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Laurie has always been a lonely boy.
Living with the Lennox-Halls meant that reaching out to those beyond your family was a certain no go. Trying to communicate and make friends was a death sentence for them, and talking about the garden was a punishment. A deadly one, in fact. He can still taste the soil clogging his mouth, stuffing the back of his throat and making him choke. His eyes would sting, tears pouring down the sides of his cheeks as he struggled to breathe, nostrils flaring desperately as small pieces of sediment would be drawn in by the frantic intakes of breath.
At one point, Laurie had had his mother and father and his friend, Evander. Everyone called Evander an imaginary friend, but he hadn't believed that for the longest time. If Evander were an imaginary friend, then how did Laurie see him? How did he feel him? It didn't make any sense to the lonely boy.
He had his grandfather at one point, too. In a certain way, of course. Byron of Hazelthorn is a recluse, a man that rarely allows anyone into his home. The three he would mainly allow were Laurie, his mother and his father. Others would have to beg and plead and plan far in advance for a chance to step foot on the thorny and rosy grounds that are choked by the infamous garden.
The garden that Laurie absolutely adored. He used to take Evander out amongst the flowers and bushes and run free, exploring it like it were a grand jungle and not a simple garden. He'd play hide and seek with Evander, finding the boy hiding behind bushes or thick vines that curled like claws trying to find something to grab and strangle.
Laurie never minded the throttling anger that filled the air of the garden. He'd brush through the underbrush and the leaves and roses would kiss his cheeks. They'd caress his skin, while he'd see the same branches scratch and bite at his grandfather. He used to wonder why, but then he'd see the way Lord Byron would stab at the plants with spear shaped shears, snapping through rose bush throats and tossing them aside like they were nothing.
Meanwhile, Laurie would hold a flower delicately in his hand so that Evander could see it. So Evander could trace a little finger along the pretty petals that reminded Laurie of his lips.
Evander was a pretty boy, Laurie thought. If he were his imaginary friend, then how could he be so pretty?
Evander fit in with the garden, Laurie thought, too. He was like a flower himself, his curly brown hair flaring wildly behind him as they ran through the brush.
“Do you think I'll grow as tall as the trees one day?” Evander had asked. He stood on top of a short brick wall, balancing on it as he walked beside Laurie. Naked vines covered in thorns twisted up either side of this wall, clawing at the stone and mortar. As if they could sink in like it was flesh.
“Nah,” Laurie said. He smirked at Evander’s offended expression, and he shrugged his shoulders. “You're not like the garden, Evander. You don't grow like it.”
“Well maybe I should be like the garden,” Evander said. He dropped to his knees on top of the wall, hands placed in front of himself to stay balanced. He'd leaned forward, his eyes shining with a feral glint. He grinned, all sharp and wild as his dark hair fell around his shoulders like a mess. “Then I could be big and strong. I could protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” Laurie asked with a scoff. He crossed his arms over his chest and faced the wild boy, his brows raised.
“From the garden,” Evander replied. This had confused Laurie, but it hadn't mattered.
Laurie loved the garden. And he loved Evander.
But then he learned about the truth of the garden. He saw his second or so cousin Bane drag a woman through by her ponytail, watching as the woman screamed and thrashed desperately. Her eyes were wide with fear and pain, and the sight and sound of it made Laurie's stomach curl, and made him feel sick. He wanted to step out- to confront Bane and make him let the woman go. But Bane was so large and strong, and Laurie was so small and thin, and he never risks himself for anything unless it involves Evander.
He pressed himself closer to Evander, hidden in a rose bush that seemed to purposefully canopy over them, and could only watch as Bane took a knife and drove it deep into the woman’s throat.
Her blood flew out of her neck like red roses, bursting forth before splattering on the ground. Bane had dropped her to the ground; kicked her towards the dirt. She was still writhing as Laurie stared, one of his hands pressed over Evander’s mouth to keep his friend quiet. Evander was a wild boy- and sometimes sweet. So for him to see this, it must have been a shock.
After Bane cut the dead woman up, he found Laurie and Evander in the bushes. He snorted at the boys with wide eyes, and then continued walking, a red ruby gripped in his hand. When Laurie looked back at the woman, where Bane had half heartedly started to bury her, he could see thorny vines curling around her body, dragging her beneath the ground.
His head spinned. The garden that he loved ate people.
After he went inside, his grandfather berated him once more for playing in the garden. Laurie knew he hadn't really been allowed to, but he'd never known why. Then his grandfather explained the Lennox-Halls’ relationship with the garden. He told Laurie about the garden's purpose.
Laurie never allowed Evander to wander in the garden anymore. Not when he knew that as long as you're not a Lennox-Hall, you're not safe in it. If you're not a Lennox-Hall, and you're in the garden, then you're marked for slaughter. He kept Evander inside, even as the wild boy clawed at the windows and begged him to go back outside. His friend craved the sun, the fresh air, the scent of plants in the wind, but he was never allowed to be free.
