In front of the empty fireplace, the puzzle box tumbles from Maddy’s hands onto the floor. Her fingers cramp around air, as if she’s still trying to hold on to the wooden pieces.
This is how easily we crumble.
Seven
Maddy
Their words sound like they’re under water—or maybe I am. Something’s churning inside of me, and I’m going to be sick.
“What happened there? Ever, was this your idea?”
“I appreciate atmosphere, but I’m not a fan of scaring people—or messing with electricity.”
My skin is too tight, and I feel like I’m overflowing. Fire. Flames.
“Perhaps the fireplace malfunctioned.”
“If that’s the case, it had excellent timing.”
I keep tapping my foot on the floor until my knee locks. If I were closer to the flames, I’d keep my hands too close to the fire until the heat scorched me and claimed me, and I would let it devour me. Instead, there’s darkness, and I can’t see or feel my edges. I need something to ground me, something to cling to. Am I supposed to react? How am I supposed to react? What is left of me?
“Maybe the cabin is haunted after all.”
“Liva…”
I stare at the fireplace, but I can’t seem to focus. I’m a million ants in a trench coat. I haven’t picked up the puzzle box yet, and the roar of the fire and the crashing of Carter’s mug echoes in my ears. If I was a lacrosse defender still, I would go running now, and I wouldn’t stop until I ate the grass.
I like that image: eating grass.
“Did you do it? Did you rig the fireplace? Play into the ghost story?”
The world is twisting and turning, and tension crawls up from my knee. I hate ghost stories, and I hate people playing into ghost stories more. I hate the sound of things crashing, because I can feel it in my bones. I hate not being able to remember how to breathe. I hate everything. I hate them all.
“Maddy?”
The power comes back and a light flicks on. Finn’s face filters into my vision. Furrowed eyebrows. Worry, perhaps. Impatience.
“Maddy, are you okay? Look at me.”
I try to focus, but there’s a disconnect between my body and my mind, like nothing about it fits anymore. I don’t feel like I belong in this body, I don’t know how to interact with this world. It feels like I’m observing through a veil, and I don’t know how to move. Panic is a type of pain too.
In my periphery, Liva laughs, and there’s an edge of scorn to it. “Why would I? I mean, I did tell Ever about the ghost story, so they could weave it into their introduction. You can’t have such a cool setting and all these legends without at least doing something with it. But no, I didn’t break the five-thousand-dollar fireplace for atmosphere, Carter.”
“I’m sure Carter didn’t mean anything by it. It is your cabin, after all.”
Ever’s words are met by silence. An intake of breath. “I know. I just don’t like the suspicion. I’m not responsible for everything all of the time. And besides…” Liva’s voice drops. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I also don’t believe in angering them.”
My hands claw and tremble at those words.
“Will you all shut up?” Finn’s voice. Anger.
I flinch away from that too.
“Maddy. C’mon, focus on us.” Ever’s face appears next to Finn. They keep their voice level, gentle. Do they lean in? Tilt their head? So much nonverbal communication is tone of voice too, but Ever is in game mode now, and their tone is neutral and unreadable. They built feet-thick walls around themself. “Is it too much? Too loud?”
That sounds reasonable. It makes sense. I nod, but it’s as if my body reacts a moment later, as if I’m not fully in control.
“May I touch you?” Ever reaches out a hand to me, and I stiffen.
“Okay.” They withdraw their hand, but otherwise stay exactly where they are. “It was only a malfunction. I know it’s uncomfortable and you’re overwhelmed, but it was an accident, nothing more. Nothing will happen.”
I hate that word. Accident.
It was an accident too when a truck crashed into my car and mangled my leg under the metal. It was an accident when the car caught fire—even the fire department said so. It was an accident, but I should consider myself lucky that I made it out alive.
I keep seeing the flames.
“Slow breaths, Maddy. In and out. That’s it.” Ever’s voice is calm and low. I try to follow their counting, while my hands crawl to my knee, and my fingers dig deep into the skin.
I wish I could see. I want to understand. I hate being so overwhelmed.
In the background, Liva refuses to be silenced for long. “C’mon, I get being afraid of a ghost story. I remember the first time my father told me about the murders too; I didn’t sleep in the cabin for almost a month, and when I did, I had to keep all the lights on. I checked for bloody prints and songs everywhere. But my point is, I was eight and I didn’t know any better.”
“Gods, Liva, some days you’re absolutely insufferable, you know that?”
“So what, she’s triggered? Is that it? It’s only a story.”
There’s so much scorn when Liva talks to Carter, and it’s always mutual. The richest kid of Stardust High and the wannabe rich kid. From the very first moment, the two of them loved to hate each other, but while they fight hard, they also play hard. Or used to, anyway.
“Are you really that ignorant? Maddy is freaking out, and you peddle some nonsense about how she should suck it up? Triggers are reminders of trauma,” Finn snaps, though the words make it sound as if he’s repeating something someone told him. “If you’ve never been triggered, you should be thankful for that, because being forced back into the worst experiences of your life isn’t great. Being stuck
