Page 110 of To Ashes and Dust
I took it, no words left on my tongue as he led me into the shadows of the forest. I lost myself in the feel of the darkness sweeping over my skin as it enveloped us. Seconds later, we emerged into the darkened stairway of my parents’ house.
“Can you give me a moment?” I asked, the words barely breeching my lips, as if they didn’t want to be spoken.
He hesitated, but nodded, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be outside. Take all the time you need.”
I lingered in the living room as he stepped through the kitchen and out the backdoor. My feet were cemented there for a moment, my eyes moving over every detail. Memories of my childhood resurfaced, my thoughts drifting to pillow fights on the old couch in front of me, the couch where I’d watched countless football games with my dad until he was on his feet, shouting at players who couldn’t hear him. I thought about the time I’d spilled red acrylic paint all over the wood floors, red still visible to this day in the joints in certain places. Those memories only existed within me now.
There was too much here to tie me to them, too many pictures, too many keepsakes. I walked over to the shelves, to the countless portraits, the art projects.
This couldn’t be here when they got back…
I neared the bookshelf nestled in the corner and stretched onto my toes to reach for a picture on the top shelf. I eased back down, the small frame cold in my hands. It was a picture of the three of us. I was six or seven years old, sitting on my dad’s shoulders, my mom grinning widely up at me as I ate an ice cream cone. I smiled as I took it in. My tiny face was a mess of chocolate, and I remembered how my mom had told me that after it was taken, the ice cream had dripped onto my dad’s head. It was a time when things were simpler, happier, a time before I’d been diagnosed.
I pressed the portrait to my chest, tears welling in my eyes. They would be safe. They would be protected. They would be far from this mess.
They would be free of the burden of my death.
I drew an uneven breath, lifting my eyes, and I wiped the tears away as I glanced down the hall. Through the kitchen window, I could see Damien in the backyard. I wouldn’t make him wait any longer. I needed to do this before my parents woke and returned.
One final loose end.
I lifted my hand, my eyes falling to the tiny flames that sparked to life at my fingertips. The fire danced and swayed as I placed my hand against the bookshelf, the warmth seeping out of my body and into the wood. It smoldered and blackened before catching fire. I started toward the couch and my fingers grazed the threads, the fire creeping slowly across the armrest.
I clutched the tiny picture frame tighter to my chest, my hand quivering as I turned, the flames growing along my palm as I dragged it along the surface of everything I passed. It would be quick. There’d be no trace of me, nothing left to tie them to this place.
No turning back.
It didn’t take long for the fire to spread as I stepped through the hallway and into the kitchen. I glanced back over my shoulder, the flames already crawling across the living room, the glow lighting every inch of the space.
Cas?
Damien’s panicked voice shot through my thoughts, and I hadn’t realized I’d reached out to his mind. Maybe it was a part of me that didn’t want to be alone that caused me to slip, that led me to reach out to him. I continued through the kitchen, and I heard Damien’s heavy footsteps on the porch as I stepped through the back door to find him wide-eyed before me.
“What’re you doing?” he rasped.
“Destroying the last of it,” I said numbly. “There’s too much of me here.”
He looked past me, through the doorway to the quickly spreading flames. “But—”
“It’s better this way.” My eyes drifted back to the flames spreading through the kitchen. I placed my hand to the wall, the flames coming to life beneath my palm. The fire stretched in every direction as I unleashed the destructive power. Nothing would remain; nothing would be salvageable. It would be a fresh clean slate for them—a new life, one untethered to the sorrowful filled memories lingering within these walls.
The fire gradually consumed the house as Damien and I stepped back off the back porch. He watched the fire grow with uncertainty, but there was no stopping it now. A commotion broke out in the streets as the neighbors emerged from their homes.
“We should go before someone sees us,” Damien said, squeezing my hand.
I clutched the lone picture to my chest, the only thing that remained. I turned my head to him, nodding. “Ok.”
We turned, walking to the farthest corner of the backyard. I glanced over my shoulder as he held onto my hand, guiding me into the shadows. Wood crackled and splintered as the fire rose and climbed to the sky, embers dancing through the air. A loud crack rang out, and the roof caved in on itself. The flames were intense, the magic powerful, and it would likely be a pile of ash within a few hours.
Faint sirens stretched out across the sounds of the city just as the shadows swept over us, dousing my sight in inky blackness. I found myself in our room, the smell of ash and smoke faintly lingering on my clothes. I stood there, an odd coldness stretching through my chest. My knees gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.
There was no going back. They were gone. I’d never see them again. Tears flooded my eyes as Damien lowered himself before me, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“It’s done,” I whimpered.
“It is,mea luna.”
My chest tightened. “Tell me I did the right thing, Damien.”
