The smell of gas intensifies, filling every corner of the room, making it hard to breathe. I can feel it creeping into my lungs, heavy and toxic. Hayes grabs an aluminum tray—the one Agatha used to make cinnamon buns earlier—and shoves it into the microwave. He slams the door shut and turns it on, setting the timer for ten minutes.
“Hayes, I think that only works in movies…”
Immediately, the microwave starts to spark and pop, bright flashes of light inside, tiny explosions of metal. “Go, Tori!” Hayes yells, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the door. “Run! Now!”
My body screams at me. My arm, my legs, everything hurts. I sob as we run, and Hayes grips my hand tighter.
We burst through the front doors, the night air hitting us like a cold wave. We keep running, my legs burning, my lungs aching, and just as we reach the end of the gravel drive, a deafening explosion erupts behind us. The force of it knocks us to the ground, and I can feel the heat searing my back, the rush of hot air burning my skin.
We hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt, and I scramble up, turning to see the mansion engulfed in flames, fire roaring up into the sky. The windows shatter outward, glass flying like deadly shrapnel. The roof collapses in a thunderous crash, sending up a plume of smoke and embers.
Hayes crawls over to me, pulling me close, shielding me with his body as debris rains down around us. The heat is intense, blistering, the flames reaching higher, consuming everything in their path. The sound is deafening, a roar of destruction that drowns out everything else.
For a moment, we just lie there, holding onto each other, breathing hard, watching the mansion burn. The old walls crack and splinter, beams falling like matchsticks, the entire structure collapsing in on itself.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Hayes and I watch as the mansion is engulfed in flames, the fire crackling and roaring, sending thick plumes of smoke into the night sky. The heat from the fire reaches us even here, far enough away to be safe but close enough to feel its blistering warmth on our faces.
“Look,” Hayes says, pointing beyond the mansion to the trees lining the property. The fire is spreading, leaping from branch to branch, igniting the dry wood. It crawls up the trunks, reaching higher until the tops of the trees are ablaze. The inferno moves toward the decrepit Ferris wheel, and its old, wooden cars catch fire, one by one, flames licking up their sides as black smoke fills the air.
“I hope the whole thing turns to ash,” Hayes mutters.
I nod, my eyes fixed on the flames as they destroy everything. For a moment, I dare to hope that maybe we’ve actually escaped, that maybe we’re free. But as the flames continue to consume the mansion and the sky darkens with soot and ash, I still feel her, a small flicker of her presence inside me. Burning embers drift through the air, glowing like tiny fireflies before falling, cooling into black flakes that rain down around us. The acrid smokestings my eyes and fills my lungs, and I cough, pulling my shirt over my nose to try to filter out the worst of it.
Hayes stands beside me, his expression grim as he watches the mansion burn. “It’s like the whole place is trying to take the forest with it,” he says, his voice heavy with something like resignation. “Like it’s still reaching for something, even in death.”
The smoke thickens, and for a second, I think I see shapes moving within the flames—twisted forms, ghostly faces—but I blink, and they’re gone. “Did you see that?” I whisper, not sure if my mind is playing tricks on me or if Liliana’s still somewhere within the burning ruins.
Hayes doesn’t answer me. He’s staring past the fire now, toward the road. I follow his gaze and see headlights approaching, cars pulling up to the edge of the property. People are getting out, their faces lit by the glow of the fire. They’re watching the mansion burn, and I’m surprised to see smiles, a strange mix of relief and joy. It’s like they’ve been waiting for this, waiting for the end of Everwood.
“Hayes,” I say quietly, tugging at his sleeve. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
He nods and pulls me away from the crowd. We move quickly, ducking behind the line of trees to avoid being seen. The shadows are thick, and we use them to our advantage, slipping past the onlookers who are too entranced by the flames to notice us. Hayes keeps a firm grip on my hand, leading me toward his car.
“Don’t worry about your car,” Hayes says, his voice low. “I’ll get someone to tow it to my place… or just junk it. We don’t need it right now.”
Junk my car? How would I get around? I need it to?—
“I’ll get you a new one, I promise,” he says.
I nod, too exhausted to argue. My arm still throbs with pain, the wound fresh and raw. I can feel the blood drying on my skin, sticking to my clothes. Hayes opens the passenger door for me, and I sink into the seat with a tired sigh. I watch him as he rounds the front of the car and climbs in behind the wheel.
We drive in silence, the fire growing smaller in the rearview mirror. I glance back, watching the smoke rise into the sky, blotting out the stars. I turn back around, staring ahead, trying to steady my breathing, trying to focus on the road. Hayes’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white.
“I killed them, didn’t I?”
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.“No.” He pulls the car over to the shoulder of the road and jams it into park. “Listen to me very carefully,” he begins. “Something unnatural happened in that place, something beyond you or me. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
I don’t know if he really believes that. I know I don’t. They’re all dead because of me. I look away and lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
I can feel when Hayes pulls back onto the road, and my body settles with the smooth ride of the tires over the asphalt. He holds my hand as he drives, rubbing his thumb softly over my knuckles.
I must have fallen asleep, because I bolt upright when Hayes says, “I think this is far enough.” I’m dizzy and disoriented, the corner of my mouth pooling with drool. God, I hope I wasn’t open-mouth snoring next to him.
Outside the windshield, the sun is just starting to rise, a pale sliver of light on the horizon, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Hayes pulls into an empty spot and cuts the engine.
