"she was the type of person who'd explain how she was going to stab you in the front before she actually shoved the knife in... and you'd let her.
she'd probably even pass the knife to you so you can shove it in your own chest...and you would."
tom...
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e v e l y n w a l k e d towards the smoldering pile of what was left of her family's estate as if in a dream. Tom stared transfixed at the ruins as they shifted and crackled. He felt as if he were still in his nightmares from the night before.
The gardens that led up to the manor resembled those of the ones he had seen earlier this week in London, the leftover remains of a war-torn orphanage. Bare and lifeless. What hadn't been burned by the fire was covered in piles of snow. The lucious expanse had already surrendered itself to the harsh winter. The whole yard was full of a flickering fog from the flames burning up the snow in its path, and yet, even as it cocooned them inside, it did not hide the tragic remains.
Tom tried to stay as close to Evelyn as he could; he could not keep his eyes off of her now. As she reached the mighty mahogany doors, she slid her hand down the wood in some kind of attempted apology. And then she reached up to the note that had been crudely nailed into it. He could read it from where he stood slightly behind her, careful not to touch her or anything around him.
'I'm waiting, ' the note read in what Tom disturbingly recognized as blood. Evelyn ripped it off and crumbled it up in her fist at the exact moment she stumbled through the charred doorframe.
He watched as her boots, which were dirty from their days in the woods, stepped deep into a pile of ash. She continued to move robotically as if she weren't quite in control of her own body. Tom, who had only seen Evelyn upset once before, tried to give her some kind of space now that they were inside what was once the grand foyer.
There was almost nothing left of the once great manor. The ruins made the house insignificant compared to how it had felt just that summer. Tom had thought that the many rooms had gone on forever, but he could see the end now. See where the flames had burned and then had stopped. The grand staircase that he had followed Evelyn up for three months led up to nothing but the smoke-filled sky.
Evelyn crossed the space. She stopped in front of a lone side table that had survived. On top of it, there still stood a vase with wilted flowers that turned to cinders when she reached out to finger the grey petals.
"Evelyn," Tom whispered, scared to disturb the eerie quiet.
She didn't turn towards him. Only rubbing the remnants of the flower petals between her thumb and forefinger.
"Evelyn," Tom called a bit louder, desperate for her attention. Desperate to see her reaction, but she didn't turn towards him.
Instead, she swiveled quickly towards the staircase that led to nothing. Her hands reached for a banister that was no longer there. She took a step up as if to climb them, but Tom caught her arm, stopping her.
"Evelyn, we have to go," Tom attempted to reason. There was something sinister in the air the longer they stayed. "There's nothing there."
She yanked on her arm. Fighting to get up the stairs.
