Page 150 of Knot Baked Out For This
She takes the bouquet, looks at it with undisguised disgust, then tosses it into the pit with prejudice. It lands on top of chocolate boxes and jewelry and cards I didn't read but knew were poisonous.
I pull out my matches—the good ones from the ranch, not the cheap ones that fail when you need them most—and light one, offering it to her.
"When you need to move on," I tell her, "it starts with burning away the past that's desperate to drag you down."
She stares at the small flame, mesmerized.
"Light it all up," I continue. "And while it burns, say everything. Every hurt, every fear, every piece of anger you've been swallowing. Doesn't matter how much or how loud or how long. No one can hear you up here except the sunrise, so let it out. Let it all burn with the past that's trying to haunt you from the tallest peak in Oakridge."
She takes the match with steady fingers, though I can see her pulse fluttering at her throat. Takes three deep breaths like she's preparing for battle. Then tosses it with a look of pure determination.
The fire catches immediately—I may have added accelerant, but she doesn't need to know that. Flames leap up, hungry and cleansing, devouring roses and lies with equal enthusiasm.
She starts quietly, almost whispering.
"I hate how they treated me."
The words get louder.
"Bullied me. Belittled me. Made me feel so fucking small in my own home."
Tears start falling, but she doesn't stop. If anything, she gets louder.
"I hate what you did to me! How you broke me down piece by piece until I didn't recognize myself!"
She's really going now, voice carrying across the empty mountain.
"I HATE HOW YOU MADE ME HATE MY BODY!"
The scream echoes off the rocks, raw and powerful.
"Hate how you made me feel so fucking insecure, like I wasn't worthy of love! How you've made it so hard to trust anyone who dares show me affection!"
She's sobbing now but still screaming, letting years of suppressed rage finally have a voice.
"I HATE HOW YOU WASTED MY YEARS LIKE I WASN'T WORTHY OF BETTER! LIKE I WAS NOTHING! LIKE I DESERVED THE CRUELTY!"
The fire roars higher as if feeding on her pain, transforming it into heat and light and ash.
"FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME SMALL! FUCK YOU FOR THE ROSES! FUCK YOU FOR EVERY SMILE I FAKED AND EVERY TEAR I HID AND EVERY PIECE OF MYSELF I GAVE UP TO TRY TO BE ENOUGH FOR YOU!"
She screams wordlessly then, pure sound that carries every hurt she can't name, and I force myself to stay back. This is hers. Her moment, her ownership, her reclaiming.
Finally, she runs out of voice, out of tears, standing there panting and shaking. The fire crackles, consuming the last of Korrin's attempts to hurt her, and she wipes her face with trembling hands.
Then she sees it.
"Oh my god," she whispers.
The sunrise has started while she raged. The horizon bleeds pink and gold, painting the sky in shades of beginning. Light spills across the valley below, setting the autumn trees on fire in the good way, the beautiful way. The whole world spreads out before us, vast and possible and hers for the taking.
She moves around the fire pit—her past literally burning behind her—and walks to the wooden fence at the cliff's edge. The symbolism isn't lost on either of us: facing the sunrise while everything that hurt her turns to ash and smoke.
I finally let myself approach, standing beside her as she takes in the view. Gently place my hand on her head, smoothing her wind-wild hair.
"You did it," I tell her softly. "Left the past behind. Let it burn."
She turns to look at me, and her face is incandescent—tear-tracked but glowing, exhausted but energized, broken open but somehow more whole.
