With a chilling determination, Andy marched up the stairs, then ran into the burning house, vanishing through a thick screen of smoke.
They watched in horrified silence as the whole place came tumbling down, sending a vortex of smoke and ash into the air. Chris's eyes stung, yet he couldn't look away. He needed to be certain that no one left that house alive.
This is where my demons die.
Ethan kissed the top of Chris’s head, his arms wrapped around him. “Are you okay?”
“I think... I think I’m going to pass out now.”
“Go ahead. I got you.”
“I know you do.”
He shut his eyes and gladly sank into nothing.
29
JAY
With his mind drifting in space, he could still see the dancing flames. They loomed toward the sky, terrifying and unyielding. But he wasn’t afraid.
The fire wasn’t there for him.
Voices came and went—voices he knew, people he thought he’d never see again. They drove him somewhere and tried to ask him questions, but he could only reply with an obscure grumble that hurt his parched throat.
Eventually, they stopped talking and allowed him to rest.
The place they took him to smelled familiar, but it didn’t make sense for them to be there. A man whose voice he didn’t recognize came and poked a needle into his vein, making sleep much sweeter. But he could still smell the stinging smoke.
*
He cracked open his eyes in a dim and familiar bedroom. The blanket above him felt warm and comfortable, butechoes of pain were present, although less severe than they had been... yesterday? Yes, that felt correct.
An unpleasant feeling covered his torso, like there was something wrong with his skin. In an instant, he remembered the numerous cuts, needles, and Andy’s fucking teeth. His waking brain kindly followed by reminding him of other things that had happened since Dima smashed his head against the car and threw him into madness.
With his sharpening senses came the realization that he wasn’t alone in bed. Gingerly, he tilted his head to meet two familiar blue eyes.
“How long have you been watching me?” Speaking felt odd, as if dry glue clung to his tongue.
“A while.”
Jay raised his shirt, although it looked like one of Ethan’s. His body was covered with bandages, but at least nothing seemed to be bleeding. He lowered the shirt and moved to lie on his side, facing the man he had vowed to save but ended up being saved by. A bandage covered the side of Chris’s head, but he seemed otherwise fine. Some of the skin on his nose and ears had begun to peel because of the fire, and Jay assumed it was the same for him.
They watched each other in silence, early morning rays of sun peeking through the curtains of their old cabin.
“How’d we end up here?” Jay asked.
“Mickey said that taking us to a hospital would make the cops ask unwanted questions. I was barely conscious, but I told Ethan and Ant that I didn’t want to explain two dead bodies—three if we’re counting Dima.”
“Oh, we’re definitely counting him. Was it your idea to come to the cabin?”
“Yes. It was on our way back to the city. We also got rid of Trevor and Dima's cars.”
“You've been busy.”
“Ethan and Anthony did most of the work.” Chris drew a breath. “I’m sorry.”
Jay could clearly see in his eyes the weight of guilt. During his short time with the Mitchell brothers, he had gotten a glimpse into a world of perversion. It was unfathomable to imagine Chris—Daniel—living with those people for two whole years, then having the strength to escape and rebuild himself.
