Born of Fire

The air was cold around her as she dragged her slim body against the ground. As a single teardrop fell into the puddle of blood next to her, she reached for the blunt scissors from the kitchen bench. She fiddled around with them for a moment, running her finger along the jaggered edge and softly pressing the cool metal up against her check. She dropped down her wavy, oily hair and hovered the blade just under her round jawline. With a loud sigh the girl closed them, letting a fine stream of brown strings drift down to the tiled floor beneath her feet. She then repeating her act, letting stream after stream come down until she felt the cold chill of the air on her neck. Her face turned to her skinny limbs and she stroked her bruised legs with her long black nails, pressing down occasionally to see how new they were. In the dark, the soft yellow light of her phone illuminated the small room around her allowing her to gaze over all her father’s treasured possessions. He seemed to pay more attention to them so why would he notice or even care if she cut her hair.

She pressed her chipped teeth into her lips determined to prove herself tough and beat her record from last time. As a fine stream of blood started flowing out of her mouth she thought to herself why she would stay here if all dad did was hurt her. She took a quick glance at the matches on the shelf and the shelves of alcohol on the other side of the room and thought to herself, even though dad forces weird liquids and tablets into my mouth, he wouldn’t be crazy enough to start a fire.

(A while later)

As she laid on her small bed facing the ceiling she twiddled her thumbs waiting patiently for the morning. It was so boring waiting up all night, she never got to sleep anyway since the voices didn’t let her. They’d always nag her and scold her, getting louder and louder by the minute. So she just accepted it and stayed awake. She was used to it by now though, she could stay up for days and when she did get tired she would just knock herself out, that way the voices would just shut up as well. As she walked around in her crammed head, she heard a thumping sound come from down the hall and then a loud flush coming from the bathroom. She wondered whether what she had just done was a bad idea, her father wouldn’t even be around to hurt her. The rest of her family were long gone anyway, so she wouldn’t have to worry about them. They had never listened to her, she had told them about the strange smokey smell coming out of the engine before they had headed out, but no. Her and her younger brothers would be fine, it was just a short trip around the side of the mountain after all. Ha, after the crash her dad had completely changed, he had seemed gloomy and distant which is normal guess until he started doing all sort of crazy things.

After a few more minutes she was broken from her thoughts when she smelt the raising smell of smoke coming from downstairs and smiled. She sat up and allowed for the soft breeze coming from the open window to cool her as she rummaged around in her head thinking of what to do next. She sniffed again, this time it was stronger, and she could start to feel heat. She got up and dragged herself towards her fathers’ bedroom door. When she got there, she could hear his fingers pressing heavily over his computer keys and she knew that he wouldn’t be out any time soon. She turned away, but just as she did she started to hear the tiny whispers in her head again, she listened carefully and then satisfied she continued walking away.

She looked down from the top of the narrow staircase at the firey hell downstairs slowly make its way up the walls and carpet. She glanced angrily back at her father’s room, where she knew would soon become part of the firey beast. Then she heard the heavy footsteps again, then the door flew open. Her fathers started stomping towards her, his hands clenching as he got closer to her. He stopped in his tracks and took a single glance to the fire downstairs and he said to her softly but angrily, ‘Do you know what you have done, it is your fault this has happened’, ‘Why are you like this you should have gotten better by now, what have I done wrong?’. She didn’t care, he always lectured her after she acted up, trying to be herself just like every cat poster says. She continued glaring at him. She smiled and held a bony finger up to her father’s face. ‘I was born of the car’s fire and the death of my family, so I will die that way as well.’

She lowered her hand and then walked backwards away from her father who was standing there as pale as she. She kept her eye contact but kept her face low and angled and she watched her father struggle as the first ambers came floating up the stairs like firefly’s. She then clicked her fingers and almost immediatly the red flames surged up into the upper level of the house like a giant wave and she watched as the moster spread and consume everything in its path. The blaze spread up the walls like blood in water, it spread so beautifully and quickly, she watched as it circled around her father’s broad body. She watched as the hungry breast latched onto hum, hurt him, sank its blazing teeth into his flesh, burning it from his bones as his screams filled her hunger for vengeance. She was always drawn to fire, it was such beautiful and mysteriously deadly.

Her memories played through her head speeding past her quickly like water in a stream. She remembered the car crash and how scrutinizing it had been. Everyone else had died except her, the doctors say that she was lucky but after the crash she had been diagnosed with a range of different foreign sounding mental illnesses, all brought by the damage done to her brain. She remembered the first few days home after being in hospital and how different her dad was. He had forced weird tasting liquids and tablets the doctors said was med-i-cine. But she wouldn’t be fooled, the name didn’t sound right and after dad forced it down her throat, after she refused to swallow it, it would hurt her and make her feel different. She didn’t trust him from then on.

Author Notes: Any sort of Comment welcome, thanks for reading.

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