CHAPTER 18: He Finds Her
The floor was cold beneath them. Eli hadn't moved since Ava collapsed into his arms. Neither had she.
Her breath had steadied, but her body still trembled every few minutes—like aftershocks of the storm inside her.
He held her tighter, not saying a word.
She'd said something he couldn't unhear.
"I think I started it."
The fire.
The one that blinded him.
That night was a blur of heat, screams, and smoke. The sounds haunted him still. But the idea that she—the woman who now shook in his arms—could be part of it?
It terrified him.
Not because he blamed her. But because some cruel part of him still wanted to.
"Say something," Ava whispered. Her voice was frayed, barely there.
He swallowed hard. "I don't know what to say."
"Then lie to me," she said, with a broken laugh. "Tell me I'm imagining things."
He pulled back enough to find her face with his hands. His fingers brushed her cheeks, damp with tears. "I won't lie to you."
She nodded like she expected that. Like she'd already lost.
He hated that.
"I don't remember everything either," he confessed. "Sometimes I think I do. Sometimes it's just noise and fire. And pain."
"I saw it," she said, her voice hoarse. "A little girl. Holding something. A spark. Then flames. And a scream."
His stomach twisted.
Ava's voice cracked. "If it was me… if I'm the reason—"
"You were a child," he interrupted gently.
"I still lit the match."
Silence again.
And then—something shifted.
Eli stood suddenly. His hand reached down. "Come with me."
She stared up at him. "Where?"
"I don't know," he said. "Anywhere but here."
She took his hand.
He guided her through the halls, barefoot, past the echoing walls of the center. They moved like shadows—quiet, unsure.
He brought her outside.
The rain from earlier had faded to mist. The air smelled like wet leaves and possibility.
They walked to the old music room. The one with the shattered piano.
Ava froze at the door.
"I can't go back in there," she whispered.
He nodded. "Then we don't."
Instead, he led her around the side, to the back courtyard where wind chimes hung from an old tree.
There was a bench.
They sat.
The world felt a little quieter here.
Eli turned to her. "You said you saw a girl."
Ava looked away. "Yes."
"Can you paint her?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Paint her," he said. "Let's see who she really is. Maybe if we stop running from the image, we'll find the truth inside it."
She hesitated. "What if I don't like what I see?"
"Then I'll sit with you until you do."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She nodded.
He reached out, tracing the space beside her. "You're not the only one with ghosts, Ava."
"But what if mine hurt you?"
"Then we'll bleed together."
They sat in the mist, broken but together.
But neither of them noticed—
—behind the curtains of the art center—
A light flicked off.
And the figure from the windowless room stepped into the hall.
Smiling.