On Fire. Everything is on fire.



In my ears I can hear your balling scream. The pounding in my ears pumps the blood through my head. I can smell the smoke billow up around me. I do nothing but lay on the mattress, clinging to the sheets of my bed. I can feel the heat condensing around me. The steam laps at my skin. The air is monstrous, it burdens me down.



I have to move. If I don't, I will die. But I don't wake. I don't dare open my eyes. I stay patched to your bed. If I stir I may wake up. If I wake up, I'll be back in my own world. The only trinket I have of how real this really is is the blood I fell trickling from my fingertips, slowly sizzling as it hits the warm floor. My nails are digging into my skin. Not for the fear of being here. The fear of being where you are, where you are being me.



My worst fears are recognized as I feel warm tears commence to race down my cheeks. I can hear his voice coaxing me in my ears. He's trying to be soothing, to be reassuring. I only cry more. I'm in my right situation now. I'm no longer on fire.



I'm in pain. My whole being is in pain.



I feel his hand move up my leg. "I only want to make you feel better." He whispers. But I feel awful, weighty. The more he whispers I love you, the more convinced I am he hates me. I don't move, I can't move. I'm assured that he will kill me. Everything I am, he slowly takes it away, slowly claims it as his own. He constantly asks me how I feel. But no words will come from my lips, I can't do anything but moan. I shut my eyes, trying to imagine my world getting hotter...



I'm standing in your doorway. I open my mouth for air. Instead heinous smoke piles in. I choke, unable to breath. My eyes are wide open, hinting to me that this is real. I have to get out of here alive, or you'll die.



I try to find the doorway, trying to remember where it is. I can't breath. Air's access to my lungs has been denied. I'm lunging myself forward on my feet, as far as I can, until I drop dead-like onto the floor. I push myself forward as if I'm swimming, know that I can't stop. These next few moments will determine your life. I've given up on breathing now. As I push myself into the kitchen toward your back door, I can already feel the cool outside air brisk my face, even though it refuses to enter my lungs. As I come closer, I feel a pair of arms grip me, and I instantly feel my mouth open as air is pushed down my throat. I'm on my way to breathing again.



As for you, I remember where I left you. In my situation, being held down by a guy trying to take advantage of you. I close my eyes and see you there, teary eyed and fear-stricken. I reach out my hand toward you and with little strength I have left, pull you out. You pull on me too, and now we're standing on the middle ground. An empty street. Rain pours in on us in buckets, adding heaviness to our hair and clothes. Even through the rain, I can see your tear heavy eyes, and you can see mine. Mine, the ones that looked on you in hatred years ago. The ones that despised you because I thought you were someone to trust, and you proved me wrong.



I looked at you as streams of water ran off your shiny black hair and onto your shoulders. Tragedy naturally brought us back together. This time it was me who did it. I brought you back up.



"Why did you do that?" you ask as steadily as you can.



I want to look down, but I force myself to look you in the eye. "To show that I'm indifferent to you."



She sinks her head, like she doesn't really believe what I'm saying. My head drowns too, because i don't know if I quite believe what I said either.