“I want to go back outside,” Evander complained. The pretty boy struggled in Laurie’s arms, where the lonely boy was holding him. He was bigger and stronger than Evander, and wouldn't let him get out to the garden. “I miss the garden!”
Laurie gritted his teeth and set Evander back down farther back from the doors that led outside. He brushed Evander’s dark hair around to fix it from how it'd become messed up, his lips pursed. “We're never going in the garden again,” he declared. In an instant, Evander’s face fell. He tried to run past again, only for Laurie to tackle him. This time, the wild boy bit down on the lonely boy. His teeth were sharp, like rose thorns, but they didn't pierce flesh. They never did. Laurie always wondered why they didn't back then.
He probably deserved the bite. But it didn't matter.
He'd never let Evander into the garden ever again.
And then his mother and father started arguing. He'd hear them at night. They probably thought he was asleep, but he'd listen to their voices raise to crescendos as his mother begged for his father to put a stop to the Hazelthorn garden. Laurie quietly agreed with her, his heart aching any time he thought of all the blood red rubies around the house, around the manor. The mark of the Lennox-Hall family’s wealth; the mark of their crimes. His father would shout back that she needed to drop the topic, to stop talking about it. But she never did. Not even when they would visit Hazelthorn. In fact, her protests seemed to only grow louder there.
Evander would shrink away from the shouting when they sat on the banister over the main foyer. His mom, dad and grandfather all stood in the center, yelling and arguing. Evander never liked loud noises like that; he was a special boy, soft and sweet but wild and untamed and ready to bite. He was like a cat: sweet until you drove him too far. Then he'd sink teeth like rose thorns in your skin. Laurie never minded when Evander bit him. He probably deserved it when it did happen.
The fighting continued for a long time. Laurie thinks it started when he was nine, and kept going even into his tenth birthday. He and Evander celebrated alone that year; his mother, father and grandfather weren't around for it. His father and grandfather had disappeared into the garden, and he didn't know where his mother was. They told him to stay in the kitchen, and to “play with Evander”. Laurie didn't normally mind doing so, but there was something off about his father and grandfather when they stepped outside. His father moved stiff, like he was made of tree branches. His grandfather had a weird look on his face, as if his windpipe were filled with thorns.
“What do you think they're doing?” Evander asked Laurie. They were in the kitchen. Evander stood at one of the windows, peering through the glass and past twisting vines covered in thorns. He stood on the tips of his toes- he'd always been shorter than Laurie back then.
“I don't care,” Laurie replied. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but they hadn't even gotten him a birthday cake. He and Evander have been eating oreos the last ten minutes straight from the container, causing a mess of chocolate dust all over the floor and table. Evander liked oreos, but Laurie had never been that big of a fan of them. He'd rather have cake. “They're probably killing another bush.”
“But your dad doesn't help with the garden,” Evander said. He ducked his head a little- probably to see beneath a sprawling branch. “Your grandfather only works on the garden.”
That made Laurie pause. He looked up from the oreo dust he was pushing around with a finger tip, holes where he'd pressed into it forgotten. He pushed to his feet and padded over to stand beside Evander, because the smaller boy was right. Grandfather doesn't let his father help the garden. He doesn't let anyone help with the garden. Not unless they snuck out without his notice.
Something felt wrong. Laurie’s stomach twisted. He suddenly regretted all the oreos he ate.
“Stay here,” he said to Evander. He quickly pulled on a pair of nearby house slippers- he couldn't remember if they were his, but they had slipped all over his feet when he walked so maybe they weren't. Evander frowned as Laurie opened the door and went out ahead on his own, the slippers smacking against the ground as he disappeared into the plants and life of the garden.
It didn't take long for him to hear the shouting and yelling. The arguing. He first heard his father, and then his grandfather. He thought he heard his mother at one point, but he still wasn't sure. Not after what happened. He followed the shouting match, slipping through a bright red door into an enclosed section. Circular walls withheld the dirt covered area, where vegetation didn't seem to grow. Instead, vines and rose branches clawed their way down the inside of the walls, reaching down hungrily, angrily.
Laurie stopped dead in his tracks when the gleam of a knife flickered in front of him, held high over his grandfather’s head. It swung down in a deadly arch, before it came down, down, down- right into the chest of Laurie’s mother. His father was holding her, keeping her still, and the moment the blade pierced her flesh, blood spurted free and his mother choked on a cry.
