Page 78 of Roaring Flames

“What the hell?” I whisper through numb lips.

“Jake, put the knife down,” Gerry consoles gruffly, advancing towards me.

But I can’t pull my attention away from where I cut myself.

I’m not bleeding.

Why am I not bleeding?

Why am I not fucking bleeding?

Panic grabs hold of me and shakes me around like a rag doll. My breathing comes out in stuttered, shallow gasps.

“No. No. No. No. This can’t be fucking happening.”

I’m not…alive.

I’m dead.

Oh god. I’m dead.

What the fuck am I?

They said… They said I’m a golem. A creature made of clay.

I need to get away. To run. To escape.

I lock eyes with Izzy, my gaze beseeching. She, more than anyone, can understand what I’m going through. I have no idea what role she has to play in all of this, but if it’s anything like the one I have…

She nods once in understanding and then shifts her body so she’s blocking Hale and Gerry from getting to me.

I take off in a run, ignoring their pleas for me to return. But I can’t. Not yet. Not now. Maybe not ever. My brain is in turmoil,and my heart feels as if it’s been squeezed through a meat grinder.

I’m not alive.

I’m not alive.

I’m not a-fucking-live.

I throw myself into the car and then slam the door shut. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I will my breathing to calm. Despite my best wishes, it continues to escape me in uneven, shallow pants.

Almost absently, I realize I’m still holding the steak knife, the weapon caught between my palm and the wheel. I force my fingers to relax, to loosen, and the knife clatters onto the seat between my legs.

I stare at it for a long moment. The wooden handle. The sharp blade. My tear-stained reflection on the surface.

I’m not alive.

I’m not alive.

I’m not alive.

Sobbing, I pick the knife up once more and hold it to my pinkie finger.

I didn’t bleed when it cut me.

But what will happen when I remove a body part?

A scream lodges in my throat, begging to break free, as I begin to slice.

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