Page 11 of Indigo Sky

"Go inside," he told me, his eyes holding mine with care and concern. "I'll clean this shit up while you find a movie."

And I did what he’d said.

***

"All right, Rev. You just stand right here. I'm gonna light it up, but you stand back, okay?"

"Okay," I say, watching as my father walks toward the other end of the driveway.

But I remember that I want to tell Dad something. What is it? What do I want to say? What—

No, no, no. Stay here. Stay right here. Don't go anywhere, I urge myself, focusing every bit of brainpower on keeping my legs stationary.No! What are you doing?! Stop!

But my legs won't stop moving, walking toward Dad. Panic has a hold of me while fear stills the air in my lungs. My arms flail, my brain screams, and my lips open to warn Dad, to tell him I’m standing right here, right in the line of fire, but I have no voice.

Dad!I scream in my mind.Dad! Don't light it! Don't—

BOOM!

I awoke with a jolt and stared out into my bedroom, blackened in the night. Sweat soaked my sheets and dotted my sticky brow. I wiped a hand over my forehead, acutely aware of the rough, dimpled patch of skin above my right eye. I tried not to shudder, tried to tell myself I was okay with my face being this way, that I'd been okay for years now, and still, I pulled my hand away with a heavy exhale.

It'd been seven whole years, yet I wasn’t completely used to the scars. And ifIwasn’t, how was anyone else supposed to?

I swung my feet out of bed and glanced at the clock. It was one o'clock in the morning. Mom and Dad would probably be annoyed that I was awake, but I needed a drink. I needed to settle down before I could attempt to sleep again.

I'll just tell them I had another nightmare. It's not a lie anyway, and they'll understand. They always understand.

I stood and shuffled over my carpeted bedroom floor to the closed door when I began to hear voices in the hallway.

"I don't know what that was. You heard it too, right?"

"Yeah. Shook the whole damn house."

Mom and Dad were right outside my door, whispering loudly in startled voices, like they were trying to keep it down, but I could hear the tremors in their tones. The worry. The fear.

Maybe I wasn't dreaming …

I pulled the door open, surprising both of them. They turned to stare at me, pale and wide-eyed.

I hadn't seen them this afraid since … well, since …

"What's going on?" I asked, looking from Dad to Mom to Dad again.

"Did it wake you up too?" Mom asked, not bothering to keep her voice lowered, now knowing I was already awake.

"I had a nightmare, but …" I dropped my gaze to the hallway floor. "I thought I was just dreaming …"

"It sounded like an explosion outside," Dad said, turning toward the front of the house.

Then, there came the sirens.

It seemed like dozens of them—no, hundreds. Tons and tons of sirens, beginning in the distance and rapidly approaching. My parents and I looked at each other, terrified of something we all now knew to be reality and not just a silly, shared dream. We hurried together to the front door and onto the lawn outside, all of us turning in haphazard circles, searching for something, until Mom gasped and pointed.

"Oh my God," she uttered, laying a hand over her mouth.

Dad spotted what she was referring to. "Holy shit. Oh my … oh my God," he uttered, clapping a hand on top of his head.

I swore I felt the heat before I saw the flickering flames, reaching toward the blackened sky and licking at the stars and clouds with wild brilliance.

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