I need to leave; coming here was clearly not a good idea. The sky is blustery and dark gray now and the snow is falling more heavily, not instantly melting as it touches the windowpanes, but settling in clusters across them, like iced spiderwebs. I bet the heavy clouds hide a most magnificent evening sky, far away from the glare of lights from the big city, and I wish I could see the stars when they appear, that they would light up the way back down to the car. I think about Leah’s mentions of supernovae, especially the obliteration of the larger, brighter star by a little dwarf star stealing its matter, prompting them both to explode, as she described. Why did she choose it as the title for this strange and disturbing account? I close my eyes and imagine those thermonuclear explosions, the white heat, the rainbow fires of destruction shredding the blackness when stars collide.

I check my phone. No reception, unsurprisingly. It’s just past 5 p.m. and I still have a headache from all the wine yesterday. My stomach growls with hunger, but I’ve left the cookies in the car.

I peer out of the window at the flurries of snow churning on the darkening air like static on an old television. I am dreading the walk back to the car through the woods. What if Leah comes back and I bump into her on the forest track? I realize I am afraid of coming face to face with her now. She lured me here and could come back at any time. She is clearly unhinged, and has not only extensively lied to me, but also stalked me in my personal time. She even had a restraining order out against her for assault. I need to get out of here right now. I choke the flame on the oil lamp, steeping the vaulted room in a deep twilight, a chill spreading through my bones.

I use the torch to get back to the front door without bumping into anything, pausing for a quick moment to listen before I step back outside – a visceral fear is taking hold of me but I have to find a way to control it and get myself safely back to the car. I place the phone on the floor for a second and shove my feet back into my boots, which I’d graciously left by the door like a polite guest, and the torch beam falls on something high up on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before.