Chapter Five: The Quiet One
Writer's POV
The ambulance lights painted the Harlow estate in red and blue, slicing through the October dusk like knives.
Fabiola sat on the porch steps, wrapped in a blanket someone had draped over her shoulders, watching paramedics load a stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The shape under the white sheet was too small. Too still.
Lucas.
She couldn't process it. An hour ago he'd been alive, laughing, hugging her. Now he was
"Fabiola!"
Her mother came running up the driveway, Sofia trailing behind her. Rosa's face was stricken, furious, terrified all at once. She grabbed Fabiola's shoulders, checking her for injuries, for water, for something.
"I'm okay, Mama," Fabiola whispered.
"What happened? The police called and said there was an accident and you were here and I told you not to come, I told you..." Rosa was crying now, pulling Fabiola against her chest.
"Lucas drowned."
Rosa went rigid. She pulled back, looked at Fabiola with ancient eyes. "And the other one?"
"Evan tried to save him. He couldn't..." Fabiola's voice broke. "He tried, Mama. He really tried."
Rosa's gaze drifted past Fabiola to where Evan sat alone on a bench near the lake, still soaking wet, staring at nothing. A police officer was trying to talk to him, but Evan didn't respond. Didn't blink. Just stared.
"That boy," Rosa whispered. "Something broke in him today."
"He lost his brother."
"No, mija." Rosa's voice was heavy with something Fabiola didn't understand. "He lost more than that."
They wouldn't let Fabiola leave until the police took her statement. She told them everything how Lucas jumped in, how he didn't come up, how Evan tried to reach him but couldn't.
She didn't tell them about the way Evan had frozen. How his hand had been right there, inches from Lucas's, but wouldn't move. She didn't know how to explain it without making it sound like Evan had let his brother die.
And she didn't believe that.
Couldn't believe that.
When the officer finally released her, Fabiola looked for Evan. He was still on the bench, alone now. Everyone else had been ushered inside or sent home. The party decorations still hung from the trees, garish and wrong.
"Come on," Rosa said, tugging her toward the car.
"Wait." Fabiola pulled free, walked across the lawn to where Evan sat.
He didn't look up when she approached. Didn't acknowledge her at all. His gray eyes were fixed on the lake, and in the dying light, they looked empty. Hollowed out.
"Evan," she said softly.
Nothing.
She sat beside him. He was still shivering, his shirt plastered to his thin frame, water dripping from his hair. Someone should have gotten him dry clothes. Should have taken him inside.
But everyone was afraid of him now.
She could see it in the way the adults had avoided his eyes, given him space. Like he was contaminated. Like death was catching.
"It wasn't your fault," Fabiola said.
Evan's voice, when it came, was destroyed. Raw. "I couldn't move."
"I know. I saw..."
"No." He turned to look at her, and the anguish in his face made her chest ache. "You don't understand. I couldn't move. Something held me back. Something inside me."
His hand pressed to his chest. "The pact. It..." He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut. "We promised to live together or not at all. And when he went under, I should have jumped. Should have saved him. But I couldn't. Because if I saved him, I'd have to die too. And I wanted to live."
He was shaking so hard Fabiola thought he might break apart.
"I wanted to live," he repeated, his voice cracking. "I chose myself over him. And now he's dead and I'm here and it should have been me, it should have been..."
Fabiola grabbed his face, forced him to look at her. "Stop it. You were twelve years old, Evan. You are twelve years old. You're not supposed to die for anyone."
"But the pact..."
"What pact?"
He stared at her, tears streaming down his face, and she saw him decide. Decide to tell her or keep it secret. She watched the war in his eyes.
Finally, he shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it."
"Evan.."
"Fabiola!" Rosa was calling, her voice sharp with impatience and fear.
Fabiola stood reluctantly. "I'm sorry about Lucas. I'm so sorry."
Evan didn't respond. Just turned back to the lake, to the dark water that had swallowed his brother whole.
Fabiola walked away, but she looked back once.
And she could have sworn she saw two shadows beside Evan.
His own.
And another. Smaller. Child-shaped.
Sitting right next to him.
She blinked, and it was gone.
That night, Fabiola couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucas's hand breaking the surface. Saw Evan's face, frozen in horror, unable to move. Heard that terrible silence when Lucas didn't come back up.
