When Noa woke up, Gary arranged for him to have a meal. He was given a very sad paper plate with some sandwiches.

Noa was annoyed with himself. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep after his talk with Dr. Maes. He laid down and closed his eyes for a few minutes and somehow dozed off.

He was equally annoyed with his sandwiches. He didn’t want to eat, even though he felt hunger gnawing at him. The bread was dry and unappetizing. He picked away at it, nibbling small bites. He only ate half a sandwich before giving up and laying back down on his good side.

“Hey, Noa.”

Noa curled in on himself further. Gary was still there, watching him. Noa didn’t think he’d left the room at all when he’d fallen asleep.

He hated it.

“Is there anything you like to do?” Gary continued. “You must be pretty bored.”

“I like drawing,” Noa muttered. He really missed his sketchbooks. “And painting. And music. And video games.”

“Oh, nice. What’s your favourite game?” Gary asked.

Noa shrugged.

“I’m pretty big into Halo but you’re a bit young for that, technically. Not that that stops a lot of kids,” Gary said. “Are you into FPS games or are you more of an RPG kind of guy…?”

Annoying. Gary was annoying. Noa didn’t want to answer, balling himself up.

“…Well, that’s cool,” Gary said when Noa didn’t respond. “Did you want me to get you something to draw with? I can bring some things in for you, if you want. We could even wheel in a TV and put on a movie or something. Feel up to that?”

Noa hesitated and then turned to glance over at Gary. “You can get art supplies?”

“Yeah. For sure,” Gary said. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Noa said.

It was an easy thing to agree to. Art gave him an outlet, freedom. He could draw anything, immerse himself in anything he could imagine. If he could think of it, he could draw it. It made him feel in control and it let him express things that he couldn’t put into words.

He wanted his sketchbooks most of all, but he was sure that he wouldn’t get them. Still, anything was better than nothing.

“Done,” Gary said. “Art supplies. Got it. Just one second.”

He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Noa sat up, surprised. There was a way to make his nurse leave? Were they not watching him as hard as he thought? Or did Dr. Maes say something? Or…

Or was it that Noa was locked in a room with nothing to hurt himself with?

He relaxed a little. That would make more sense. And it was a good thing, as far as Noa was concerned. It meant that maybe he could get them to leave him alone. He could have some privacy…

But before Noa could seriously consider it, the door was opening again. Gary was back and he wasn’t alone.

“Looks like you have some visitors, Noa,” Gary announced.

It was the Murphys; his aunt, uncle, and Peter. They looked worn down and tired as they came in but somehow all of them still managed to smile.

It was weird seeing them here. They looked normal, dressed in regular clothes and winter coats. It clashed with the hospital atmosphere and all the gowns and scrubs. It made him feel underdressed and exposed.

“Hey, Noa,” Aunt Elaine greeted him.

“I’ll get you guys some chairs,” Gary offered. “One minute.”

He slipped out again, leaving the four of them alone together.

Noa sat straight. The stitches in his side prickled in complaint but he ignored them.

“Hi,” he said.

“How are you feeling?” Uncle Charlie asked.

“Awful,” Noa said honestly.

“I’ll bet,” his aunt said. “They told us you got stitches.”

“I fell on a big piece of glass.”

“That…that must have really hurt.”

Noa didn’t know what to say or how to feel. He gave a small nod to show that he was listening.

Gary came back with some chairs for them, interrupting them with perfect timing.

“I’ll just step out for a bit and give you some privacy,” Gary said. “The call button is that red button above the bed. Just press it if you need anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter said.

“Thank you,” Uncle Charlie added.

Gary left them again. The Murphys all pulled up chairs. Noa, meanwhile, pulled his pillow closer, fiddling with the corner.

“Noa, what happened?” Peter finally asked, breaking the silence.

Noa knew the question was coming, but he didn’t want to answer. He hunched his shoulders, curling inwards.

“We’ve all been really worried,” Peter continued. “And Rion’s hurt. Why? What went on between you? Why did you–?”

“Peter,” Aunt Elaine said. “Noa might not be ready to talk about it.”

“I know that, but I can’t just not ask,” Peter said, his voice strained. “Everyone was really, really worried. We were all really scared, Noa. Why did you…? Was it the pictures?”

