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It was supposed to be simple. But just like everything in Kieren’s life, it all goes to shit in the most spectacular of ways. Like everything in Kieren’s shit life, more like, it’s because of the worm that’s been torturing him.
Pablo managed to track the worm down to a little town in South Carolina, and Kieren hadn’t hesitated about packing a bag and booking a flight. He’d left his mum a note, but he hadn’t stopped once his feet passed the front door.
He’d managed a half a day in Annieville before the hurricane came. And all of hell with it.
The levees broke, ocean water flooding in and smashing cars, buildings, homes. And with it followed sharks. A fucking lot of them.
He’s thousands of miles away from home, and caught in a category five hurricane. And the cherry on top of the shit cake is that there’s dozens of hungry bull sharks circling the water outside. He’s freezing, and hungry, and pissed off. And he’s trapped in a house with the most annoying person he’s ever met.
Seriously. The guy gives Kieren’s sister a run for her money in the most insufferable human competition. Ron, his name is. Blond, tall, irriating as fuck. His accent is like nails on a chalkboard, and unfortunately for Kieren, the dude doesn’t know how to stop talking.
He’s grateful that the guy pulled him into the house. Kieren’s leg was bruised and cut from a streetlight falling on him. If it weren’t for the blond, he’d probably be dead.
“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” The blond grunts as he slams his fists against the door, failing to budge the fallen tree blocking them in. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour.
“You’re going to attract the sharks,” Kieren mumbles, annoyed.
Ron scoffs, wipes the sweat from his brow. He turns to glare at Kieren. “They fuckin’ know we’re in here, genius.”
“Yeah, because you keep fucking banging. We’re trapped, you going all hulk smash on the door isn’t going to change that.”
Ron shucks off his sopping jumper, throwing it onto the ground somewhere. It lands with an audible thwack. “Aren’t you Australian?”
“So?” Kieren picks at his fingernails.
Ron rolls his eyes. “So, don’t you know how to, like, tame ‘em?”
Kieren stares at Ron for a few seconds. Very hard. He doesn’t know if he’s telepathically trying to make Ron’s head explode or if he wants to ask the boy to repeat himself. “You’re asking me if I know how to tame a bull shark?”
The blond flushes a deep red. “You don’t have to be a dick.”
Kieren rolls his eyes.
“Why are you even here?” Ron asks, furrowing his brows.
Kieren shrugs, a chill climbing up his arms, settling onto his shoulders like a jacket. “You invited me in.”
“No. Why’re you here, in Annieville?”
Kieren bites back a smart ass response of mind your own business. Ron saved his life. He’s at least owed a question. So, as much as he’d like to tell the blond boy to kick rocks, he doesn’t.
He doesn’t even know the guy. Doesn’t expect to live long enough to get the chance, either. They’re going to die of starvation, or drowning, or being mauled by a shark any second now.
Kieren feels strangely vulnerable, sitting on the floor of a stranger’s house, rain-soaked and cut up from where the streetlight fell on his leg. He shivers. But it isn’t the damp clothes sticking to his skin that has him shivering. It’s the way Ron’s eyes meet his across the room.
Ron is staring at him. Intense blue eyes boring holes into Kieren’s own eyes. It’s startling. Kieren looks down as he speaks.
“The worm brought me here.”
It’s silent for a second after he says it, almost like the hurricane itself stopped. Kieren expects laughter, or another scoff. He doesn’t get either.
What he receives is silence.
The worm controls him. It tells him what to think, to eat, to say. It takes over his body and controls his arms. It hurts the people Kieren loves. It hurts him. It makes him want to hurt himself. It tells him that he should.
The worm is out to get him, so Kieren has to get it first. That’s just life. It’s what his dad used to always say. Kieren, life is tough. You have to be tougher.
His dad should’ve taken his own advice.
Ron opens his mouth and closes it a few times. “A worm.”
“No. The worm.”
“The worm,” Ron repeats. “Why did it bring you here?”
“I need to find it. And squish it.”
Ron accepts this. He nods. “Okay. Why?”
Kieren opens his mouth, but finds that words have failed him. His stomach churns. It seems simple. He finds the worm, squishes it, and he's free. But that doesn’t feel right.
“I don’t know,” Kieren whispers. “It’s been tormenting me for months. Telepathically torturing me. It hurts my family. I slapped my sister because it told me to. Ever since my dad died.”
“Ah.” Ron says, as if he suddenly understands something, and it makes Kieren angry in a way he doesn’t know how to explain.
“What?”
Ron inclines his head. “It’s grief. The worm. Its.. it’s grief, Kieren.”