His eyes widened, and he heard himself scream as she crumpled like a dying lily. Both his father and grandfather’s eyes darted to him in an instant, and the horror on the former’s face only doubled. The man’s face paled, and his hands released Laurie’s mother thoughtlessly. Laurie felt strangled by vines as his mother fell to the ground limply, as if she'd been nothing more than a puppet and her strings were cut. Her skin became dirtied in an instant, her blonde hair splaying around her like a halo of gold.
They were feeding her to the garden.
The eyes of his dying mother landed on Laurie. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, but all he wanted to do was scream. And yet, he can't. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His legs shook under him.
“Laurence,” his grandfather said. His voice was hard and cold as a blade- like the blade that cut through his mother’s flesh. She’s still on the ground, her blood pooling on the stones and in the dirt of the garden. “I told you to stay inside.”
“You…” his father started and stopped, as if he couldn't breathe either. Laurie stared at his mother, unable to look away. He should go to her. He should rush over and help her. He should move. But he found himself unable to. He was always a coward. “You're… supposed to be playing with Evander.”
“I told you that fake friend wasn't enough,” his grandfather snapped. “I told you to lock him away.”
“I wasn't going to lock up my son, Father!” his father exclaimed. His hands were shaking where they were on the ground, some of Laurie’s mother’s blood staining them. “You already made me kill my wife!”
“I did the killing,” his grandfather said, as if it were nothing. As if killing Laurie’s mother was nothing. “You just held her. Take care of the boy. I'll finish with her.”
“No!” his father shouted. He suddenly moved, placing his hands over Laurie’s mother. He was breathing hard, the whites of his teeth flaring as he snarled. “I'll- I’ll take care of her!”
“Dammit, son!” his grandfather shouted back. Laurie stumbled back a step. Both of their eyes launched back towards him.
“Evander…” Laurie murmured. He needed Evander. Evander would help him. He took another stumbling step, and then turned to run back to Hazelthorn. His grandfather cursed, said something to his father, and then gave chase.
Laurie nearly tripped over several times as he ran back. He could hear his grandfather chasing after him. If Laurie hadn't been small enough to duck beneath thorny vines and between pressed close bushes, he's sure the man would have caught up with him. But at the time, he was slippery, and able to get back to Hazelthorn before his grandfather.
He ignored the way his grandfather shouted his name after him. How he demanded Laurie stop running or else.
He slammed through the door and then closed it hard, his breathing ragged. His eyes landed on Evander, and he quickly caught the other boy’s hands.
“Laurie?” Evander said, a frown tugging his lips downwards.
“Evander-” Laurie choked out. “My father, my grandfather. They-”
He yelped when the back of his collar was suddenly grabbed. He got yanked back, and dragged into the garden once more. He watched Evander disappear. Where did he go? Why wasn't he following? Sure, he'd never been brave enough to face Laurie’s family in the past, but he still trailed after them. Still made sure to keep Laurie company even as he was punished for speaking of the garden or getting slapped for saying something too improper.
Why wasn't he coming?
“Evander-” Laurie started weakly.
“Now listen here, Laurence,” his grandfather grounded out. There was an odd edge to his voice- a tightness to it. It sounded almost as tight as the grip he had on Laurie’s collar. Laurie tripped on a loose stone in the grass, and his grandfather yanked him back up. He had no idea where his grandfather was taking him. But then he saw the familiar turn in the garden, and his pulse quickened. They were going back?
“You are to never say anything about today to anyone,” his grandfather continued. He pushed Laurie forward, through the red garden door and into the walled off area. The little boy stood at the entrance, staring down through wide eyes and with a strikingly pale face. His father was shoveling dirt over a bump in the ground. His mother. “And do not ask why this happened. The reason is because your mother didn't stop asking questions.”
Laurie doesn't remember his mom asking questions. He just remembers her telling them to stop. His legs shook underneath himself, and his mouth was so dry he could almost feel cotton clogging the back of it.
The old man points a wrinkly finger in the direction of his father… and the dirt bump that is his mother. Laurie swallows down a cry, his hands shaking, his eyes stinging.
“Say anything to anyone,” his grandfather continues. “And you'll end up like her. Do you understand?”
But Laurie couldn't speak. He could only stare. His father leaned heavily against the shovel, the spade of it sticking in the ground, the handle serving as a crutch. His father’s face was pale, his eyes so wide Laurie thought that they would pop out of his skull.
A gnarled hand roughly grabbed his chin, yanking his face towards his grandfather’s. “Do you understand?” he demanded.
He could only manage a nod.
His father and grandfather killed his mother. They fed her to the garden. He could already see vines shifting beneath the dirt, wrapping around her corpse and squeezing it.
His grandfather stepped to the plot and reached into the dirt, bringing out a ruby the size of a fist. Bile rose up in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it back down.
His mother was dead.
He wanted Evander, but Evander is nowhere in sight.
Where did Evander go?
Once again, Laurie is nothing but a lonely boy.