“Trust me, you’ll have a blast. We’re chill. No deadbeats or anything.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“Why is there a bed there?”

***

“I can’t take this.”

“Why not?” Liam presses his blanket toward her, and Cora pushes it away, shaking her head.

“I don’t–” Don’t deserve it, she wants to say. I’m the reason you’re here. But the words die at the tip of her tongue. She itches to grab the blanket and be done with the theatrics. Her selfishness is unparalleled in any world, she knows.

Mari would agree.

“I don’t want to, because then you’ll be cold.” The lie slips out so easily. Cora is a natural. Even she believes herself. “Besides, I got used to the cold.”

He frowns. “Just take it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, okay?” Because if I do, then the bad side of me wins. Once more, Liam presses his blanket toward her, and she snaps, slamming the back of her hand against his offering. “I told you, I’m fine.”

He presses his lips thin. His nostrils flare, and he frowns, but offers the blanket once more. Looking at her pleadingly. “It’s bloody, I know, and you’re probably wondering when I last washed it. I get it. It’s a dirty rag, but it’s a dirty rag that’ll keep you warm.”

“I’m warm.”

“You’re fucking shivering!” Never has Cora heard a voice boom like that. She recoils, drawing back from his six feet of musculature, eyeing the sheath strapped to his waist. He sighs and drops his arm back to his side, blanket bundled in his fist. “Are you sure?”

Back home, she played Russian roulette with her friends, her family, daring herself to go a little farther, pushing the boundaries of her research for knowledge’s sake. The more she learned about the box, its powers, its subtle effects on everything and everyone, the more confident she became.

She thought she knew everything. She thought she had her life under control, knew her future and what she’d do to achieve it… until Mari knocked on the door.

And everything spiraled from there. Am I sure? She knows that if she says no, he won’t ask again. More than that, she knows she’ll break something between them.

Ha! You don’t know this guy! Why do you care?

They’re Cora’s thoughts, in Mari’s voice. Cora reaches and runs her thumb over the blanket, avoiding the dark splotches. Traitor, Mari whispers. Goosebumps ripple down Cora’s spine.

You’re not real. Shut up.

“Sorry for being a jerk,” Cora mumbles, taking the blanket from Liam. She braces herself and drapes the blanket over her shoulders. The blood is dried off, leaving thick crusts that she does her best to ignore.

He raises an eyebrow, mouth slightly open. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Cora shrugs off her backpack and rifles through the front pocket. She removes her hair claw clip, holds it open, drags both ends of the blanket over her chest using pinky and thumb, and lets the hair clip snap its jaws closed. The result means the plastic bites into her chest, but it’s a small price to pay.

She’s made a brooch, and the blanket a coat.

Liam nods. “Huh. That’s pretty cool.”

She allows herself a small smile. It feels forced, unnatural. “Thanks.”

“I have water bottles back at my camp. It’s not too far from here. Did you drink that water?” He gestures at the stream, untouched by the carnage mere feet away.

Camp? Cora’s pulse quickens. Maybe she isn’t responsible for Liam being here. “No, I didn’t trust it.”

“Mmm. Can you walk?”

“I think.” She walks to the edge of the stream, but shuffling is a better way to describe her movements. Her legs hurt, her thigh especially, bruised from the creature that struck its tail on her. She can’t stop herself from grimacing every time she tests her weight on her cut leg. She deflates, hanging her head. “No.”

“I can help.” Cora snaps her head up, staring at him. He shrinks from her gaze and rubs the back of his elbow. “If you’re fine with it.”

“How–what can you do?”

Liam approaches her. She shrinks, feeling self-conscious, as if her bloody, beaten current state doesn’t speak volumes about her appearance already.

“I’ll support some of your weight. That cut on your leg, that’s the side I want you to keep your weight off of.” He drapes his arm over her shoulder and rises to his full height. His broad, muscular shoulder brushes against her own, and she feels self-conscious again.

She drapes her arm over his shoulder, leaving her injured wrist pressed to her chest. “I’ve never done this before,” she admits, staring at her feet. They’re so much smaller than his.

“Just walk. Trust me.”

