Silence.

Quickly, I pulled the knife from the back of my waistband and dropped it at his feet. I grabbed the kerosene and poured, shaking it over his motionless body until his clothes were damp through, the floor wet around him, the whole house reeking and ready.

I found the matches in his bag by the door. Ethan was still upstairs, the fire already burning. I could have dragged him clear first, but it didn’t matter whether he made it out alive. All I needed was a body to back up my story. I would be a hero if he made it; a wretched victim if he didn’t. The only part that counted was here: Oliver, unconscious on the floor.

The man who’d made me, unleashed everything I was.

The only one who ever knew me at all.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

I struck a match, feeling the drag of friction. The flame flickered and then flared up, bright with promise. I stared into the fire for a moment, until spots danced in my eyes and I could see nothing but the black centre of the flame, then I let it fall to the ground.

The kerosene ignited with a hiss and a flare, flames racing outwards, hungry and consuming.

I stood and I watched it all burn.

‘Chloe. Wait.’

I turn. Weber is following after me, striding down the hallway. It’s morning –with the endless strip lamps, I didn’t notice until now: pale light streaming through the far windows and the new shift nurses changing with a bright chatter.

A new day for me.

Ethan is selling my story, Annette backing us up too. All the pieces fit together, there isn’t anything left to explain. At least, I don’t think there is.

‘Can I help you with anything else?’ I ask him, careful.

‘I talked to the medical examiner.’ Weber stops, standing too close, looming over me. ‘He said Ethan was likely stabbed by someone left-handed. And the blow on Oliver’s skull, it was someone swinging upwards, someone shorter than him. His report will say your story doesn’t add up.’

My heart shivers in my chest, but I don’t let the panic rise. He wants to scare me, but I’m done with that now. Ethan is on my side, his parents too. All that matters is the story, and I spun it just right.

Just the way I planned.

I coolly meet his gaze. ‘Sometimes it’s better to let things go. That’s what you told me, isn’t it? Maybe a pipe will burst,’ I add, giving him a look. ‘You know how evidence can get destroyed.’

Weber’s jaw goes slack. His eyes widen with realization: of his lies, and my silent threat.

‘Oh, and consider this my notice for work.’ I add brightly. ‘I’m not staying.’

I watch it click into place in Weber’s mind: suspicions becoming fact, with all the horror that truth contains. But even as his eyes fill with shock and betrayal, I’m not afraid. He knows he can’t touch me, he knows I’ve won.

I learned from the best, after all.

I walk away from him, and the last claim this town will ever have on me. Oliver was right, I was always better than this place, and now I never have to hide again.

My world. My rules.

‘Where will you go?’ Weber calls after me.

‘San Diego, I think.’ I turn back and beam, victory thick in my veins. ‘It’s about time I paid my dad a little visit.’

THE END