“You don’t know shit.” Kieren fumes. “You think because we’re trapped in here together it means we’re the same? Fuck you.”
Ron sighs. “That’s not what I—“
“You’re just like Astrid. You don’t listen. Nobody ever fucking listens!”
“I know what it’s like to lose a dad.” Ron is staring down at the floor as he speaks, tracing a pattern into the wood with his pointer finger.
“When?” Kieren asks, quietly. He watches as Ron rakes his free hand through his golden curls.
“A year ago. Drug OD.”
“I’m sorry.” Kieren whispers, wanting to reach out, to console the other boy, but he doesn’t. His fingertips tingle with the urge to touch.
“S’okay.”
Kieren shakes his head, throat tight. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have.. I get it. My dad hung himself in our backyard two months ago. He always used to tell me to be tough, you know? Stick it to ‘em. I guess he found his courage on the other end of the rope.”
The tears start to fall, and Kieren covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice is muffled through his palms.
He feels the warmth of Ron’s hand on his shoulder. The blond is closer than he was a second ago. “It’s okay. Anger means you’re processing it.”
Kieren looks out from between his hands. “Where’d you learn this shit?”
Ron smiles. “My mama. She was a psychologist.”
Was.
Kieren swallows, about to ask, but Ron beats him to it. “She had cancer. Died a few months ago. That’s how we ended up with the Olson’s.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They suck, but it’s a roof over Dee and Will’s heads, and food in their bellies. It could be a lot worse.”
Kieren hums. He reaches out tentatively, and Ron doesn’t even have to look at him as he hands him the other pop tart.
They eat quietly, and Ron finishes first, wiping the icing off on his jeans. It’s near silent between them for a few minutes. They both stare out the window, watching, waiting.
The ever present threat of death lingers. It sucks all of the air out of the room. It makes Kieren nauseous, though he won’t admit it. He doesn’t want to die. It’s why he’s trying so hard to find the goddamn worm.
It’ll all be okay once he finds it. Everything can go back to normal. His mum will be able to look at him again without bursting into tears. Astrid might not hate him as much. His nan might not call him by his father’s name anymore.
He’ll finally be able to look at himself in the mirror again.
Ron has his arms wrapped around his pulled up knees. They’re sitting across from each other on the floor, feet apart.
“There is no worm,” Ron says, quietly. “It’s always been just you. Y’get that, don’t ya?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kieren snaps. He feels taut, a second away from coming apart. He wants Ron to leave. To turn on his heel and walk away, just like everyone else. Kieren has always taken a sick sort of satisfaction in proving his family right.
But he doesn’t feel satisfied now. He feels like he might vomit. His gut is rolling with the way Ron is watching him. Like he cares, or something. It’s distracting. It’s a lie. It’s a trap. It has to be. Because, if there’s no worm, then all along—it’s just been Kieren. And he can’t cope with that. Being Kieren is the scariest thing in the world.
Kieren tries very, very hard not to cry. He doesn’t cry. He didn’t cry when his dad hung himself on the tree in the backyard. He didn’t cry when Astrid threw a bag of his clothes at him and told him to get lost. He’s not going to cry when this blond hick is mean to him. He won’t.
“I’m sorry,” Ron looks away, sounding ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Whatever,” Kieren sniffs. He turns his attention back to the hurricane, watching a car get swallowed up by the water. He shivers at the sight of a fin.“Just fuck off.”
“No.”
“No?” Kieren repeats, startled.
“Yeah. No, I won’t fuck off. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s not like either of us have any other choice. There’s an eight foot bull shark outside. There’s nowhere to fuck off to.”
Kieren shakes his head, but Ron cuts in. “Look. We don’t have to be friends or nothing. But we’re stuck here until help comes. I don’t want to fight.”
The exhaustion in his voice has Kieren pausing.
“I’m scared, too.” Ron’s bottom lip wobbles.
“I’m not scared.” Kieren lies. The lie burns on his tongue.
“Okay. Well I am.” Ron admits, sniffing. The wind batters against the windows, howling through the broken glass. “My little sister and brother are missing. Billy got his arm ripped off, and I might be next. I’m fuckin’ terrified. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”
At that exact moment, the wind shatters the glass, sending sharp jagged pieces flying toward them. Ron hisses as he reaches down, fingers covered in blood.
“Fuck. Holy fuck,” Kieren panics, standing up. “What do I—fuck-“
“Shut the hell up,” Ron snaps. “It’s just fuckin—“
“It’s in your leg, dude! It’s in your fucking leg!”
A loud thumping noise cuts them both short. They whip around toward the back door, where a large female bull shark is ramming her way through.
“Oh, fuck.”