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“Will you tell me?” she asks in such a quiet voice I almost miss it.
“Tell you what?” For a minute I think she’s going to say about Lizzie, which makes me feel awkward as fuck, but then she surprises me.
“About that night, the night of the fire…”
Shit. Am I ready to go there again? I try so hard not to even think about that night - futile I know - but to willingly relive it? To bring it to life again? I shift uneasily.
“You don’t have to,” she offers, but I shake my head.
“No…No, it’s fine. I need to,” I return.
And I do need to, I just don’t want to. I guess it’s time to suck it up and lay the scars bare for all to see.
“Was it awful?” Raven whispers, horrified by the haunted expression on my face.
“Let’s sit,” I tell her, striding over to the couch. She sits beside me and turns to face me, but I stare off into the distance, unable to make eye contact with her.
“You know what happened in the lead up to the party,” I begin.
“The beach,” she smiles nostalgically.
“The kiss…it was your goodbye wasn’t it? Jax knew. Or suspected at least. I didn’t want to see it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“So we went to the party, and it sucked,” I say. Actually that’s not entirely true, parts of the dance were good; holding Raven in my arms and spinning her across the dance floor as she giggled was a highlight I’ll never forget. “We played cards and you said…”
“That I wanted to stay for the fireworks,” she supplies.
“Yeah, and that you were going to grab a pop and dance before we had to leave. I wanted to offer to go with you but Ace got in there first. Then Rebel jumped in and snagged you for a dance, singing those stupid lyrics to you.”
“I remember the song. It’s been one of my favourites ever since.” She smiles, but it’s sad.
“Well, it should have been me. I wanted to tell you how much I loved you.”
The confession sits heavily in the room, so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“And then I left.”
“Then you left,” I repeat. “How did you do it?”
“I walked out the front door, I had the key - always did - and I knocked over one of the large pillar candles on my way out. I knew it would catch quickly; all that dry old wood and alcohol was a recipe for disaster.”
“So you meant to lock the door?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m asking; I know the answer. Part of me desperately clings to the idea that it was an accident, that she freaked and ran, that the last four years have all been some horrible misunderstanding and that she’s been waiting for us all along.
Fantasy.
“Yes.”
She shatters my dreams.
“And the back door?”
She hesitates.
“I was supposed to lock it. The plan was always to lock it. But...I guess I had an attack of conscience at the last minute and left it. You guys were near the back of the chapel when I left, I wanted you to be okay.”
I snort at that. She locked us in a burning building but she wanted us to survive? That’s a fucked-up psycho girlfriend test if ever I heard one; trust me, I dated a ‘princess’ of West Prep, I know all about fucked up shit.
