For the entire walk back through the forest and to the house, Waverly couldn’t grapple with what had just happened. Did she make it all up? Was everything she had seen—Christopher, Mia, Pietro singing—was it all merely a hallucination? What was going on with her?
On autopilot, Waverly followed Sawyer into the house and started taking off her shoes. Everything was a lie. She was ill to the extent that her mind had begun playing tricks on her and all of her demons had bubbled up to the surface to join in on this fiasco. But in the midst of everything, she wasn’t sure if she was more scared that her subconscious had created this nightmare-ish fantasy, or if she was truly sick enough to be at the point of auditory and visual delusions.
The closet door banged as it hit against its twin beside it, snapping Waverly free of her increasing fears. Sawyer sat on the bench in the entryway to remove his shoes. His movements were swift and forceful, and he struggled to undo his laces.