Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
But good girls weren’t supposed to be burned alive.
I tasted the bitter flake of ash on my tongue, soft as the first snowflake would be but twice as damning. Cruel and poisonous.
A reminder of death.
Somewhere beyond the walls, I heard him scream, the pitch of his voice piercing through even the snap of burning wood.
He wasn’t screaming for help.
No…
He screamed, knowing that help would never come.
He called out my name, his little frightened voice.
“I’m here,” I croaked, but I knew he couldn’t hear me.
He called out my name again, his sweet painful voice.
I tried to stand, but my legs buckled, pain searing through my body, and I collapsed to the scalding floor again.
“N-no,” I sobbed through the agony.
I tried to crawl—through the flames, through the sticky, impossible air, toward the sound of him.
It hurts.
My pulse thundered in my ears, roaring and drowning every other noise as the skin on my hands and knees grew red. The agony searing through my thigh was almost unbearable.
Everything hurt as everything else around me burned.
The rug was gone, eaten away, and the hardwood floors glowed orange.
My vision blurred.
I can’t breathe.
I reached out, one last time, certain I would find him. Certain I could save him if I just tried hard enough.
I’m coming… I’m here…
I dragged my body closer to the door, where the flames raged…
The closer I got, heat rolled over me in suffocating waves, biting at my skin, and scorching my lungs. My flesh tingled violently. The fire radiated against me with such ferocity that my instincts begged me to retreat, but I couldn’t…
I had to save him. I had to get to him. To them.
My skin throbbed beneath the assault, and I let out a wail. Piercing and anguished.
I was going to die.
We were going to die.
He meant for it to happen this way.
For us to die in such a deceptive, cruel manner.
He promised reprieve but then damned us like the monster he truly was.
A broken sob escaped past my throat.
I didn’t want to die.
Please…
The vision swam, the orange inferno disappearing as my world went dark.
I woke up in a full-body spasm, mouth open and gasping in a silent scream. My body was slick with sweat, trembling with the aftermath of my dream.
No, that wasn’t a dream.
It was a nightmare.
A memory.
Real and hellish.
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.