reached the park, and the police vehicles were still there. The police man that had stopped Jake earlier let them through, following behind them.
“They already studied her, and said she doesn’t give any clues of this mystery character. You can take her.” he said. “My condolences.” Jake nodded and the police man left them alone. Bronwyn bent down and picked her up, taking her and flinging the bag over her shoulder. Jake nudged her shoulder and gestured around to the policemen. She quickly set the bag back down, picking up the side with Emma’s boots and Jake picked up the side with her head. They pretended like they were both shouldering her weight, but in reality, Bronwyn held her and Jake was just touching the bag. They turned the corner and Bronwyn took the bag, cradling it in her arms while Jake walked behind her. He kept staring at the bag, his brain not registering the contents of it at times. He knew Emma was in there, but it didn’t feel like she was in there. He still felt that as soon as they walked onto the lawn she would be standing there, her arms wide open, waiting for him to come back home.
He knew what to expect, but he still expected the impossible. The lawn was empty when they crested the hill and entered the time loop. Bronwyn brought the bag into the woods, and set it down next to a tall tree. She disappeared and came back with a shovel, and Jake sat down on a boulder silently as he watched her shovel and dig Emma’s grave. The thought punched him in the gut and he took a deep breath.
Bronwyn looked up at him. “Are you alright?” she asked carefully. Jake nodded, ducking his head as a tear hit the dirt below him. Bronwyn went back to digging. How many times could he cry in the last few days without dying of dehydration? He hated himself for crying so much, but that little voice inside him said if he wasn’t crying then it wouldn’t be Emma they were burying. But again, he silenced it with anger and guilt. He didn’t want to lash out, so he took a calming breath, staring down at his hand that was wrapped in gauze, and imagined putting all the emotions into an empty abyss that was himself. When he opened his eyes, he realized he couldn’t feel anything.
Bronwyn paused to wipe the sweat from her brow, and Jake was already moving before he realized what he was doing. He reached his hand out, and he felt like he was playing a video game; he was in control yet it wasn’t his hand that reached out. “I’ll dig,” he said, his voice hollow and deadpan. It seemed to be detached from him, a foreign sound his brain didn’t recognize. Bronwyn looked at him warily, as if she expected him to explode. He clenched his jaw slightly and ripped the shovel from her grasp, starting to dig. She carefully walked over to the boulder he was sitting on and sat on it lightly, as if ready to spring up at a moment’s notice.
The dirt flew around Jake. He got it in his hair, his eyes, his mouth, and the cuts on his hand through the openings in the gauze created by the movement of his hand. Everything stung, but he didn’t care. He looked at the yellow body bag and heard a voice that sounded like Emma’s in his head. “Alright, see you soon.” he ground his teeth. Her last words were pointed at him. In her last days she was kind, he was selfish. He dug harder, his phlegm mixing with the dirt in his mouth. He spat every so often to get the dirt out of his mouth.
He never stopped, not even when he felt Bronwyn’s hand on his shoulder. The only time he stopped was when he realized his eyes were level with the ground, and Bronwyn was bending down to look at him. “I think it’s deep enough.” she said. “We can get you out then put her in.” The bandage holding him together inside lifted slightly, bringing with it stinging pain, but he pushed the bandage back down, keeping it secure in a dark back corner of his mind.
Jake climbed out, Bronwyn helping him. He gave up halfway up, and Bronwyn pulled him out. He dangled from her hand as she pulled up. His feet hit the solid ground and he fell onto the boulder that was a few paces away. He looked at the shovel, then at the grave he dug. He flung the shovel, hating it. He couldn’t bring himself to think that he had dug the grave. No, it was the shovel’s fault, it dug her grave, not him. Again, the tiny voice in his head spoke up, telling him this wasn’t a healthy way of coping, but again, he buried the voice within him with guilt and hatred. He hated himself for thinking of him when he was at Emma’s funeral. Why was he so selfish? This question had run through his head so many times he didn’t flinch at the harsh words anymore.
Even at her funeral, all he thought of was himself.
Bronwyn lowered the bag in, using the bag as a makeshift coffin. Jake watched as she picked up the shovel that had dug the grave, and started using it to move the dirt back into the grave. Jake stared at the shovel, a slight scowl crossing his face, his upper lip twitching. Bronwyn quickly shoved the dirt in, then hit it with the shovel to compact it. She found a large rock and put it next to the end of the grave that wasn’t against the big tree. She then left again, but Jake didn’t realize she left until she had come back with flowers, placing them on the grave.
“Come on Jake, it’s nearly night. We should go back inside.” she said softly. Jake shook his head and felt like a disobedient child. “Jake, we can’t be out here during the night, we both know what crawls around these woods.” He stood still, not moving. He stared hard at the grave. “Come on, we need to go. We will be torn apart by anything that comes our way, especially since you don’t have your crossbow.” she said. Jake shrugged. Bronwyn’s face became a sheet of terror. “You dont- you don’t want it to happen, do you?” she asked. Jake shrugged.
“If it does, it does.” he said, not caring about anything in the slightest. Bronwyn picked up his forearm and nudged him to move, but he didn’t. “Leave me alone, I’ll be here in the morning.” he said.
Bronwyn crossed her arms at him. “No, you’ll be everywhere by tomorrow!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the forest around them. “Now, come on!” she said as she picked him up, flinging him over her shoulders. He thrashed, trying to get out of her grasp, but soon gave up.
“Fine, I promise I’ll go inside, just put me down,” he said. She set him down, keeping her arm on his elbow to ensure he went inside. He walked in and headed straight up to his room, not waiting for anyone to ask him any questions about how it went and what happened; Bronwyn stayed behind though, and she answered any questions anyone had. Mainly, as Jake overheard some questions, they asked where she was buried so they could pay respects in the morning.
Jake slammed his head into his pillow and fell asleep.