Layton was there sitting on the edge of the fountain. There was a baseball bat beside him. In the light of the streetlamps, I could see the bat was smeared with blood and Layton was splattered with it. But there was something very wrong with this picture—even more than what was already wrong. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

The blood was blue.

Just like the blood on Hunter’s fingertips.

Was blood supposed to be blue? For the life of me I didn’t know the answer.

And where was Paul?

When Layton saw me, he stood up. The bat rolled off the fountain, clattering on the ground. He was done playing baseball. There was no telling what his next sport would be.

“You came,” he said. As he came closer, I could see his face was bruised and swelling. Layton might have had the strength of a quarterback, but Paul was no weakling. He had done plenty of damage. Even so, Layton was here, and Paul wasn’t.

I stood by “our tree,” keeping my distance. Making him come to me. “What did you do, Layton? Where’s Paul?”

But he wasn’t hearing me over whatever thoughts were screaming in his own head. Now, I could see that his pupils had closed down to pinpricks worse than Hunter’s had been, letting in only the slightest light. I was the focus of his tunnel vision.

“This is all wrong, Ashley. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel it? It’s supposed to be you and me. How could you ruin that?”

I said nothing. Not yet. I let him rant.

“I was so stupid to trust you! And now look where we are!” He pointed to the tree. I could see our initials within a rough-hewn heart. I remember thinking when he carved that heart that it was lopsided. “I love you, Ashley. Why are you making me do this?”

I could have placated him and told him what he wanted to hear. But I would not do that. If this was indeed the end of the world, I would let my light go out with dignity.

“Goddamn it, Ashley, don’t just stand there! Tell me you love me!”

And so I told him the truth, as best as I knew it. I spoke for me. I spoke for Katie. I spoke for every girl who ever found herself yoked under the arm of a Layton.

“There’s a part of me that loves you, Layton. But other parts hate you more than you can possibly imagine. You don’t get to ‘have’ me, Layton. Because you don’t deserve me. You could win every game, and every trophy there is. You could ride high on the shoulders of every team you’re ever on—and you still won’t deserve me.”