I did something bad by Taylor Swift

They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one.

"Paris, I don't smell anything.. I think it's just your mind." He coos gently. I let my head drop into my hands and let out a loud sob, hysterically breaking down. 

He stands from the seat and approaches the glass, getting as close as he can. "Please don't cry, Paris." Grayson hushes gently. If he was in here he'd have cupped my cheeks and wiped all my tears away.  

"Grayson I promise I'm not fucked up in the head- I mean I am, but not in the way they think. I- I swear. Someone's still after me. Someone's gonna kill me if I don't get out of here. This isn't safe!" I sob, meeting his gaze and seeing how his eyes soften the second he sees me crying, he has a restraint in his gaze, stopping himself from doing something. 

"It's your mind baby. It's playing tricks on you. I promise you're safe in here." Grayson assures me with a delicate softness to his voice that makes me sick to my stomach. 

I cough again, harder this time. Then again. 

"Jesus I can't breathe." I choke out, breathing in a laboured breath and furrowing my brows as I look around. 

"P?" He asks firmly. "I feel dizzy." I wheeze out, darting my vision all around the room to see what's happening. 

I see one singular vent, slowly pumping out dark smoke. "Fuck." I mumble. Grayson's eyes must clock it the second mine do, because he instantly pulls a fire alarm and yells for a doctor to come let me out. 

I scream when flames finally kiss the room. The burning red fire licks around the floor in a rhythmic pattern. I furrow my brows, stepping out of its path and pressing my back against the wall. It slowly spirals in a planned coil, before carefully tracing up the back wall. It follows a path of what must be gasoline or some other fuel, carefully spreading over a message. 

My breathing hitches. Spelt out entirely by flames is one word in all caps. 

'PARIS'

I let out a treacherous wail of horror. "Please tell me you're seeing this!" I squeal to Grayson, who's fighting his own coughs and barely able to breathe. 

He leaves me, running into the hall and screaming for someone to let me out, but everyone's in shambles, trying to get themselves and other patients out. Nobody answers him. 

He races back in. "Paris, I need you to take off your sweater for me." He instructs with authority. I glance at him fearfully. I don't bother asking a single question, knowing that Grayson Hawthorne has never made any wrong calls in the entire time I've known him. 

I start to take the thick gray sweater off my body, shaking with fear. I'm now wearing only a vest in a room full of open flames which I wouldn't think to be ideal. 

"Okay tie it over your face like a mask. It'll help with the smoke getting into your lungs." He instructs, and I listen to every word. 

"Now take a step away from the glass, closer to the back wall, but don't let it touch you." He orders. I sheepishly nod and do what he says. 

I can feel my skin burning with heat, but I watch his every move as he picks up one of the chairs and steps back. The wooden chair crashes through the glass in merely a second, being engulfed by flames in the centre. Glass shards cascade all over where I was just standing. 

Grayson carefully steps through the glass with urgency and scoops me up bridal style. I cling to him as he races us out of the building, through each door, past screaming patients, and down several stories of stairs. 

The front door crashes open and he barrels out. The patients and doctors are already assembled outside in the emergency escape exit. 

Fire engines are already waiting, along with an ambulance. Our family clocks us and races over. Grayson places me down, struggling to even hold himself upright. Avery instantly hugs me. 

I see Nash wrap an arm over Grayson and watch as he staggers a little, letting his elder brother support his weight. I cling to my sister, relying on her for holding up my body. 

"It's.. not.. her.." Grayson manages to get out through sharp wheezy breaths. Everyone jolts their stare towards him. "Someone's- after her.. tried to.. kill her." He confirms for the group, hating to look weak but barely breathing. 

"I.. fucking.. told.. you.." I barely manage to force the hoarse words out.

The paramedics race over and escort the two of us into the ambulance. They don't make any moves to take us to a hospital, clearly seeing no need at this point in time. They give us each an oxygen mask and let us sit on the edge of the ambulance as they check us both for burns. 

They check our eyes, stating they're both bloodshot. They check our temperatures, stating they're low. 

Grayson stares straight ahead, processing and thinking. He doesn't say a thing, but to assure me we're both okay, he reaches out and takes my hand in his. 

After a long while of assessments, we're both cleared, and the institution is cleared. 

"She's not going back in there." Grayson states firmly to the therapists, doctors and security guards from the institution. "No of course not, for the next week all patients will be temporarily transferred until it's safe." Someone assures. 

"I think you'll find Paris Rooney will not in fact be returning. She's coming home." Grayson states matter of factually, already marching me away with his hand still in mine.

(a/n. Climax of part 4 is coming soon. This is a short one but also pretty packed ig. Hope you enjoyed <3)