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Once he’s gone, Jamie cries even louder, and I worry he won’t be able to breathe at all. I’m crying, too.
I’m so sorry, I’m desperate to tell him. You’re such a good, kind man. A sparkling human. You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.
Jeff re-enters the sitting room, and I wonder for a moment if he’s just trying to scare us, pretending to have set fire to the studio. But then I smell the smoke, and my stomach twists so hard I think I’ll puke. I look toward the kitchen and see a thin blanket of smoke slowly covering the tiles. It’s perfectly white, like mist on a mountain.
Then the crackling starts. I hear it loud and clear, as if the fire were right next to my face. In my mind’s eye, I see the paintings being destroyed, devoured by the hungry flames. Canvas after canvas of meticulously painted trees: leaves, trunks, and blossoms swallowed up by fire. The windows start to crack, the jars of turpentine explode. Oil paints hiss and sizzle.
What is there to do now but bear witness?
The smoke creeps closer, and loses its innocent white appearance. Gray plumes rise up and threaten to suffocate us. Asphyxiation will be an easier way to go, so I hope it hurries toward us. Either that or a merciful bullet from Jeff’s revolver. But one look at the psychopath tells me there is no mercy on his mind. He’s enjoying this too much.
Jamie begins coughing in earnest.
I wish for things I’d never dreamed of:
That he dies of smoke inhalation.
That he dies quickly.
That he dies before me.
Anything that will ease his suffering.
My lungs are burning so much it feels like they’re on fire.
There’s a small explosion in the studio—or the kitchen. I can’t tell. Jeff coughs and narrows his eyes. “I think that’s my cue to go,” he decides. He takes my chin. “See you in the next life.”
I glare back at him, my face a riot of tears, and watch as he walks away. Before opening the door he turns on his heel as if he’s forgotten something. He takes aim at me and fires.
My chest explodes with pain. Jamie screams into his restraint and convulses in terror. I’m okay, I want to tell him. I’m okay, but my vision is a landscape of stars. My body unspools, turning me into a ragdoll. So much pain. I can no longer move.
Eyelids drooping, I gaze out the window. It’s snowing. What I wouldn’t give to be out there in the fresh cold air. What I wouldn’t give to be ice-skating with Alistair. It had always been too good to be true.
Jamie stops struggling. There’s no more weeping or coughing. I am crushed under the weight of his silence, even though it’s what I wished for. At least he is at peace, I tell myself. His suffering is over; the cruelty and terror. His quiet seeps into me, and my eyes start to close.
I wish I could tell them that I love them. My folks, Jamie, Becks, Alistair. Wish I could hug them goodbye.
The smoke doesn’t seem to be choking me anymore. My lungs have given up the battle. My panic has subsided. I can feel the heat of the flames on my feet, legs, and face. In seconds I’ll be swallowed up, and it’ll all be over.
Chapter 40
Snow and Sirens
Aloud bang startles me. My eyes fly open, only to be assaulted by toxic fumes. The greedy carpet of flames is an inch from my chair. A shadow grabs me, shakes me, and I think it must be Jeff. Jeff is back to make sure I die.
I cry, but it turns into a coughing fit. My ribs radiate agony.
My thoughts are mixed up, poisoned by the trauma and the smoke.
“Ivy!” the shadow shouts. I recognize that voice. My heart skips a beat. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating a happy ending?
I blink. Through the dense haze, I see it’s him. Alistair.
I stop crying.
Alistair!
The flames jump at us—the front door being smashed open fanned the inferno. My consciousness glitches. I can’t keep my eyes open. It’s much easier to drift away.