Cora is tired of feeling pain. She gulps, watching Liam take the first step. She follows. She tenses, expecting the familiar spike of pain to drive into her cut shin, but the pain barely registers. They take a few more steps, slowed by her hesitation.

Step after step after step. She gains confidence. They walk a little circle around her backpack, repeating the motion, until Cora straightens her back and matches Liam’s stride.

“Thanks.” The next smile that appears comes out of nowhere. To her surprise, he smiles back, eyes crinkling and gray softening.

“I’m carrying your backpack.”

He says it as a statement. No question, no apprehension. She doesn’t dare voice her objections, not if it means that horrible inner voice shuts up. He lifts the back in one easy swoop and shrugs it on.

They slide their arms over each other’s shoulders. The motion is natural, and the walking is too. Liam takes them beyond sight of the stream, but the trickling of the water stays in the background, something the gloom can’t hope to stifle.

His long-sleeved shirt probably isn’t doing enough to ward off the cold. He’s wearing black joggers and boots, but still. The cold is everywhere. Her body might be warmer, but her face is numb, lips chapped and nose frozen to the point she fears it’ll snap right off.

Liam, though, marches them forward with a grim look of determination. His knife’s handle bobs on its sheath, pushing against her, the very tip grazing the shallow bite wound the creature left.

She keeps quiet. The pain is nothing compared to her thirst. It burns, and she works up what little saliva she can and swallows, giving her a few moments of relief. The sooner they get to the water, the better.

Liam’s eyes are locked on some target ahead. Whatever it is, she can’t tell through the gloom that envelops them, as the canopy seals and moonlight trickles through tiny patches.

How he remembers the route is beyond her understanding. He’s more well-suited to living in the alien world than she is. Maybe because he’s native to this world. He did say they’re headed to his camp, after all.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

A thorn of pain buries itself into her side. It takes all of her concentrated willpower to remain unbroken, a living statue, the same way Liam is. The handle rubs against her bite wound, and even through the fluffy blanket the contact aggravates her pain. They can’t stop now, especially not in the darkest parts of the forest she’s seen yet, so dark the purple trees melt into shadowy blobs.

She shudders. She leans into him, savoring his extra warmth and steadfast presence. How he stands strong after killing so many creatures, too, is beyond her understanding. Nothing seems to faze him. Not the cold, not the burden of helping her, not the monsters he sliced and hacked his way out of.

He’s untouchable, while she’s been broken. The creatures tore out some irreparable piece of herself. Could she have survived if she’d gone through the portal with her plans and materials?

Sure.

Thrived, even, if she had time and resources at hand. But the constant cold. The threat of predators ambushing her. The overabundance of the horrific purple trees and the crushing loneliness.

How was I so stupid? Her breath hitches in her throat. She clenches and unclenches her jaw. Not again. Cora thought herself invincible, beyond such weak emotions when she’d cracked the box’s purpose. It gave her a shield to hide behind whenever her guilt attacked for treating Mari so badly.

Yeah, and you’re treating this guy like a king while you treated me like shit. Everything’s quid pro quo for you, right?

She screws her eyes closed. The left side of her temple aches. She imagines Mari the way she last saw her, bloodied nose and all, and shoves her into the deepest recesses of her mind.

You’re not real! Leave me alone!

Liam stops. The change in momentum is sudden, and Cora’s arm acts like a lever so she thuds into his chest. Oh, no. Did she say that out loud? It’s too dark to tell what his expression might be.

He’s going to know she’s going crazy. Marbles spilling out in hordes.

“We’re almost there,” he says, quietly.

She removes herself from his chest, rocking on the balls of her feet. His arm withdraws, and she’s left bearing her full weight. Her cut leg and bruised thigh light up. She stares into the gloom, unable to make out more than blobs heaped upon blobs, bleeding into each other. Her pulse races in her ears.

“Then why are you stopping now?”

“Look, I don’t know how to say this without sounding weird or anything…” Her eyes widen. Sheepishly, he scratches his neck and clears his throat. The image is so unexpected she stares at him, mouth gaping open. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?” For good measure, he pats his sheath. It bounces under his fingers. “You barely know me. I barely know you. But with how fucked up everything is, and because you’re injured as hell, I figured I could protect you. If you want.”

