Page 53 of Burn for Me

Where was she?

Not in bed.

Fuck, I needed to get her out of there.

Angry yellow flames consumed the room, and I thanked the lucky stars that I worked with fire often enough to not be paralysed by the images bombarding my head. May’s tearsstreaking down her smoke stained cheeks as the fire greedily ate its way up her body. My own skin melting and cooking right before me. The wails from both of us that I’d never forget. I grabbed my bag from the floor and pulled my gas mask into place, looking through the licking fire for any sign of my girl.

I fastened my trousers and pulled my bag onto my back, looking around for a way through the raging inferno. My diaries had already curled up into charred remnants.

There was no good way through. Steeling myself, I charged toward the door, hoping my speed would avoid the worst of the heat. My skin didn’t sear, but the smell of singed hair followed as I crashed down the stairwell.

Smoke filtered down to the ground floor, but no fire yet.

I cursed my stupid fucking mouth. Every ounce of me wanted to scream Laura’s name. To find her. Was she asleep? Was she stuck somewhere, terrified after having been in a burning building before?

The air was too thick to see easily in the cottage, and I stumbled from the sitting room to the bathroom to the kitchen, looking for Laura. Maybe she’d made it out?

Orange descended the stairs, blackening everything in its wake. Goosebumps raised the singed hairs covering my arms. Panic rose in my chest, making me want to wretch. I couldn’t stay, but I knew if I went out of the door I couldn’t go back in. If Laura wasn’t out there, I’d never forgive myself for leaving her.

A glint caught my eye on the bottom step as I made my way past it once again. Something small and round.

It was an opened, emptied tin of accelerant.

Realisation hit me like a motherfucking tank.

Laura had burned down my fucking cottage. On purpose.

She’d tried to kill me!

Rage engulfed me. Pure, unadulterated anger making my head want to explode.

I made for the door, battling through the thick, black smoke. A brief glimpse of my violin box had me stopping in my tracks. Knowing I shouldn’t go back for it, I hesitated. Flames licked greedily at the edge of the box and my stomach leapt into my mouth. I couldn’t leave it.

Bracing myself, I fought my way back into the belly of the fire, ignoring the heat grasping at my clothing until the box was in reach. I snatched it up, relief filling me. It had seen me through too much sorrow to meet such an ending. With it firmly gripped in my fingers, I made for the exit.

The cool night air welcomed me like an old friend, kissing me with clean, fresh breaths. My boots sat next to the entrance, where I’d left them, and I shoved them on. I’d need them if I was going to hunt Laura down.

I scanned the horizon, looking for movement. The moon grazed the sea, sending a low light over the rocky shore.

Where the fuck are you?

The stones shifted underfoot as I stalked out in the direction of Old Bess, imagining she would have headed for the boat. I dropped my bag and my violin some twenty metres from my burning home, not needing anything to get in the way of catching my brat.

She’d acted out, and god was she going to pay.

The rocky jetty was silent. I neared my boat, listening out for any signs of Laura. In the distance something cracked in the cottage, sending a burst of flame through a broken window.

Gritting my teeth, I jumped the space between the land and the deck, landing solidly.

Where are you?

Silence met me, even as I made my way toward the cabin. No hurried steps nor quickened breath.

A rush of excitement ran through me, making every one of my senses focus sharply. I’d never felt more like a hunter, seeking my prey. If only I could catch her scent on the wind and use it to track her down.

Darkness filled the cabin, the kitchen as deserted as we’d left it on our arrival to the island. Our previous conversations still marked the walls around the boat in thick black letters. Letter I’d last seen against her sweat slicked skin.

Taking care to soften my steps, I took the slim stairs down toward the bedroom and bathroom area. The air felt undisturbed, but I stalked through every inch of the place, checking cupboards and alcoves, leaving no stone unturned.

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