Nonconformity | Henry Creel

Arson

The lighter was like dead weight in the palm of my hand. The graveness of what I was about to do pounded at the back of my head, an ever-present reminder of all that could go wrong. What if the fire got out of control? What if I got caught before I even had a chance to light it? My entire plan could flip on its head at the smallest inconvenience.

Still, I could not find that reason enough.

I would keep the fire contained. Tenable, but not too easy to put out. There had to be some sort of risk factor if I wanted to push everyone into action. It would all be worth it, because more than anything, I needed that tape. Needed to know what had actually happened to me, and how Peter tied into it all.

As soon as his name crossed my mind, memories from the night prior resurfaced. His grin, an awful amalgamation of smugness and arrogance, strewn across the most beautiful face I'd seen in my life. Truth be told, I hadn't minded it. That grin was the most honest I'd ever seen Peter, despite the fact that it was entirely fabricated. I could have spent the entire day lingering on every minor detail, every word that passed the threshold of his lips, but I had more important things to worry about. For once, I would not allow Peter to have a chokehold on the forefront of my mind.

And so I walked with brisk, determined strides, careful to avoid cameras when I could. Occasionally, I would pass a guard. Panic would crawl up my throat, and then I'd send them the most tooth-achingly sweet smile I could manage. At the very beginning of my search for a storage room, an orderly stopped me and asked where I was going. I faltered, to be sure, but she didn't seem to notice. 'Bathroom.' I said that single word and then smiled. She smiled back, and I continued on my walk without interruption.

When I came across the perfect storage room for my plan, an awful, foreboding sensation lingered in the air. I could feel it brushing against my skin, whispering doubt in my ear. Still, I persisted. I didn't have a choice. My shaking hands pulled open the door.

I stared into the empty, white confines of the room. A pipe ran along the ceiling, the only object that occupied the space aside from a few cleaning products and a light switch. It was perfect. Far enough away from Papa's office so that I'd have time to slip in and out without detection. There were plenty of halls surrounding it, so should the fire grow unmanageable, anyone who wanted to run would have the chance. I didn't want anyone to get hurt without necessity.

I held the lighter between shaking hands. A click echoed down the hallway, and fire spouted from the top. The flame danced from side to side, ebbing and flowing with my every breath. I wasn't as nervous as I should've been. This could go so, terribly wrong in so many different ways, and yet I was completely content with what I planned to do. After everything this place had taken from me, I would take pleasure in watching it burn. Watching the awful, white tile wither away to nothing.

My palms were slick with sweat as I closed my eyes, readying for the task at hand. The energy in my veins was hypersensitive today, responsive although I hadn't done much to summon it. I didn't realize how much sleep factored into my abilities until I went without it.

Now, I felt so much more awake. My entire body hummed with a power that reddened my skin and rosed my cheeks as it flowed like molten lava through my veins. I allowed myself one quiet, introspective moment to relish in the feeling.

One more breath, and I opened my eyes.

The flame jumped to attention once I raised the palm of my hand. It curled around my skin, coming dangerously close and yet never daring to touch me. I urged the electricity forward until the flame sputtered, growing before my eyes.

I stared into the borderline empty storage room once more. It stared back in all of its useless glory, dismal as ever. There was no hesitation when I reeled back my hand and sent the lighter crashing onto the floor.