Changeling: The Daughter of Fire (GxBxNB)

Changeling 3

Liam's house was in another part of town and I made sure to hurry there so I wouldn't be outside past curfew. With any luck, I could hitch a ride back home from him or his mom...

I arrived at Liam's house, a single-story bungalow where he and his single mother lived after she and her husband had divorced well over a decade ago. Liam's house and its lawn had that almost sickening artificial perfection; white picket fence, perfectly maintained front garden, the St. Mary statue, the 'Christ is the head of this house' doormat. 

The insides of the house were like that too, impeccable, no clutter except for plenty of family pictures and religious paraphernalia, just so everyone would know how perfect the family was...

Their car was in the driveway so definitely she was there at least. I cringed at the thought of speaking to her. She'd always disliked me and, even though she'd never quite voiced out why, I had the definitely feeling it was because I wasn't white, nor Christian. Having your son's best friend being the mentally ill Arab girl had to be a stain on her image.

I rang the bell and waited. After eleven seconds, she opened it. That was bad, uneven numbers always brought bad luck... 

She glared at me from her height. She was this tall woman given this faux perfection through surgery, not that she'd ever admit to it. The stink of wine itched at my nose and the way she carried herself told me she was drunk.

"Good evening," I said, doing my best to be polite. "Is Liam here, we were supposed to meet at the community—"

"He doesn't want to see you," she said, cutting me off, her face twisted into a grimace, before closing the door right in my face.

I muttered a little swear under my breath. I didn't believe her for a second. I could see from the window she was watching me. So I walked away, going all the way to the street corner, turned it and waited ninety seconds.

I then snuck back toward the house, slipped into the backyard and went to the window to Liam's room. The window was closed but I could hear music coming out. I took a peek in and saw him. He was curled up on his bed, facing toward the wall.

I knocked on the window lightly to draw his attention. He stirred up and looked at me. His eyes were puffy, but more importantly, his nose was bent and there were flakes of dried blood beneath it that hadn't been washed away.

He opened the window and I climbed in.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered.

"Checking up on you, dummy." I grit my teeth, it was hard not to be louder. "Did she hit you?"

"I told her I-I wanted to..." The words didn't escape his mouth but I had a feeling they were 'ask you out.' He was dressed nicer than usual, no cargo, no band tee, fitted jeans and a button-up shirt.

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"She got angry... Said she wouldn't let me... I told her I didn't care what she thought..."

"That fucking bitch." I snarled.

"She's drunk—"

"That doesn't excuse anything, my dad drinks sometimes and you know what he does? Tell terrible jokes and plays Mario Kart."

He started crying again, he clung to me and I held him up. "She's my mom and I hate her so much..." He let out a sob every few words, thankfully the music coming through his radio alarm covered the noise. "She took away my phone so I couldn't call you. I'm sorry—"

"None of this is your fault, I know you'd never flake out on me." I gave him the best smile I could. I nudged him onto the bed and we sat down.

"I wish she was dead... Then I could live with my dad... But then I wouldn't have you..." he cried. "I don't know what I want..."

The words repeated itself in my mind. I wish she was dead. 

Aflare of anxiety sparked up in my chest, tightening it... Or was it something else. I shuffled on my feet, balled up my fists. There it was; that familiar impulse, craving destruction, craving fire and the sweet release it brought.

But this time, it was stronger, more intense than ever. I tried to brush it off, but it only got stronger, consuming my every thought. Liam was still there, holding onto me, but I could barely feel him anymore. My skin burned, my chest was tight like a boa was constricting it, I couldn't breathe, my lungs just wouldn't. It was like I was on fire. My head was pounding too.

"Nadia?"

"I need to go to the bathroom..." I whispered, out of breath.

I couldn't think anymore, I got up and stumbled out of the room. Liam's mom saw me and tried to follow me but I locked the door behind me. She pounded on it.

"What are you doing in here you little—" I tuned her out, ignoring the insult and racial slurs she yelled over the door. Threatening to call the cops and have me arrested for breaking in...

I turned the sink's on, letting cold water pour down. I put my hands in and when it touched my skin, steam formed.

My head was throbbing, a repeated hammering against my thoughts. Liam's words kept echoing in my mind, louder and louder with every repetition, banging against my skull like they needed out.

I wish she was dead...

I wish she was dead!

I WISH SHE WAS DEAD!

I WISH—

Words escaped my lips, I didn't even think or will them to; "Granted."

I took a sharp inhalation, it was like something had been lifted off. And then I noticed the house was on fire and Ms. Bannerman was screaming.