Wildfire

Chapter 45

45. Free

There is a fine line between sanity and lunacy — and for me, that line was the winding road that stretched between the place I was born and the place where I found shelter for the first time in my life. I imagined that the crunch of leaves and slushy snow beneath my feet were my memories, so warped and changed by my ever-shifting perspective that they barely resembled what they once were.

Each time I placed one foot in front of the other, I had to tell myself that it was just a couple more steps. I had no idea what my end goal was. All I knew was that if I didn't cling to that command, if I didn't follow that imperative... I wouldn't make it.

My grandmother's house was dark when I finally arrived. I fished the spare key from beneath a flower pot on the porch and let myself in side, an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was so easy to imagine that she was upstairs sleeping, that I was sneaking into the house after a night out wandering the streets.

She would wake up in the morning and grumble about the mess I had left on my way in...

... except she wouldn't.

Because she was dead.

You have a week to decide what side you're fighting for.

I strode toward the stairs without really thinking about it, climbing the stairs and pushing open the door to the bathroom. My veins were like ice, my whole body starting to shake with the cold, and I had no idea if it had been brought on by the weather or the events of the night. But the drive to get warm, to feel warm again, dominated my thoughts. I flicked on the shower, pushing the dial to the highest setting and stripped off my clothes.

When I stepped under the scalding spray, I should have flinched. I should have reacted to the scorching water, but I couldn't. I stood there and waited for the cold to go away, but it didn't.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream until my lungs hurt so bad, no sound could ever force its way out. But I didn't.

I just stood there under the water, staring numbly at the wall and clinging to the last shred of lucidity I had left.

_____________________

Minutes past. It could have been hours; I wasn't really keeping track.

I forgot how to.

I concentrated on breathing, on the in-out motion, each expansion and contraction of my lungs. I reminded myself that I was alive — but the idea didn't seem as much of a triumph as it had before.

So I was alive.

So what.

___________________________

The water eventually ran cold but the shock of it didn't quite reach as deep as it should have. I remained inside, trying to muster up the energy to move... or even care... but it took a while. I grabbed a towel from the towel rack, my movements slow and methodical as I dried myself off and moved into my bedroom.

It wasn't until the smell reached my nose that I realized I had slipped into one of Diego's t-shirts.

Don't think the fact that you're my daughter will save you.

I stumbled over to the bed, pulling the duvet up over my head and burying myself in the pitch darkness. The stillness of the night seemed to echo in my ears, the sound of distant cars like a quiet hum in the background. I could feel the dampness of my hair seeping into the mattress but I didn't care.