Page 5 of Fire Bound

The metal door opens so abruptly, I jump away from the bed and retreat until my back hits the far wall. The bright lights from the hallway make the person standing in the doorway look like a dark silhouette. I can’t make out their face, but the familiar cologne filling the room turns my blood to ice water.

Just like in my nightmares, he comes for me, but there is nowhere for me to go. Nowhere for me to hide. I want to be brave like Mom tells me to, but the voice in my head is telling me to run.

My heart beats hard in my chest and my hands shake at my sides.

“Jax.” I don’t like it when he says my name. “Come here.”

My eyes dart around the room, looking for a way I could escape him, but he’s blocking the only door.

“That wasn’t a request.” He gets angrier.Darker. He takes another step and I’m finally able to see the man I share half my blood with. Mom’s right, we don’t look anything alike. His hair is light, or what’s left of it is light. My hair is dark, just like Mom’s. His eyes are also different than mine, but then again, I haven’t met someone with eyes the same color as mine. Mom tells me they’re special.

Special.

I’m really tired of being called that.

“Now, son.”

Shoving my nervous hands into the pockets of the jeans that are two inches too short on me, I shuffle forward. Once I’m close enough, his big hand grabs my shoulder a little too tight, making me wince. He doesn’t say anything else as he leads me down the bright white hallway. This hallway is familiar, it leads to the medical suites. I hate those rooms. They always stick me with needles and take my blood. They also have those loud machines that take pictures of my bones and whatnot. I hate those things too, they’re too small. They make me feel like I can’t breathe.

“Where’s my mom?” I finally muster the courage to ask.

“I’m taking you to her now.” His green eyes that don’t hold an ounce of kindness in them slide down to me.

Not wanting to make eye contact with him, I look down. Each step we take, I count the tiles we pass.One, two, three…

He leads me through doorways, each one makes a buzzing noise when it opens. He has a special key card that opens each one. Mom always jokes about stealing one so we can leave. I know it’s a bad idea, but still every time I see one, I contemplate taking it.

Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two…“Jax, remember how I tell you that you are destined for greatness? That you’re—”

“Special,” I whisper before he can finish.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Very special. You are the first of your kind, a medical miracle. You are what I’ve been working toward for so many years. All the hours and deaths are worth it because you exist. Not many people are as great as you, as extraordinary. Some people are simply…ordinary. They have very little to offer and sometimes what they have to give isn’t enough.” He pauses by one more set of closed doors. “Do you know what happens to people who hold no value to me anymore?”

Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven…

I shake my head slowly but still don’t look up.

The doors open and he pulls me through them, his fingers still dig painfully into my collarbone. I’m afraid he’ll leave a mark. Mom won’t like it if he does.

“People who do not add to the advancement of my work are deadweight. Completely useless to me. I do not have the time or resources to keep someone like that around.” He talks about people like he’s talking about an annoying fly that won’t stop buzzing around his head. A nuisance. “I want you to remember this, Jax. I want you to remember that as long as you have something to give me, I will keep you around. I will allow you to keep breathing, but the second you turn into a burden, I will eliminate you.”

Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine…

We walk around a corner into another wide hallway. When he jerks me to a stop, I finally lift my chin and take in my surroundings. I really wish I hadn’t looked.

One hundred.

One hundred tiles, that’s how many steps it took for my life to be forever changed.

When the hand on my shoulder slips away, so does everything else. All I can focus on is the sight before me. All I can feel is the crippling pain radiating from my chest as my heart breaks.

All the warmth, all the light, has been drained from her. Her skin looks too pale, her lips aren’t as pink, her eyes that are usually a warm brown are dull, staring blankly at the ceiling. The white sheet is tucked all the way up to her chin, hiding the rest of her still body.

“Mom!” My voice comes out like a strangled cry. I hardly recognize it as my own.

“Your mother was deadweight,” I hear him comment somewhere behind me, but it sounds like he’s a hundred miles away. “So, she was dealt with accordingly.”

The soles of my sneakers squeak on the tile floors as I take the timid steps toward her. The sound echoes around the eerily quiet space. I’m subconsciously aware that there are staff standing around where she lies. They stand back, giving her space.

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