Bring The Heat

79. Sacred Cornflower

The light of the sunrise peeked over the buildings of Jewel Street, shooting down roads and alleys, in through windows and holes in walls. But one thing seemed to hold it off, even when the thick smog of the air couldn't. Dust.

In the abandoned shopping mall, sunlight busted through the window without hesitation, and so early in the day. DV laid on the floor, looking gazing over at the illuminated spot just beside her as she resided in the shadows. The was the dust danced through it, filtering it out, leaving but a faded remnant of solar glory to paint the small area of the room in front of it... admirable.

From a corner of the large, empty room, Twig emerged, stepping into the light, spreading his arms out and basking in it like the child he was.

"Get out of the light." DV commanded, and he did without even thinking to argue. "It's not meant for people like us."

He turned, and hesitantly pointed.

"B- but... your hand..."

DV looked down, seeing that the very edge of her hand was now illuminated by the rising sun. The glorious yellow painted her pale skin, and it felt so warm... horrified as she was, she stopped for a second, and didn't move her hand, before quickly snapping it away. She stood, backing away from the light so it wouldn't fall upon her again.

Twig gave her an uneasy look, and she sighed.

"Try not to think about what you gave up for this, Twig. But..." she trailed off, putting on her hat and pulling the wide brim over her eyes, "never forget why."

Twig turned away from the light, lowering his eyes. Alan... Emma... at the time, losing them felt so wrong, but now he could see. It was for DV. Because one day they would rule Jewel Street together, if she just finished her dirty work - he didn't care what it was, he just wanted to help her do it fast.

Sighing, DV left the room. She could feel Twig thinking again. Some, some part of her felt bad for manipulating him. That light that stuck to her, like a tumor. She wandered into the bathroom, and leaned over the dirty, broken sink.

Slowly, she looked up at the cracked mirror. Her glassy eyes shed tears, disgusting, salty, waste of hydration. The tears stopped flowing almost instantly.

DV looked back down at her hands, gripping the edges of the sink tightly. For the first time in a while, she felt peace. Tiny black flames licked around the edges of her fingers.

She closed her eyes. It was all dark here.

The black flames grew, climbing up her hands. It burnt, it burnt so cold, like frostbite and overheating at the same time. Her skin went purple, then red, then charred black. But she bit her tongue and let the flames climb.

She screwed her eyes shut tighter. It was so, so dark.

Wrists. The flames climbed to her wrists, then past. Wincing at the pain, DV strained herself not to scream, throwing her head forward, but keeping her eyes shut. Still so, so dark, but somewhere in her mind, she grasped a gentle light, serenity, divinity, a red heaven, the colour of love, not blood, the colour of home and what she could be, what she was, what she... once was.

The flames petered out as a cold wind took the room.

Red heaven. Home. Delusions in her mind. The past never came back, not even if you chased it down and caught it. Time and everything it touched was an ever-evolving beast. The land before the things DV had done was a land forgotten and left to rot.

Little tentacles crawled from her eyebrows, pulling her eyelids open. Her once watery, human eyes were replaced by glassy dead ones. She looked into the mirror, and didn't recognize herself, even if it was her. But it wasn't. She was left back there, in that red heaven. DV told herself that until she was convinced and satisfied. She had to get it together before the attack. Speaking of...