But the rest?
The rest of this cottage is weak. It’s just wood. It’s made of things that can be destroyed if a man puts his mind to it, and I’m putting my mind to it.
I let myself loose.
I start by the sink in the kitchen, tearing dried herbs off the walls along with the boards the hooks were nailed into. I rip off a set of indoor shutters, then make a loop around the cottage, pulling off the rest. Shutters on the inside and the outside. The witch wanted to be able to hide. She never wanted anyone to find out what kind of things she did in here.
It’s too bad for her that I found out. It’s even worse that Gretel and I survived, because now I’m going to wipe this place out of existence.
Gretel watches me intently, staying close as I tip the wood into the fire. It leaps up around the boards like it’s delighted to have something to blaze through.
I break down the chairs at the kitchen table. They go into the fire as well. The oven is roaring now, pouring heat into the house, but I don’t want to feed that thing. The bedroom grate is better.
“This is what you should have burned,” I say to the flames, though I know it wasn’t this fucking fire that wiped out the crops and sent people to early graves from starvation. “This hellhole.” She joins me in destruction, grabbing everything she can. The pillows and cushions. The drapes and the rugs.
Gretel comes with me when I head back for more pieces of the house. She grabs my arm as the fire catches and slips through the grate.
“Hansel,” she says, her voice gentle. “Maybe we shouldn’t?—”
“We’re going,” I snap, then take a deep breath and look her in the eyes. “We’re going, Gretel. I’m burning this place to the ground, and then we’re leaving.”
“That’s not going to be enough.”
I stop dead in the middle of the rug, my arms full of panels from the walls. The cottage is old enough, and it’s been sitting here long enough, that pieces are coming away in my hands almost as easily as the shutters.
“What do you mean, it’s not going to be enough? This place won’t exist. We—we replaced her. We replaced what happened with what we did. There’s nothing left but to get rid of it. The memories though… what she did to you… what she did to you was?—”
“Me?” Gretel has tears in her eyes. Her chin, which she’d stuck out so bravely, wobbles. “I can’t stand to see what she did to you.”
“Gretel.” I bend down and kiss her temple, then her cheek. “The worst part about that night was seeing you cry. I would have survived anything she threw at me to be able to take you home, and it was—God. You screaming for me like that—nothing could be worse. Do you understand? Nothing. I can’t let her do that to you again.”
“She tortured you,” Gretel argues, her voice breathless. She clears her throat. The fire rages behind her in the bedroom. Our time is running out. “She tortured you, Hansel. Why do you think I’m willing to let her live? I’m not going to let her—let her taunt me. She can’t spend the rest of her life trying to scare me into anything. We have to kill her. Or I have to kill her. She has to be dead. That witch can’t exist in the same world as us anymore. I can’t take it.”
“I love you, Gret. I always have.”
Shock shows in her widened eyes and for a moment it’s like I cut her deep. Or like I kissed her for the first time. The sound is so packed with emotion that I can’t decide what it means.
Gretel wouldn’t have let me touch her if she didn’t feel just as strongly. If she didn’t trust me with every part of her.
She cares about me so much that she wants me out of here, just so being within these walls doesn’t cause me any more pain. The fire cracks in the other room and it catches both of our attention.
“If we’re going to leave, then we should leave now.”
It’s not enough though. Not enough to burn every last scrap in this nightmare. I stalk past Gretel and drop the next pile onto the flames.
There’s still no sign of the witch and I’m convinced as I toss the dishes in the flames that it is the house. This cottage is damned with baneful magic.
I wasn’t strong enough when I was younger. I’m strong enough now. I’ve pushed all my anger deep down inside and saved it up so it could become strength.
“We can pretend,” she insists. “We don’t have to think about this place anymore, whether its here or not. When we go back home?—”
“I’m not going back home while this cottage is still standing.”
Gretel’s huge eyes follow me as I go for another round. “Hansel, please. We can go right now. We can—we can talk. We can regroup. We need to make a plan to find her and kill her, and then?—”
“This first.”
“She could be coming for us right now.”
