Page 30 of Hollow

“It’s complicated,” Flint says.

“No shit,” I reply. “I got that much.”

Damiano sighs. “We were together for two years. It ended badly. Now we’re stuck on the same island, trying to avoid each other and failing spectacularly.” He thrusts his shovel into the dirt with more force than necessary. “End of story.”

“That’s the sanitized version,” Flint mutters. “Missing a few key details.”

“Like what?” I push, oddly emboldened by the absurdity of our situation.

“Like how he disappeared for three months with no explanation,” Flint says, glaring at Damiano. “Or how he came back like nothing happened and expected everything to be normal.”

“I told you why I left,” Damiano says quietly, dangerously.

“No, you gave me some bullshit about ‘finding yourself’ in Italy,” Flint snaps. “While I was here thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“I needed space.”

“You needed an excuse,” Flint snarls, stepping closer to Damiano. “You fucking ran when things got real. Just like you always do.”

Damiano throws down his shovel, closing the distance between them. “You want to do this now? Really?” His voice drops to a menacing whisper. “You want to talk about who ran? How about when you were screwing that tourist behind my back and then acted like it meant nothing?”

“That’s not what happened, and you know it,” Flint hisses, his hands balling into fists. “But sure, twist it around. Make yourself the victim. Again.”

Damiano’s eyes darken as he steps even closer, their faces inches apart. “Fuck you.”

“You already did. Multiple times,” Flint says with a vicious smile. “Last night, in fact. Right before we found her with a dead body.”

Damiano shoves Flint hard, making him stumble back a step. “You self-righteous piece of?—”

“Enough!” I shout, standing despite my dizziness. “Are you two serious right now? Save your toxic bullshit for when we’re not standing over a murder scene!”

They both look chastened, like kids caughtfighting on the playground. The tension hangs in the air for a moment before Damiano picks up his shovel and returns to digging, deliberately putting distance between himself and Flint.

“Well, I’ll definitely remember not to ask about your past anymore. Jesus...” I mutter, grabbing my shovel. “Okay, let’s get back to work. We’re wasting time.”

I steady myself against the lightheadedness. The break helped somewhat, and while I’m still exhausted, I can’t sit and watch them do all the work. Not when I’m the reason we’re here.

We fall into a rhythm, the three of us working together in tense silence. The hole gets deeper, Liam’s body waiting to disappear beneath layers of dirt and rocks. I try not to dwell on the fact that I’m helping bury a man I killed less than twelve hours ago. I try not to think about how easily I’ve slipped into this criminal conspiracy.

But my mind keeps circling back to one thought: these two men, both obviously still so tangled up in each other, are now tangled up with me, too. Whatever history they share, I’m now part of their story. And they’re part of mine.

“This is deep enough,” Damiano says eventually, standing in a hole that now reaches his chest. He looks up at me, his expression softening. “Briar, you should step away for this part.”

He means covering the body completely. Watching Liam disappear forever.

“I need to see it,” I say, surprising myself with how calm I sound. “I need to know it’s done.”

Flint nods, understanding. “I get that.”

“Fine,” Damiano concedes, “but stand back. The soil’s loose at the edge.”

They climb out of the hole, both covered in sweat and dirt despite the cool morning air. Damiano reaches into a bag he brought and pulls out several small packets of seeds and a glass bottle filled with dark liquid.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Accelerant,” he explains, uncapping the bottle. “Natural compounds that speed up decomposition. And these—” he holds up the seed packets, “—are fast-growing plants with deep root systems. They’ll stabilize the soil and make the ground look undisturbed faster.”

“And they’ll feed off what’s underneath,” Flint adds, unnervingly matter of fact. “Circle of life and all that.”

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