The Truth Hurts

03 │inferno

2 WEEKS LATER

She can still hear them. The sirens, piercing from all directions as they reverberate loudly inside her mind. They grow louder. She can't hear her own thoughts anymore. She can't see either—everything a blur from the lights flashing from down the street.

The forest surrounding the road is ablaze, nothing but a scorching inferno stretching for endless miles. Thick, black smoke clogs the air around her. With every breath she feels her heart cringe, her lungs on the verge of collapsing. She can no longer breathe.

And behind her... Behind her is Hell.

The alarm clock continues to buzz from her nightstand.

Taylor, sweating crazily, jumps up in her bed, gasping desperately for fresh air. She glances around her room as she runs her hands through her long hair, realizing it was nothing but a nightmare. Another goddamn nightmare.

She turns to hit the alarm clock, which reads '7:31 AM'. Her room is neatly organized and clean, especially for a teenager. Her bookshelf is filled with mostly romance and mystery novels and, tucked in on the bottom corner, she has her guilty pleasure of science fiction hidden. A wide mirror, mounted on the back of her dresser, is bordered with dozens of pictures. Most taken from her digital camera and cropped, and some taken from her old Polaroid. She and Casey, the unbreakable duo, fill most of them. She and Marc are in a few. Morgan is in one.

Music blares from down the hall. Wearing a white, wrinkled v-neck and boxer shorts, she steps out onto the hardwood floor in the hallway. As her bare feet touch the cold floor, it sends a chill down her spine. An odd, yet relaxing sensation. It's like drinking a glass of lemonade after mowing the lawn. Or waking up in reality after burning in Hell.

The music grows louder as she approaches another bedroom door on the right. She pounds on it.

No response.

"Morgan!" She shouts, banging on the door yet again.

The volume increases. She can feel the bass from the song vibrating on the floor beneath her toes.

"Morgan, you already know what the principal said! If you don't come back, you're going to be suspended!"

Nothing. She sighs and decides to try one more time. As she reaches up to knock the music cuts off and the door is pulled open.

"Sup." Morgan mutters, tossing his radio remote on his desk near the door and reaches down to grab his backpack. She stares at him, surprised yet relieved.

He slings the backpack over his shoulder and shoots a quick glance at her outfit. "You might want to hurry up and get dressed. You're gonna be late." He snidely remarks before shoving past her down the hallway.

Taylor speeds up to follow him to the front door. He swings it open as he makes a quick exit for his car. She peeks her head through the doorway and shouts. "Hey, are you going to practice?"

He ignores her as he gets into his car, the engine roaring as he turns the keys in the ignition. She rolls her eyes and glances down, noticing the newspaper on the porch. She leans over to grab it before slipping back inside.

She slides the rolled up newspaper out of its plastic sleeve and pulls it open. Her eyes widen at the first page.

A large picture of Daniel Levesque is centered on the page. The article briefly depicts the night of the accident, describing him as a victim of a brutal manslaughter. Below it are details of his funeral service... which is being held today.