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“Mike, Mike, wait. Wait, we—we’re still talking, right? We’ve still got so much to talk about!”
“No,” Mike sighs blissfully. “No more talking. I’ve worked my ass off to help and protect you and even now, you don’t see it. But this?” He unscrews the white cap on the large bottle and flicks it to the side. “This is the only way I can keep you with me now that that teacher knows. But don’t worry, I promise that once we’re together, I’ll treat you properly. You’ll realize how wrong you were.”
“Mike!” I squeal as the first large splash of liquid hits me. Given the white bottle, I fear acid of some kind but the liquid is cool to the touch and doesn’t burn as it soaks into my clothes and splashes over my face.
I cough, choking as he pours it over me and then, when I breathe in, a sharp, familiar, metallic scent fills my nose.
Cold terror grips me and I start to thrash violently.
I know that smell.
Gasoline.
“Mike! Let me go, let me fucking go! Don’t do this, please, don’t do this. We can be together! Fuck, I’ll leave with you right now and we can be together but not like this! Please!”
Mike douses himself and tosses the empty bottle onto my bed, then he pulls a small matchbook from his pocket.
“Don’t be scared, Emma,” he says with a calm smile. “It’ll only take a second and then we’ll be together forever.”
The spark ignites with a flick of his thumb, and a single orange flame licks into existence.
38
EMMA
“Mike, no!”
His smile doesn’t waver. The single flame at the end of the match wavers as he breathes out. Then Mike holds out his hand and drops the match onto the bed.
Fire catches quickly. In a blink, my entire bed is ablaze in flames of orange and red. The air fills with the snap and crackle of fire, and a sharp, burning smell quickly invades my lungs as my comforter melts. Then Mike is on top of me, grabbing my face with both hands and trying to kiss me.
“No!” I squeal, twisting myself away from him as hard as I can. By some small mercy, the gasoline makes it difficult for Mike to maintain a grip on me. Skin slides against skin as I twist rapidly back and forth. I kick my legs until my feet hit something soft and Mike grunts, so I kick him again and again. My wrists scream in pain as the ridge of the belt cuts into them, but it becomes an afterthought.
I have to get free. I have to get out!
I won’t burn to death here. I won’t.
I have a baby to protect.
“Emma!” Mike yells. “I’m doing this for you, for us!”
“There is no us!” I scream at him. Wrenching my face away from his next attempt, I kick my leg out once more and my foot collides with his stomach. My dresser jumps slightly with my struggles, and the contents above fall loose. My perfume falls on the floor near me and shatters. Makeup brushes and jewelry follow. I fight and twist myself around.
Once I have my feet under me, I pull sharply against the belt and as the drawer drags open, my slick wrists finally slip free of my bindings. I fall to the floor, landing on Mike, who has been reaching for me.
Smoke begins to fill the room and I choke, gagging on the rapidly declining oxygen. Reaching for the nearest thing, Mike and I grapple. My fingertips skin over sharp shards of glass so I grab as many as I can and throw them into Mike’s eyes. As he lurches back with a cry, I shove my hand into his face and stamp those shards into his skin.
Then I’m on my feet. Coughing aggressively, I stumble for the bedroom door and wrench it open. Behind me, the wallpaper peels off the walls and the fire stretches long fingers across the ceiling. My bedside table and closet are consumed with flames. Those same flames lick at my ankles as I stumble from the room, narrowly avoiding the hungry fire.
Sprinting straight for the front door, I collide with the wood. I grab the handle but the door doesn’t budge.
It’s locked.
“Fuck!”
My eyes sting from smoke and gasoline, my clothes hang heavy from being soaked and my bare feet slide against the wooden floor as I turn and duck just in time to avoid Mike.
He throws himself at me, his clothes singed. There’s nothing but crazed anger in his eyes.