Noa shrugged stiffly, keeping his gaze down. He switched from picking at his pillow to picking at the bandages on his hands.

He didn’t want to talk about the pictures.

They were proof, evidence of what happened the day Amber died. They were blurry and unfocused, the camera lens having been pressed up against Amber’s knees, but Noa could tell what they were. It was proof that he and Rion had carried Amber’s body into the cabin.

He remembered Amber’s blood on his hands, hot, heavy, sticky…

“Noa…” Peter began again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Noa said, swallowing thickly.

“But why?”

Aunt Elaine put a hand on her son’s arm. “Peter…”

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was fighting to calm down. Noa didn’t blame him. Peter was right to be upset.

“We’re just worried about you, Noa,” Uncle Charlie said. “It’s okay if you need some time to work through things.”

Noa looked at them – really looked. They were tired and worn down. It was obvious because of Peter. He was normally calmer and more composed.

It hurt to see them like this. Because Noa knew he did this to them. It was his fault. He made them stress and worry and lose sleep…

Why couldn’t they see that he was the problem?

“Rion and I had a stupid argument,” Noa finally said. “It was my fault. I broke the glasses. I… I’m sorry for making a mess.”

“Oh, Noa, that’s the least of our concerns,” Aunt Elaine said. “We know you didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

She was right but Noa was tempted to lie and contradict her. He wanted her to be angry, not forgiving. She should be angry. They all should be.

“We were all so scared,” Peter said. “The others have been calling, wanting to know if you and Rion are okay…”

More people that were hurt by him. Danny and Celeste and Jesse…

Noa was poison. He was toxic.

“I should have drowned…”

The words came out before he could stop them. But it was true. He meant it.

“What?” Aunt Elaine said. “What are you…? No.”

“I should have been drowned as a kid,” Noa said more firmly this time, committing to his own words. “I do things wrong. I wreck everything. I hurt people. I hurt you. My parents were right about me. I should have died. I should be dead. Because then I couldn’t hurt you and you could all be happy without me.”

They looked shocked and hurt and Noa hated it. Because they weren’t angry. He could tell they didn’t agree with him at all. And he was hurting them even more just by speaking but he had to try and make them understand.

And it was true. Everything he said was the truth.

Every day was hard for Noa, living in the Murphy home. Every day he was reminded of what he had done the second he stepped out of his room and he saw Amber’s closed door. It made even happy times with his aunt and uncle or Peter hurt because he knew what he’d done. Not just to Amber but to them. There was no escaping it.

Noa killed Amber. He was a murderer living under the Murphys’ roof. He killed his own cousin, his aunt and uncle’s daughter, Peter’s sister… And they cared and worried about him.

How was that right? How did that make sense?

It made Noa sick to his stomach.

“Noa…” Aunt Elaine began. “We love you–”

“It’s my fault Amber’s dead,” Noa cut her off.

“No, it’s not,” Per said. “We know you did everything you could. It was an electrical fire, just some stupid, awful faulty wiring. You burned your hand trying to save her–”

Why did everyone think that? Why did that always keep coming up? Who told them that lie? Was it Rion? Did they just assume?

How could his burned hand, the one he’d braced on a burning wall like an idiot, be turned into something selfless and heroic? That wasn’t him. He wasn’t good.

But he couldn’t tell them the truth. If he told them he pushed Amber, then he’d have to explain how she got into the cabin. He’d have to tell them how the fire started.

He couldn’t tell them that Rion put Amber in the bathtub…

He couldn’t tell them that Rion…

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to believe that it was true, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes. It wasn’t Rion’s fault! He only wanted to protect him…

Noa was forced to swallow the lie. And he hated it.

“Get out,” he said.

“Noa–” his uncle began this time.

“Get out!” Noa snapped, raising his voice. “Go away! You don’t understand anything!”

He threw himself down on the bed with too much force, smothering his face into his pillow. His side strained in pain from the sharp movement but he didn’t care.

“Noa!”

“No, no! Peter, let’s… If he wants us to go then we should.”

“But he–!”

“Your father’s right. Let’s… We can come back later.”

Noa could hear them talking but he lay there, stiff and still and unresponsive. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to shut them out.