Nothing about what he said is funny. Yet, she chokes out a giggle, cheeks straining from the smile that’s one hundred percent real. It’s absurd. Liam swooped in like a superhero and annihilated hordes of monsters armed with sharp teeth and claws, and yet he can’t speak to her directly.

“No, it doesn’t sound weird. I appreciate that,” she says, between bouts of giggling. The congestion in her chest clears, her airways loosen, and she takes what she feels to be her first real breath since grappling Mari onto the carpet. Even as the memories and pain push against her shored-up defenses. “Where’s this camp of yours?”

“Pretty close. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

“Interesting?”

His expression is impossible to read. She thinks she makes out a smile, but it could well be him biting his lip. “We’re almost there. I swear. I can patch you up and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

Cora nods. They set out, arms linked together, toward his “camp.” The more time she spends with him, the more she suspects his confidence is a lie. The more the dread in her stomach twists and punches the air out of her.

The trees don’t change at all. The steady trickle of the stream stays at a constant background level. Then, something almost imperceptible changes.

One moment, Cora loses herself in the gloom. The next, she sucks in a deep breath, wide-eyed. Weak light streams in through a sizable hole in the canopy.

At the center of a clearing, the shattered remnants of a toilet are scattered across the ground. The bowl is cracked but intact, lid dangling by a fractured bolt. The water tank is currently hundreds of porcelain shards thrown around the clearing.

Hulking, angular shapes lean against several trees at the far end, straddling the muddled boundary between distinct outlines and amorphous blobs.

Until they step into the clearing, and the pieces click. The shadows are medicine cabinets cracked open, the doors askew and their contents strewn out like a gutted animal’s.

Pills, bandages, gauze, tape, bottles, even more pills. The sheer variety, the eerie geometric symmetry of the remains compared to the forest, unleashes a torrent of blurry memories. Her fingers had snapped off, but no, that doesn’t make sense. They’re still attached to herself, clenched into a fist. The other brief vision of her psychiatrist prescribing anti-anxiety meds–now that makes sense.

Too little, too late. She did drag Liam into her mess, after all.

Checkmate, Mari says, her voice smug.

Cora can't help it. She laughs. The sound, shrill and high, must sound more like a desperate cry for help, because she hurts and everything sucks and the bathroom’s remains remind her of her worst choices, but Liam laughs too, and Cora can't control the half-sob, half-laugh escaping her before she processes what's going on.

“You said it was a camp,” Cora wheezes. She doubles over, groaning in pain as her wrist complains and thigh hurts. “This is a bathroom.”

“Was a bathroom,” Liam says. He gestures at the ridiculous, unnatural scenery. Cora’s fault. “When I came here… fuck, give me a second.” He sighs and plants his hands over his face.

Cora’s left to stand on her own. The sudden increase in weight on her legs hurts. She keeps her mouth shut, tuning every fiber of her being to him.

“When I came here, all of this came with me. Even my fucking toothbrush.” He drags his hands down his face, exposing his eyes. The piercing gray is still there, but the whites are bloodshot. “I still don’t think any of this shit’s real. Do you?”

“If you don’t think I’m real, then why are you asking me at all?” Cora says.

The words appear rude. She winces at the bite in her tone, but it's too late to take them back. She swears she hears an echo of Mari’s laughter. Liam digs his fingers into his cropped hair.

“That’s what I thought. Fuck. Sorry for leaving you like that.” He returns to her side and helps her close the distance to the debris.

Cora frowns as she hears Liam’s heavy, uneven breathing. He wears the same grim look of determination when he led them through the forest. Only his eyes are downcast, brow furrowed so low she glimpses the barest hint of gray.

“Hey, we’ll get through this together.” Her words clash with the final images of punching Mari and the short-lived fight afterward. She had said similar words, once, in the aftermath of that horrible day. Long before she learned about the box.

Traitor.

Cora ignores it. “I promise.”

She reaches over her shoulder and lightly squeezes his hand.

