Page 143 of The Only One Left

“I’m Patrick.”

Unlike me, Lenora easily matches my father’s name with the boy her sister had loved all those years ago. It even dawns on her, decades too late, that he and not Virginia is responsible for at least some of the violence that claimed the lives of her parents.

“It was you,” she says.

My father responds with a curt nod. “Mostly, yes.”

“Give me one reason not to shoot you dead right now.”

“Because my daughter shouldn’t be here to see it,” my father says as he jerks his head in my direction.

Lenora looks to me, astonished. “Did you know?”

I shake my head. As Lenora watches me do it, the barrel of the shotgun drifts away from my father to the floor. Sensing an opportunity, my father lunges forward and shoves Lenora into the hallway.

“No!” I scream, not knowing which of them I’m actually screaming at. I do it again, even though they ignore me, too intent on destroying each other. I can only run into the hallway while continuing to scream as it all unfolds like a slow-motion car crash in front of me.

My father rushing Lenora.

Smashing into her.

The barrel of the shotgun moving, tilting, firing.

There’s a blast of heat and noise as the gun goes off. A chunk of the wall behind my father explodes, spraying plaster, wood, and wallpaper. He and Lenora continue to collide, edging closer to the top of the Grand Stairs.

My father stops.

Lenora doesn’t.

She falls onto her back, the shotgun leaving her hands as she shudders down the steps and does a single flip onto the landing. I push past my father and start down the Grand Stairs, stopping after only a few steps because I notice something strange.

The entire staircase is trembling.

As is the entire house.

I look around, suddenly terrified. The light fixture in the foyer sways back and forth. From above come several thuds as furniture on the third floor topples over. From below, the earth lets out a low groan, like a beast about to wake. Hearing it, I know in my gut it’ll only be a matter of time—minutes, maybe even seconds—before it does.

When that happens, all of Hope’s End will come tumbling down.

“Get out of the house!” I call to Lenora. “I’m going to get Virginia.”

I start back up the stairs. They’re shaking so hard I can no longer stand and must crawl up them. I continue crawling when I reach the second floor, scrambling past my father.

“What are you doing?” he says, shouting to be heard over the steadily building groan of the earth and the thumping, shaking clatter it creates.

“Saving Virginia!”

“There’s not enough time!”

My father grabs me by the shoulders. I writhe in his grasp. “There is if you help me!”

We lock eyes, a lifetime of guilt and regret passing between us, unspoken yet keenly felt.

“Please,” I say. “You owe me. You oweher.”

My father blinks, as if snapping from a trance.

Then he releases me and, without another word, rushes to Virginia’s room.

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