The Henhouse

Sorry

"I'm sorry."

Peter's breath in his ear made him squirm, but Justin nodded. They'd both struggled to keep pace with the others since they left Instructional Wing, giving them several meters' worth of privacy. Far ahead, Gabe and Artie led the pack- men on a mission, the latter hurtling through twisting, turning hallways with almost unsettling ease.

Peter hesitated.

"For what?" Justin said.

"I dunno," he answered. "Everything. For lying back there. I panicked. It was stupid." He ducked his head.

"....And- and for Casper."

Justin's gut soured, nausea tickling his throat while his heart thumped. Casper got more and more difficult to ignore.

"It was all my fault," Peter sighed. "I mean, I didn't fire the gun, but I should have known it would happen, I could've-"

"Stop."

Justin was loud enough to turn a few heads up the hall; Ella's green eyes fell on him for several seconds before she turned again, jogging a few steps to keep pace with the others.

"Just.... Sorry," Peter finished. Justin nodded again.

The silence made him think of Casper.

It was too much.

"Well, now we're even," he muttered at Peter.

"What?"

"We're even. That night with Ivy.... I- It wasn't my buisness. I don't know why I was there."

Peter shrugged, well as he could with Justin on his shoulders.

"You just want to know stuff," he said. "Ivy's the same way. Honestly, I think she understood you better than anyone else could."

Justin blinked; all he could think of now was Casper running from the living room in terror. Then he saw him twitching in the chair all over again as he discussed it with them, like a dysfunctional therapy session:

'How are you feeling?'

'Not okay.'

Then, guilt-tripped, Casper told Justin about Charlie... which got him taken to the basement, beaten, tortured... and finally killed- shot like a dog while pinned to his chair, where he still sat even now... destined to never escape the House, dead or alive.

The blood dribbled from Casper's neck straight into Justin's hands.

He'd failed him– time and time again, he'd failed and failed and failed....

Something in Justin broke.

It felt subtle and small, like a light bulb spluttering out. It made his breath hitch as his chest tightened.

"Hey," Peter breathed. "Everything's gonna be fine. Okay?"

Justin blinked harder, but all he could see was Casper, the wall, the blood. The blood. The blood. Forcing himself to breathe, he scoffed back.

"You're one to talk."

The falter in his voice was blatant. Peter either didn't notice or care. He grimaced.

"Things are different," he explained. "I'm different. Sort of. You helped." He shifted his shoulders, propping Justin up more. "You know, I think you need to learn to trust people more."