Haunting Flames And Forlorn Misery

It has been more than two years since the fire, but the stink of it is still in her hair, on her skin. She takes long showers twice a day, but the smell lingers. When she closes her eyes at night, the images come back to her, images of…

…her fiery prison.

She’s a hostage at the mercy of her own thoughts. Captive to memories she can’t escape.

I tell her things will get better. Not because I’m her bestfriend, but because I truly believe it.

But every time she closes her eyes for peace she only finds nightmares. She only finds misery.

Two alive. Five dead.

It only took one night for her to lose everything. Everything except her younger brother—the only person that has lost more than even her.

He hasn’t spoken once since that night. The trauma of losing his parents and three siblings is far too great for him to bear.

The doctors say he may never speak again, but honestly, I feel he only knows how to communicate through tears now.

He watched his parents burn to death while trying to protect him. So though my bestfriend smells fire, she knows he smells flesh.

I can’t imagine what they’re going through. Battling memories that continue to haunt.

I try to be there for her like she has for me so many times, but most days I haven’t a clue what to say. She was once so cheerful. Now she’s broken.

I remember it like it was yesterday. She was spending the night and we were playing games. Eating homemade pasta and garlic bread. Laughing until our stomachs hurt.

That all ended with a single call. We both stared at my mom as a gasp escaped her lips. She then dropped the phone and ran to the window. We followed.

Across the street all we could see was smoke coming from her house. Smoke and tireless flames consuming everything.

Before my parents and I could stop her she ran fearlessly toward it. Not even the fire department could stop her.

I remember crying as I watched her enter the house. It was at that moment I knew I lost my bestfriend.

Seconds felt like hours, but eventually we all saw a shadow appear from the flames. Out she came holding her brother tight in her arms. Luckily he was alive. Though, I’m not sure that should be called luck at all.

I run to her to see if she’s okay, but she walks pass me. I notice the burns on her arms and legs, but that’s not what scared me most. It was her eyes. They were lifeless.

In that silence I knew the fire did something no one has managed to ever do. Those damned flames managed to steal her happiness. They stole her light.

Her brother wouldn’t stop crying, but eventually tired and fell asleep. Without a word she finally left his side to take a shower. It was the longest shower I’ve ever witnessed. My parents didn’t try to stop her either.

By the time she came out I could see her wrinkled fingers peak from under her robe. I wrapped my arms around her without speaking.

In that brief silence was the first time she made a sound.

And it wasn’t the sound of crying. Instead, it was the sound of an unworldly shriek. One that shouldn’t exist here. One that reached my heart and shattered it.

I ended up falling asleep next to her that night. Or at least I tried. As her and her brother slept, the sounds of her screams echoed through my mind. So my eyes never stayed closed for long.

Ever since then they have been living with us.

And though it’s been two years, those wicked flames continue to suffocate her.

One day she will be okay, though. And deep inside I know she believes it, too. She just needs to find the key to her prison. The key that holds her light captive.

And she knows she has to.

For once she’s freed from her fiery prison, she can finally free her brother from his.

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