A small smile lit up his face. “You’re probably right. And I'm sure you won’t end up there, either."
I scoffed.
“What? You’re not a bad person.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough to know that a bad person wouldn’t have spent the last two minutes trying to reassure me I won’t go to Hell for being gay.”
I shrugged. “I think that just means I’m not homophobic.”
"Why do you think you’re a bad person?”
Do you have all day? There's a very long list of reasons.
“Come on, what did you do that was so bad?” Nathaniel asked. “Did you kill animals or something? Did you hurt your brother? Did you set things on fire? What did you do?”
I hadn’t expected the sudden interrogation, nor the way Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked angry. And I panicked. I didn’t want him to be angry with me.
“No…I…I didn’t kill anything. I would never hurt my brother. And I didn’t set things on fire.”
“Well? What did you do, then?” Nathaniel pushed.
I hesitated before telling him the same thing I told Dr. Rosewood—that I was disobedient, disrespectful, that I drew on walls and punched holes through windows. I couldn't tell him the truth, so whatever words he conjured to console me would mean nothing.
Nathaniel’s gaze softened and he shifted closer, raising a hand as if to touch me but decided against it before our skin couldconnect. “Augustus,” he said, “you were achild.And children do those things sometimes. I’m pretty sure I did all those things at some stage, too. Does that make me a bad person too?”
“No,” I said quietly.
“Then neither are you,” Nathaniel bumped me with his elbow. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re not some wicked demon for talking back a few times and smashing things when you’re angry. You’re not even that same kid anymore.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
Tell him,the Devil urged,watch him run.
I shook my head. “I just…I have this awful feeling that I…”
“What?”
The Devil’s smile was all teeth. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it in his voice as he said,Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.
I closed my eyes, drowning out the voice with several deep breaths, and when I opened them, Nathaniel was gone, the gallery shrouded in darkness.
Panic consumed me. It pounded against my ribcage, the cracks echoing loudly inside the now empty gallery. The Devil’s laughter sent me to my knees, hands over my ears in a pathetic attempt to shut him out. I struggled to breathe, as if smoke were infiltrating my lungs, and that was when I heard the crackling flames. They slithered toward me, inch by inch, heat drawing sweat from my pores.
“No,” I whispered, trying to stand up, “no, no, no, no.”
I whirled around in search of the exit, but there were only flickering flames surrounded by an endless void. Where was Nathaniel? Had he gotten to safety?
Struggling to capture enough air in my lungs, I stumbled forward, hoping the exit would appear as I ventured through the darkness. But there was no end in sight. I was going to die. This was real. It had to be. Surely hallucinations couldn't kill you. Notlike this. Coughing, I collapsed to my knees and hunched over, tears burning down my cheeks.
You better get used to the heat…there’s a lot more of it in Hell,the Devil cackled.
The flames crawled closer and, with no other way to process my fear, I screamed.
Hands clasped my shoulders and shook me, a voice that was not the Devil’s calling my name. I opened my eyes, slowly, and blinked as the white walls of the gallery and the classic artworks filled my vision, brown eyes locking on mine with concern.