Around midnight, she crept downstairs. Her parents were asleep, Sofia too. The house was dark and quiet.
She found her mother's prayer candles in the kitchen, lit one, whispered a prayer for Lucas's soul.
Then she whispered one for Evan too.
"Please," she said to whoever might be listening. "Please help him. He's so sad. He's been sad for so long, and now he's going to be even sadder, and I don't know how to help him, but please, please..."
A hand touched her shoulder.
Fabiola gasped, spun around.
Her mother stood in the doorway, wrapped in her robe, eyes heavy with sleep and sorrow.
"You love him," Rosa said. Not a question.
"I..." Fabiola's cheeks burned. "I don't know what love is, Mama. I'm twelve."
"You're twelve and you light candles for a boy who destroys flowers and pushes you away." Rosa sighed, sat at the table, gestured for Fabiola to join her. "I was twelve when I met your father. I knew then. The heart doesn't wait for permission."
Fabiola sat, picked at the tablecloth. "He needs someone."
"He needs a priest. An exorcist. A miracle." Rosa's voice was gentle but firm. "That boy is cursed, mija. I've known it since I first saw him. And today proved it."
"It was an accident."
"Was it?" Rosa leaned forward. "I spoke to one of the other mothers. She said Evan didn't jump in right away. That he stood there for almost thirty seconds while his brother drowned."
"He was scared..."
"Or he was stopped." Rosa's eyes glittered in the candlelight. "There are things in this world that bind people, Fabiola. Old things. Dark things. Promises that have teeth." She touched Fabiola's hand. "I think that boy made one. And it killed his brother. And if you get close to him, it will kill you too."
"You don't know that."
"I feel it. The same way I feel storms coming. The same way I knew my grandmother was dying before anyone called." Rosa squeezed Fabiola's hand. "Promise me you'll stay away from him. Especially now. He'll be dangerous now broken things always are."
Fabiola wanted to promise. Wanted to ease the fear in her mother's eyes.
But she remembered Evan's face. The way he'd looked at her like she was light in the darkness. Like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
"I'll be careful," she said instead.
Rosa sighed. "That's not good enough. But I know my daughter. Stubborn as her father." She stood, kissed Fabiola's forehead. "Then I'll pray for you both. And hope God is listening."
Evan didn't come back to school for a month.
When he finally returned, he was different.
Quieter, if that was possible. Thinner. He sat at their shared desk and didn't acknowledge Fabiola at all. Didn't look at her. Didn't scent the air around her.
It was like she'd become invisible.
Fabiola tried everything. She left notes in his desk. Brought him snacks. Asked him questions.
Nothing.
He'd built a wall around himself, and she couldn't find the door.
Until one day, three months after Lucas's death, Fabiola found Evan behind the school at lunch, sitting alone against the brick wall.
She sat beside him without asking permission.
"Go away," he said.
"No."
"Fabiola...."
"I miss him too," she said quietly. "Lucas. He was nice to me. And I'm sorry he's gone."
Evan's breath hitched.
"But you're still here," Fabiola continued. "And I'm glad. Because I like you, Evan Harlow. I've liked you since we were nine. And I'm not going to stop just because you're sad."
She felt him turn to look at her. Felt the weight of his gray eyes.
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because someone should."
Silence. Then
"He's still here."
Fabiola's blood went cold. "What?"
"Lucas. He's still here." Evan's voice was flat, dead. "I see him sometimes. In mirrors. In the corner of my eye. I hear him at night, calling my name." He laughed, and it was a broken sound. "I'm going crazy. Just like my mother said I would."
Fabiola's heart hammered. She should run. Should tell an adult. Should.
She took his hand instead.
Evan stared at their joined hands like they were a miracle.
"You're not crazy," Fabiola said, even though she wasn't sure. "And even if you are, I don't care."
Evan's fingers tightened around hers.
And for the first time since the drowning, he smiled.
It was small. Broken. Devastating.
But it was a smile.
"You're going to regret knowing me," he said.
"Maybe," Fabiola agreed. "But I'll regret not knowing you more."
Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.
And in the reflection of the school windows, a third shadow appeared beside them.
Smaller. Watching.
Waiting. Pained
Hurting. Grieving.