Liam pauses. The mask breaks, and once more he’s a terrified person, putting on a brave front for somebody who doesn’t deserve an ounce of help. She bites down on her tongue, savoring the fresh new wave of pain that distracts from everything else.

It’s impressive how many emotions flicker on his face at that moment, while her fingers brush against his and she softly repeats her flimsy promise.

No, not flimsy. She refuses to let her past define her.

Let it crash and burn. Let her old self wither away. Cora won’t, refuses, to be like how she was up to the moment she broke Mari’s nose. That moment injected awareness Cora had happily buried in pursuit of knowledge. Liam needs her, just as much as she needs him.

She’s the monster that ripped him from his old life and threw him here. Briefly, the more inquisitive part of her wonders why he came, and Mari didn’t.

How many others, then? How many others did I bring here, if Liam’s here? Her hand shakes. But she can’t pull away, not when she wants to change herself, fix her mistakes so both of them can go home.

Home. The word tastes both unfamiliar and familiar. Was she ever really “home?” Did she expect to find home in another world, too far from her real home, or is home something else entirely?

Neither of them have said anything, and Cora’s hand is still on his. Blushing, she pulls her arm back, stuffing her fingers into her jeans pocket.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared as fuck,” Liam says.

Cora already knew, of course. Still, her heart wrenches again at hearing him confirm it. All because of her.

“So am I,” she says. One of the few things she isn’t lying to him about. “I… I had a fight with a friend back home.” That word. Cora longs for her family. She would do anything to go back, punch herself again, if needed, screaming at her to listen to Mari.

But some actions are unforgivable.

“Oh, that sucks. And it’s been bothering you, hasn’t it?”

Cora shouldn’t be saying anything. He didn’t even ask! Yet, she can’t stop herself from talking anymore than she can stop her racing heartbeat. “Yeah, a lot. I can’t stop thinking about it, even when I’m this,” Cora pinches her thumb and index finger, “close to not making it. I’m scared, yeah, but I’m also scared for her.” Liar. Mari’s voice, but Cora ignores the stray thought. “We were together when I–”

Her stupid throat is clamming up. Once again she feels Mari’s nose crack under her fist, and the wetness trickling down Cora’s knuckles. Some things are unforgivable. She wipes away at the tears she knows are freely streaming down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” Cora mumbles.

Liam’s eyes are downcast. “No, it’s fine. I get it. When I got taken here, this shit came with me. I don’t know how, I don’t even want to think about it. You’re probably the same, right?”

She nods, sniffling. She’s supposed to keep her head up, stay strong. If Liam can do it, she can, too.

Every time she thinks of Mari, Cora’s strength dissolves.

“We’ll get through this shit. Together, like you said. Thank you for that.”

He offers a fist bump. She doesn’t see that, though, only sees his outstretched arm, so she wraps her hand around his fist, shaking it awkwardly.

“Oh, uh, oops. Yeah.” She isn’t alone. She has Liam. “Together.”

“There are some bottles of water over there.” He points at a roughly rectangular shadow outside the perimeter of faint light. Her thirst roars into existence. She forces herself to stay rooted at her spot.

“We have time to think about what to do, then.” Cora already has her objective: the mountains. But it’s not enough. She needs to flesh out the details.

“Not much, probably,” he says. Right. He kicks porcelain shards aside. He sits, and she gently lowers herself, sitting with her legs crossed. Something stabs the back of her thigh. Cora plucks a sliver of porcelain under her leg and flicks it away.

“Then we should start,” she says. Though she only wants to lie down, wrapped snug in his blanket, and wake up back home.

“True, we should. But we can’t go anywhere until we fix up your injuries.”

She glances at the medicine cabinets. The only blessing to come out of the long chain of horrible disasters. “Do you know how to use them?”

He sighs. His hands clasp together on his lap. “Please, I’m not an amateur.”

A wisp of her old self demands an answer. “Awesome. Good thing I have a talented doctor from Harvard to help me.”

“I don’t treat uninsured patients.”

His deadpan delivery overwhelms walls the cynical aspect of herself built up. Her sides hurt as she doubles over, laughing. For once, she forgets about all the bad things that are going on and revels in the moment.

Liam’s face flushes. He cracks a smile in return.