Page 5 of Torn By Fate

Painful and grievous.

My heart hammered so hard I thought it might shatter a rib. My legs were tangled with the bedsheets, and I desperately tried to break free. I hated this feeling, being trapped. It suffocated me, the feeling that I couldn’t move, like I couldn’t escape.

It was too much of a reminder of that night.

Of the reality I had tried to run away from.

My eyes could barely adjust to the absolute, thick darkness in the room that seemed to consume me in the most terrifying way. I could hear the hum of the mini-fridge, the low tick of the alarm clock next to me, and the sound of the rain pebbling against the glass windows.

My chin wobbled with a silent cry.

I was alive…

My whole body tingled with awareness, but on my upper thigh, a phantom burn flared—so real I expected to see charred flesh, though I knew there was nothing there.

No flames flickering over my skin, no residue of the burn, and no lingering scar.

“Goddamn it.” I pressed a hand over my face. My cheeks were damp with tears and I let out a choked, pitiful sob into my palms.

Fire, always fire. I never dreamed of the start of it—just the middle, the worst part, the part where I was already burning, the part where it pained me the most, the moment where I realized it had all come to an end. A bitter, terrible end.

The clock beside me ticked with slow, officious indifference.

My tongue was coated, thick with the memory of smoke, with the taste of ash. I could still smell it, feel it…

I dropped my hands and peeled myself off the mattress, swinging my legs over the edge. My feet thudded against the worn hardwood floors as I stumbled blindly to the bathroom.

I fumbled with the shower faucet, turning it all the way to cold. The water arched out, splattering against the wall of the shower, and I didn’t waste another second before stepping underneath the ice-cold spray.

I stood there for a long time, the water soaking through my nightshirt and underwear, plastering the fabric to my skin, but beneath it, the burning held on. I could still feel the flames flickering over my flesh, the burnt smell filling my nostrils and settling into the back of my throat.

Another choked sob escaped me.

My hands came up, fingers digging into my scalp, clawing at it. I welcomed the sharp sting, desperate for it to eclipse the pain inside of me.

But no physical pain was enough to silence the ache beneath my ribs.

Inhale. Exhale.

I tried to remind myself to breathe, but the panic that came with the nightmare wouldn't allow me to. My heart thudded against my rib cage, hard and loud, each beat echoing in my ears like the roar of thunder.

The clenching in my jaw tightened, my teeth grinding together as the memory assaulted me again and again.

I didn’t know how long I stood under the cold water but somehow… eventually, my body hollowed into something quieter, a familiar emptiness.

Numb.

The heat of the flames was replaced by the iciness of the water seeping into my pores, burying its coldness underneath my skin, reminding my flesh that whatever that nightmare was, it was just that—a nightmare.

An old, distant memory.

I was no longer burning.

The flames were not real.

Not anymore.

The fire was gone, old and buried in the past.