Paul in the Room

"How did you get into my room?" Paul asked.

Hope replied, "I snuck in before you came back. You know my ability—once I've been somewhere, I can come back anytime."

"What do you want?"

Hope looked at Paul. Paul looked at the ceiling.

The blond young man was visibly weak, the sudden accident having ground him down to half a corpse. Just lying there, his whole bedroom reeked of an oppressive, weary exhaustion.

"Do you remember that day in my bedroom?" Hope said.

"Of course."

"Do you remember how Robert died?"

"I didn't see it, but you said it was an invisible monster."

Hope heard Paul's breathing grow heavier and knew he'd already guessed something. So he went on: "It 'ate' Robert, devoured him completely, clothes and bones and all. Robert didn't even struggle..."

Paul reached out and slammed his fist against the wall with a thump, cutting Hope off.

"Don't say any more. I don't want to hear it," Paul said.

The wall here wasn't like the wooden boards at Old Williams's house or Whateley House—it was real brick and stone. Paul's hand was already scraped and bleeding from the blow.

The sound carried outside. Someone heard it. Footsteps hurried closer, and a knock came at the door.

It was Colin: "You okay, Paul?"

"Fine," Paul said, forcing lightness.

Colin hesitated. "Let me in. We can talk."

"Give me a bit more time. Let me be alone a little longer. I'll come find you soon," Paul answered.

"How did they come into contact?" Paul asked Hope. "I mean my parents and that monster—how did they run into it?"

"An accident," Hope replied. "No one could have seen that kind of accident coming. That thing seemed to keep growing, until one day it burst out of its room and flowed here like a flood."

Paul nodded. "Bad luck."

Hope didn't answer. Paul asked again, "Did they suffer when they died?"

"No pain. Just an instant..."

Hope froze. He suddenly realized he had no right to say that. He wasn't the one who got eaten. How could a bystander know what the victim felt? He shook his head.

"I don't know. But Mr. Corey was still cursing that invisible monster until the very end."

At that last line, Paul laughed. "That does sound like him. He was vicious with his tongue. Sawyer couldn't even lift his head after getting chewed out a few times."

They fell into silence.

Hope tried several times to say something, but his open mouth couldn't produce a sound. Paul's pain suffocated him.

Until Paul spoke first: "You seem like you've got something else to say to me."

"What did Mr. Sawyer say at the funeral? You looked pretty worked up," Hope asked. He knew that wasn't what he really wanted to say, so he didn't look at Paul.

"Nothing much, really. That old bastard said in his eulogy: 'Though Mr. Corey was only an outsider, we still honor his memory.' Damn it, Dad's been here twenty years, and he called him an outsider... I lost my head, grabbed the groundskeeper's gun, wanted to sober him up. Ended up passing out myself."

Hope didn't say Wilbur was behind it. He knew Paul probably didn't want to hear about the Whateley family right now.

He took a breath. "There's something I have to tell you."

"I could tell. You've been thinking about something else from the start."

Hope nodded. "I had a chance to save Mr. Corey..."

Paul patted him. "I don't want to hear that either. Don't use me as a trash can. I don't want to listen to you say you regret it. What's done is done, so don't start with 'it didn't have to be this way.' I'm only asking you this: did you do your duty as a friend? Did you try?"

Hope closed his eyes. "I think... yes. I did my best. Mr. Corey almost thought I was a thief and nearly shot me, but I still warned them to leave quickly... just a little too late."

"Then that's enough. You did well. You're worthy of being my friend," Paul said lightly. "Dad was steady with a gun, wasn't he? He used to be a sheriff somewhere. Came to Dunwich for Mom."

"He was damn cool," Hope replied. He relaxed. The emotions he'd suppressed for three days finally found release. Paul's words—"worthy of being my friend"—gave him immense comfort. "How many days off did you take?"

"A full month," Paul answered. "I came early anyway, so I've got a whole month's leave. In that month, like I said before—if you need help, I hope you'll come to me."

"Of course."

"One more thing," Paul said. "I can't pretend my parents' deaths never happened. Since you've told me who the killer is, in a month I'll carry Dad's gun and come find you. I don't care what you're doing or planning to do, and I'm not looking to chat.

"When that day comes, I'll aim Dad's rifle at Wilbur or Old Whateley's head. Taking both of them would be best. Getting one is fine too. Even if I can't kill a single one, I can't just do nothing. If this causes you trouble, I'm sorry, but I can't offer you compensation."

He said it with utter calm, even a hint of mockery toward the end.

But Hope didn't think he was joking.

Hope licked his lips, wanting to talk Paul out of it, but he couldn't find a single reason.

He patted Paul's shoulder, then rolled over on the bed to the other side, where Paul couldn't see him. He closed his eyes. Uncertainty activated.

The last thing he heard was Paul's crying. All the exhaustion, confusion, and helplessness in the room vanished, flowing out through Paul's tear ducts as tears.

Today is June 11th, the fifth day since Elizabeth left.

She hasn't returned, and of course, neither has the esteemed Professor Armitage.

Hope has stopped expecting Professor Armitage to descend like a divine soldier; no matter how much he tries to convince himself, he has to admit he holds some resentment toward Elizabeth.

But this afternoon, things took a slight turn.

Today's Arkham GG-Man had an article that caught Hope's attention: "Miskatonic University's Philip Library—The Largest Library in Bay State."

A picture accompanied the article, likely the library's main entrance, shot from an odd angle, probably to avoid the crowd. The photo was taken sideways to the front door, so it also captured the lawn and tree shade beside the library.

Very clear.

Hope realized he could visit that renowned campus himself.