Page 77 of Roaring Flames

One second, I’m joking with my grandpa.

The next, the world tilts upside down.

I’m tumbling. Falling. Rolling. I can’t differentiate up from down. Pain explodes inside of me, but I don’t know where it’s coming from. Everywhere. Nowhere.

A red sheen obscures my vision, like a curtain drawn shut, and a whimper of pain escapes me. Out of my periphery, I see my father, his face streaked with blood, his eyes vacant and unseeing.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

Pain.

So much pain.

Something digs into my chest, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s the seat belt.

My head’s foggy, almost as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton balls, and dizziness threatens to consume me. The edges of my vision darken.

Then I’m aware of nothing at all.

“No. You’re lying! This isn’t… This can’t be…” My body shakes. Trembles. Convulses.

I can’t think straight. There’s an incessant pounding in my head, like someone took a sledgehammer to my brain and is whacking it repeatedly.

I’m honestly afraid that I’ll pass out.

Is this some kind of cruel joke?

No, that can’t be right. My fathers wouldn’t do that to me. Neither would Izzy, whom I have come to love like a sister.

Bile snakes its way up my throat, burning like flickering embers, and I squeeze my lips together to keep it at bay.

“We knew we needed to tell you but couldn’t find the words to,” Hale tells me, his voice gentle. Crooning.

It almost feels as if he’s approaching a rabid dog, one snapping and foaming at the mouth. Am I that dog? I certainly feel a little unhinged, like my life has been tipped upside down, and I can’t get my feet back underneath me.

“Jake…” Izzy’s voice trembles as she attempts to comfort me.

“I… I need…” I jump to my feet and move to the kitchen, belatedly aware that the others have followed me.

I open drawers at random, knowing what I’m looking for but unable to remember where it is. My brain still doesn’t seem to be working right. Someone put up anOut of Ordersign and left the premises.

Finally, I grab the handle of a steak knife and whirl around.

Izzy’s blue eyes are wide in her face. “Jake, what are you doing?”

“You’re lying,” I snap at Hale, who has come to stand directly behind her.

“I’m sorry?—”

I slice at my wrist with the blade.

Izzy screams, the noise chipping away a piece of my heart, but I ignore it and focus on the wound.

The non-bloody wound.

There’s nothing but a single line marring the skin.

---