This Is Where It Ends: Chapter 17–Epilogue

Another girl breaks down in tears as soon as she crosses the threshold.

The roof is safer. Besides, if Tyler ventures out there, the police will be able to stop him.

They look at me in helplessness, anger, loathing, and fear.

The lectern stands forlorn, Principal Trenton’s glass of water forgotten on one of the shelves.

The lectern stands forlorn, Principal Trenton’s glass of water forgotten on one of the shelves.

Ty shot himself? My heart lurches.

Apart from the occasional porch light, the houses were clad in darkness, which gave us the illusion of solitude.

Even during the brunt of Ty’s anger, students were whispering and whimpering.

The police will be here soon, and I’m lulled into thinking normal life will resume again.

Mom taught me how to make snow angels, though there was barely enough snow. I was mesmerized by it all, but I hated how the cold seeped through my coat and clothes.

Inane school policy. Why lock all the classroom doors between periods? No one in their right mind would try to steal OHS property. The textbooks and clunky school computers are not worth the trouble.

We rush toward one of the last doors, with its trademark singed lock. I accidentally “broke” it before winter break. Or more to the point, I blew it up.

Sylv rolls her eyes, and in any other situation, she would’ve replied with a string of Abuela’s favorite curses. “That’s not what I mean.” Her exasperation makes me want to hug her.

Their breaths formed clouds in the cold, but neither wore their coats, to Mom’s dismay.

She swallowed the “hospitalized" as Chris and Matt came blundering into the kitchen.

Mom makes scrapbooks, and recently, Matt had taken over that hobby. At first, I thought it weird, but when Tracy left for training, I began to understand the value of tangible memories.

Within our circle of light, we were a family. I wanted it to be like that forever. Not Matt writhing in pain and Mom comforting him until he fell asleep and she went back to her room to cry until Dad came home.

He stands in front of me, his eyes flashing. They’re so like Mamá’s, brown with flecks of green.

His face is ashen, the angles drawn sharper than when I first saw him. His lips are turning blue, distorting the words he wants to say.

I stare at him, and almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head.

I swallow a sudden bout of nausea. We’re trapped in this lab.

Once I’m sitting on the windowsill, Fareed walks away, looking around him. Presumably to find police officers. To signal for help.

She’s listening so intently, she doesn’t seem scared as Fareed lifts her down onto the roof.

Part of me waits for Matt to cough, to breathe, but I know it’s futile.

And I hang back to get my bearings. Where would Sylv go?

He no longer looks neat and immaculate.

Fareed loosens his grip a little, and I sink to the roof. My arms shake. The shingles chafe my knees.

I pull myself up and launch myself through the open window, escaping his grasp and diving headlong toward the floor.

Tomás’s prone body lies at Tyler’s feet.

The bitterness in his voice is palpable.

With the exodus of students comes more news of the dead.

There are only fingers that entwine with another’s, arms that link in solidarity.

“I’m so proud of you.” She always said that even though her lucid days were few and far between.

We couldn't stop laughing. And it healed a rift between us, all the words unspoken and forgotten.

Her hair is still neatly braided, her clothes impeccable, but her eyeliner is running.

Ty uses the gun to push a wayward strand of hair out of his face. He’s sweating so hard, the gel won’t hold.

It won’t be the first time I underestimated my brother; he’s always had a knack for getting away with anything.

I waver. The only thing that keeps me standing is Chris’s hand supporting my elbow.

The paramedics on either side of my stretcher carry me out with brusque efficiency while Sylv keeps hold of my hand.

The paper smolders, but it’s enough to light the fuses. Other sparks light up the darkness. The lanterns get lit one by one.